5 Poetry Prompts after Juan Felipe Herrera

Herrera photo from Associated Press

Mentor Poem

Academy of American Poets · Juan Felipe Herrera: "Social Distancing"

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​Source of poem and "About This Poem": poets.org Academy of American Poets

Poetry Writing Prompts

• Start with any line from Herrera’s poem – and write a new poem from there, or in response.
• Write a poem about all the ways you “distance.”
• Write a poem about all the ways you “socialize.”

Try writing in a different form.
And remember to stay specific or “local” versus grand and encompassing.

Another Mentor Poem

Five Directions to My House
JUAN FELIPE HERRERA                                                  

1. Go back to the grain yellow hills where the broken speak of elegance
2. Walk up to the canvas door, the short bed stretched against the clouds
3. Beneath the earth, an ant writes with the grace of a governor
4. Blow, blow Red Tail Hawk, your hidden sleeve—your desert secrets
5. You are there, almost, without a name, without a body, go now
6. I said five, said five like a guitar says six. 

Poetry Writing Prompts

• Write a poetic description that is literally directions to “X.”  Close your eyes and what you picture on the route becomes the poem.
• Write a poetic description that is a path to something abstract or intangible – directions to childhood, directions to sanity, directions to . . .
• Or don’t worry about directions, but write a poem with a numbered list or sequence or flow or succession or order or chronology or c o n c a t e n a t i o n .

 

For Discussion

Almost Livin' Almost Dyin' 
JUAN FELIPE HERRERA
 
for all the dead
                                                                                         & hear my streets
with ragged beats & the beats
are too beat to live so the graves push out with
hands that cannot touch the makers of light & the
sun flames down through the roofs & the roots that slide
to one side & the whistlin' fires of the cops & the cops
in the shops do what they gotta do & your body's
on the fence & your ID's in the air & the shots
get fired & the gas in the face & the tanks
on your blood & the innocence all around & the
spillin' & the grillin' & the grinnin' & the game of Race
no one wanted & the same every day so U fire &
eat the smoke thru your long bones & the short mace
& the day? This last sweet Swisher day that turns to love
& no one knows how it came or what it is or what it says
or what it was or what for or from what gate
is it open is it locked can U pull it back to your life
filled with bitter juice & demon angel eyes even though
you pray & pray mama says you gotta sing she says
you got wings but from what skies from where could
they rise what are the things the no-things called love
how can its power be fixed or grasped so the beats
keep on blowin' keep on flyin' & the moon tracks your bed
where you are alone or maybe dead & the truth
carves you carves you & calls you back still alive
cry cry the candles by the last four trees still soaked
in Michael Brown red and Officer Liu red and
Officer Ramos red and Eric Garner whose
last words were not words they were just breath
askin' for breath they were just burnin’ like me like
we are all still burnin' can you hear me
can you can you feel me swaggin' tall & driving low &
talkin' fine & hollerin' from my corner crime & fryin’
                                                                            against the wall
 
almost livin' almost dyin'
almost livin' almost dyin'
 
     SOURCE: poetryfoundation.org