Here we go....I'm a bit behind already since time escaped me and I didn't realize it was already April. So here's the first prompt. There are actually two sites, each with a different prompt. Whether it seeds from indecision or overachievement, I'll attempt to write one for each. On uninspired days, I'll choose one.
Prompt from April PAD Challenge, Writer's Digest: Day 1
Write an origin poem. It can be the origin of a word, person, plant, idea, etc.
Upstream Passage
Cold tiles against bare feet, using
bathroom walls and banisters for balance,
she stretches and squats all day,
intent on inducing
labor. Some days she sits
on the sofa with her seasoned belly exposed
like a peeled mango showing
its ripe flesh. She practices in solitude,
squeezing an orange
for pulp, crafting
the perfect birth. You
peek through the window and see
one of Degas’ dancers warming up, reaching
for her toes in mid-stance. Beautifully awkward.
But most days she stands
by the door, a worn out trout
swimming upstream, waiting to be done with it.
NaPoWriMo Prompt, Day 1: Metaphor
Right now, at this very minute, list five things in front of you. In
front of you being a relative term: on your desk, on your arm, out your
window … . Choose the two most disparate things and yoke them together
into a fabulous metaphor. Now, use it in a poem.
sometimes fruit
not everything’s a metaphor. sometimes fruit
no matter how sweet
or fleshy is just
fruit. juices drip from hinge
of mouth tells me
you’re messy
and maybe next time
more napkins.
---
For the Writer's Digest Challenge, there's an e-book giveaway -- a feel good incentive, something to work towards that's all. For rules check out Robert Lee Brewer's blog, here.
Prompt from April PAD Challenge, Writer's Digest: Day 1
Write an origin poem. It can be the origin of a word, person, plant, idea, etc.
Upstream Passage
Cold tiles against bare feet, using
bathroom walls and banisters for balance,
she stretches and squats all day,
intent on inducing
labor. Some days she sits
on the sofa with her seasoned belly exposed
like a peeled mango showing
its ripe flesh. She practices in solitude,
squeezing an orange
for pulp, crafting
the perfect birth. You
peek through the window and see
one of Degas’ dancers warming up, reaching
for her toes in mid-stance. Beautifully awkward.
But most days she stands
by the door, a worn out trout
swimming upstream, waiting to be done with it.
NaPoWriMo Prompt, Day 1: Metaphor
Right now, at this very minute, list five things in front of you. In
front of you being a relative term: on your desk, on your arm, out your
window … . Choose the two most disparate things and yoke them together
into a fabulous metaphor. Now, use it in a poem.
sometimes fruit
not everything’s a metaphor. sometimes fruit
no matter how sweet
or fleshy is just
fruit. juices drip from hinge
of mouth tells me
you’re messy
and maybe next time
more napkins.
---
For the Writer's Digest Challenge, there's an e-book giveaway -- a feel good incentive, something to work towards that's all. For rules check out Robert Lee Brewer's blog, here.
