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Friday Freeforall: Bits and Pieces

12 Nov
Tapping a Pencil

Image by Rennett Stowe via Flickr

2:07pm, Friday (sing), 12 November, 2010 – Atlanta

Okay, wrapping up the week and tying up any loose bits. I realised, on receiving a comment from the author of a new blog I am following [that she had not seen me on the Poetic Asides Poem a Day], that despite what I have been telling you about setting time limits, I do not work well to a prompt for a daily piece of work. Nine minutes, yes. Twenty-four hours, forget it. So today, I have done the first three prompts. Now, I am only nine days behind.

However, I am very excited about a site I found when I visited this author’s site. Her name is Amy Barlow Liberatore; her site is Sharp Little Pencil; her poetry is fun and clever; and she has several links to places with prompts. I had most of them, but not One Word. It is great for kicking the brain into gear. They give one word and sixty seconds to write, then they cut the writer off. They do allow us to finish a sentence we might be in the middle of. Talk about a rush!

When I originally did the exercise I set this week, the painting I worked with is Vermeer’s Young Woman with a Pitcher. I have lost sight of the original poem my seven words came from, but here is the painting and the poem I wrote from it:

Young Woman with a Pitcher

After Vermeer’s Young Woman at the Window

Painted into the corner of the room
caught mid-thought, mid-ground
between wall and tapestried table she stands,
in the mid-light of early morning

caught, mid-thought mid-ground,
her arm bared, blue sleeve falling back
in the mid-light of early morning
absorbed, her eyelids lowered

her arm bared, blue sleeve falling back
a hand resting on the window frame,
absorbed, her eyelids lowered
looking at nothing, the light.

A hand resting on the window frame
the other on the handle of a pitcher;
looking at nothing, the light
streaming through the partial opening.

The other on the handle of a pitcher
forgotten she stands lost in thought.
Streaming through the partial opening
the light catches her, unaware as

forgotten she stands lost in thought
painted into the corner of the room
the light catches her, unaware as
between wall and tapestried table she stands.

published in Lunarosity 2004

I want to set you a piece of homework, if you will. Next week we will work on a more traditional form of found poetry. It will help if you arrive at Wordgathering with a base. During the weekend, when you read the newspaper [or computer], or read someone’s blog, or as you are reading a magazine, keep your eye out for a story that is a little quirky, a little off the wall, a touch bizarre. Should you not read anything odd you can find stories on the net easily enough. Ideally, you want something between 70 and 90 words. Remember to make note of the source. Do continue to collect words, images, and phrases for your word pool.

Have a good weekend and I will see you Monday.

 

 

 
6 Comments

Posted by on 12/11/2010 in poetry, writing

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

6 responses to “Friday Freeforall: Bits and Pieces

  1. ldsrr91

    16/11/2010 at 12:47 pm

    Hey, it’s Monday! I was reading your post and it stopped me dead in my tracks! The part that read: “read someone’s blog, or as you are reading a magazine, keep your eye out for a story that is a little quirky, a little off the wall, a touch bizarre.” Which really hit close to the house for me, because a GREAT MANY OF MY DAYS are like that.

    Here you go, something for you.

    I am having an affair of the heart
    And I know not how it began
    Where it received it’s birth
    Or how it will eventually end.

    I just know it send my spirit soaring
    High into the sky each and every day
    It makes me feel beautiful
    To know that I am sharing
    The love that is coming my way.

    I am having an affair of the heart
    Each time I look into your beautiful eyes
    As you run your fingers through the hair on my chest
    Through my loose unbuttoned shirt
    Sending electric feelings
    Up and down my spine.

    I have touched your warm and secret places
    I have laid close by your side through the night
    We have stared deep
    Deep into each other’s inner reaches
    Held onto each other
    Almost too tight.

    Through it all I have to stop and wonder
    Where it is you have been all my life
    Through it all I have to wonder
    Will I be able to keep you mine

    Tomorrow when the sun rise’s and gives new life to the day
    Will you be here … close to my side
    When all the words are spoken in their special way
    Will you want to share my life?

    Or will you board your airplane
    And silently fly away from me
    Will you break my heart but once again
    Will you leave me alone in misery.

    So today I will sit and think of you
    And how it was your breath came quickly
    With each salty kiss placed upon my lips
    Your body swaying before me
    In it’s silent silhouette

    The daylight hours will come and go
    Eventually to the long lonely night
    Silence
    Very little rest
    The memory of your whispered voice in my ear
    This sudden emptiness.

    All my lessons of life
    I have learned rather well
    This experience which consumed so many days of my days
    As I stumbled blindly along
    Love’s frustrating lane
    How easy it was that I fell
    Where to land is anyone’s guess.

    Because you see,
    I am having an affair of the heart
    And I have no idea as to how it began
    Where it received it’s birth
    Or it’s eventual end.

    How’s that for quirky?

    DS

     
  2. mroby

    16/11/2010 at 2:24 pm

    Hey! I read your blog. I know your days are quirky! Love the poem that came out of that. It’s a readable poem and by that I mean aloud. The speaker’s feelings come across loud and clear, but I am most drawn to the bracketing first and last stanzas. Funny, I just asked in today’s blog for people to share their poetry, so thank you for this.

    m

     
  3. ldsrr91

    17/11/2010 at 3:21 am

    Margo,

    Used to write more poetry than articles, then I sort of gravitated to the other thing, and the poetry languished on the vine. Now and then, I consider picking up where it was I left off, but it never seems to happen.

    Not enough hours in the day and not enough sand in the hourglass of time. Now I just do what feels comfortable and that is about it.

    DS

     
  4. mroby

    17/11/2010 at 7:54 am

    Understood. I have only been writing my blog for three weeks and find it takes up a tremendous amount of time. Selfishly, I’d like you to stick to the articles because I love reading them. I start every morning with your piece. Sets up my day. Regarding time…my 81 year old mother says it doesn’t get any better. She is busier than I. But she subscribes to the “do what feels comfortable” school and I follow in her footsteps.

    m

     
  5. ldsrr91

    17/11/2010 at 8:11 pm

    Such a heavy responsibility, every morning? I usually start out around 3:15 am CST and take it from there. Quiet time of the day, kind of special, and often, it inspires me.

    Tomorrow it will be the Bride who marries herself … Yeah, no joke. Unwed & Unloved is the title.

    It has to be true, I read it on the Internet.

    DS

     
  6. mroby

    17/11/2010 at 8:52 pm

    3:15, huh? I admit I love the quiet of early morning, I just don’t like early morning. I’m up eastern time about three hours after you. Still pretty quiet: coffee, your column, my blog, some poetry: heaven. Can’t wait for the bride. Another nine hours, but I got an end of day laugh from your comment.

    m

     

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