Tuesday, October 18, 2011

I don't know poetry... but it's never stopped me before

Whenever I attempt to write a poem, I feel the heat of fifty thousand-watt lamps on me, and dozens of voices in the darkness beyond scream "fraud!". (Part of this comes from a particularly damning rejection that included the words "...okay, here's where I started skimming... it's pretty much awful from here on...)

I think poetry is incredibly difficult to write - and good poetry, that makes you want to read more of it, and even more, seek it out - is the rarest of all. Several of my friends out here in the writer-verse do a spectacular job of it, and I honestly enjoy their stuff. 

All that is to say, sometimes I will get an idea that just doesn't want to be a regular piece of prose. Its got a rhythm, or something that insists itself upon me. I feel like I got close to something "decent" once before with "Analysis"

This week it happened again with Lily Childs' weekly prompt. Not sure of the results, but again, it felt like it had to be something other than straight paragraphs.

Here's a tease, click the link for all of it, and to try your own take on this week's three words.

Newspaper Hat
On Wednesday night I made a friend
For real this time, not just pretend.

(She liked my newspaper hat.)

We ascended to my moonlit home.
A warm tiny place for me alone.

(And my newspaper hat.)


How about you? If you write poetry and prose, how do you know where the idea belongs?


  1. I loved it. It was quiet and creepy and quirky and fun. All the good stuff.

  2. I don't know much about poetry, and I've published a fair old bit. If it feels good, do it. And Newspaper Hat feels good.

  3. Thanks Laurita - glad you enjoyed it. I'll be swinging by to drop you a word on your "Raven" evening. (That's twice this month you've channelled EAP!)

    Deborah - thanks for the word of encouragement - nice to see you here!

  4. Chris, I love it! It's... well, is it okay to say adorable? Adorably quirky!

    I also write poetry, and I also feel like a fraud every time. Weird, isn't it? I'll write prose all day long and feel confident (er, mostly).