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5 End of Year Writing Prompts

12/30/2020

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Overview

End of year writing or New Year's Eve prompts can be cliché and nudging in their attempt to capture something grand or summative.  I hope the following prompts are less so!

First Mentor Poem

Not This
OLENA KALYTIAK DAVIS
 
my god all the days we have lived thru
saying
 
not this
one, not this,
not now,
not yet, this week
doesn’t count, was lost, this month
was shit, what a year, it sucked,
it flew, that decade was for
what? i raised my kids, they
grew i lost two pasts–i am
not made of them and they
are through.
 
we forget what
we remember:
 
each of the five
the fevered few
 
days we used to
fall in love.

Writing Prompts

  • In a poem, complain about the year 2020, if you like.
  • Or, write a poem about the silver linings of a pandemic year.  What new skills did you develop? What did you discover?  Until now what did you ‘forget to remember?’ 
  • Or, tell me about what you made in 2020.

Second Mentor Poem

A Toast
ILYA KAMINSKY
 
To your voice, a mysterious virtue,
to the 53 bones of one foot, the four dimensions of breathing, 
 
to pine, redwood, sworn-fern, peppermint, 
to hyacinth and bluebell lily, 
 
to the train conductor’s donkey on a rope,
to smells of lemons, a boy pissing splendidly against the trees. 
 
Bless each thing on earth until it sickens, 
until each ungovernable heart admits: “I confused myself  
 
and yet I loved—and what I loved 
I forgot, what I forgot brought glory to my travels, 
 
to you I traveled as close as I dared, Lord.”

SOURCE: Poets.org 

Writing Prompts 

  • Write a toast (in poem form) to three major things and three minor things.
  • Write a toast to the year: to what confused—what I loved—what I dared—to the keeping and the going.  Try some of these phrases:
                   let it be known
                   thank you
                   here’s to ...
                   to the ...
                   cheers to ...
                    a toast to ...
                   bless ...

Remember: Local and personal is more interesting than all-encompassing or grand summations.

Finally . . .

When Giving Is All We Have
ALBERTO RÍOS
                                              One river gives
                                              Its journey to the next.
We give because someone gave to us.
We give because nobody gave to us.

We give because giving has changed us.
We give because giving could have changed us.

We have been better for it,
We have been wounded by it--

Giving has many faces: It is loud and quiet,
Big, though small, diamond in wood-nails.

Its story is old, the plot worn and the pages too,
But we read this book, anyway, over and again:

Giving is, first and every time, hand to hand,
Mine to yours, yours to mine.

You gave me blue and I gave you yellow.
Together we are simple green. You gave me

What you did not have, and I gave you
What I had to give—together, we made

Something greater from the difference.

​Source: Poets.org

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5 Holiday Poetry Prompts

12/24/2020

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It's Hygge Time

This Danish concept (pronounced hoo-gah) is adopted worldwide, I think especially in climates that presuppose the need for frequent warming and cozying! Louisa Thomsen Brits, the author of The Book of Hygge: The Danish Art of Contentment, Comfort, and Connection, calls it “a practical way of creating sanctuary in the middle of very real life.”  This New Yorker article claims winter as the most Hygge time of year: "Hygge can be found in a bakery and in the dry heat of a sauna in winter, surrounded by your naked neighbors. It’s wholesome and nourishing, like porridge; Danish doctors recommend tea and hygge as a cure for the common cold. It’s possible to hygge alone, wrapped in a flannel blanket with a cup of tea, but the true expression of hygge is joining with loved ones in a relaxed and intimate atmosphere. ​" 

​And THAT'S how today's first poetry writing prompts originated.  Check out the mentor poem before writing to the prompts.
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Illustration by Amsterdam artist, Sanny van Loon for an article in MARGRIET magazine (NL) about the Danish concept 'Hygge.' See more of van Loon's work at www.sannyvanloon.com
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Gif by Marc Rosenthal

First Mentor Poem 

Neighbours: The Night The Lights Went Out
ANGI HOLDEN

She took a small canvas bag
from the cupboard under the sink,
filled it with an assortment of nightlights –
vanilla, blueberry, winter spice –
added a couple of dumpy glass holders,
a box of matches, a bar of chocolate.
The house on the corner was in darkness,
the knock on the door answered
with a tentative ‘Who’s there?’
Years later, they laughed about the tea,
the water boiled in a pan on the gas ring;
the shortbread eaten straight from a tin
intended as a Christmas gift;
the chocolate eaten square by square;
the shimmering candle flames
shining light into the darkest corners.
​
SOURCE: Poets' Corner

Poetry Writing Prompts 1 and 2

  • How do you hygge? Write a poem, outlining the steps.
  • Or, write a poem that vividly captures  a specific hygge moment.

Second Mentor Poem


The Death of Santa Claus

CHARLES HARPER WEBB

He's had the chest pains for weeks,
but doctors don't make house
calls to the North Pole,
 
he's let his Blue Cross lapse,
blood tests make him faint,
hospital gown always flap
 
open, waiting rooms upset
his stomach, and it's only
indigestion anyway, he thinks,

until, feeding the reindeer,
he feels as if a monster fist
has grabbed his heart and won't

stop squeezing. He can't
breathe, and the beautiful white
world he loves goes black,

and he drops on his jelly belly
in the snow and Mrs. Claus
tears out of the toy factory
 
wailing, and the elves wring
their little hands, and Rudolph's
nose blinks like a sad ambulance
 
light, and in a tract house
in Houston, Texas, I'm 8,
telling my mom that stupid
 
kids at school say Santa's a big
fake, and she sits with me
on our purple-flowered couch,
 
and takes my hand, tears
in her throat, the terrible
news rising in her eyes.​

SOURCE:
Library of Congress

Poetry Writing Prompts 3, 4, and 5

  • Vividly relay the moment when you learned the truth about Santa Claus. (Remember, you can fictionalize.)
Two point of view prompts I particularly like (ala Read Poetry):
  • Write a poem from the p.o.v. of the Salvation Army bellringer
  • Write a poem from the p.o.v. of someone on duty Christmas eve or day
​​

Finally . . .

How many Hygge points?
Hygge: Scandinavian Culture
Albert King
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Free Association Poetry Prompts

12/17/2020

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An artist working under the name "segawa thirty-seven" puts a modern spin on iconic Japanese woodblock prints. Here the wind sweeps away papers in "Ijiri in Sugura Province" by Katsushika Hokusai (1830-5)
Read more about the gif artwork at Gif Magazine.

This week, we switched up the format!  It keeps writing practice fresh and the mind nimble. Instead of starting with mentor poems, we practiced writing with free association prompts, then looked at poems that could have been written after such a prompt.

First Writing Prompt

This writing exercise was first posed by poet Kenyatta Rogers in a virtual summer institute through the Poetry Foundation in Chicago this year. I liked the idea so much, wanted to try it here in PoetryBones.  

In this challenge, Rogers suggests taking a page of text (newspaper, textbook, magazine) and drawing a large "X" from top left corner down to the bottom right corner, and from top right down to bottom left corner.

Write down any of the words that the pencil lines cross through.  Write a poem, using all of those words.  Or write a poem using only 10 of the words.

​A variation I added was to use several words from one quadrant to be in conversation  with words from its opposing quadrant -- and see what happens.  With this same thought, use the words that rest just ON one of the lines (not underneath it) in dialogue with the words on the other line.  Try all sorts of free associations with the "Make an X" poem!
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Second Writing Prompt

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This one comes courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago's TAP program.  ​
Step One: At The Collections page of the Art Institute of Chicago, type JAR, BOWL, or BASKET in the search bar.  From the image bank, choose your own “gratitude jar.”  A gratitude jar is a mindfulness practice that has you writing something you're thankful for, or a positive experience from the day on a slip of paper and dropping it in the jar, and at some point you might read from the jar.  FOR NOW, the goal is to choose a vessel to hold such slips of paper!

Step Two: Write a poem about the jar.  Or write a poem about three positive experiences you had today.  Or somehow include both in your poem!  Write for 10 min. Ready?  Begin.

Mentor Poems

A Wicker Basket
ROBERT CREELEY

Comes the time when it’s later
and onto your table the headwaiter   
puts the bill, and very soon after
rings out the sound of lively laughter--

Picking up change, hands like a walrus,   
and a face like a barndoor’s,
and a head without any apparent size,   
nothing but two eyes--

So that’s you, man,
or me. I make it as I can,   
I pick up, I go
faster than they know--

Out the door, the street like a night,   
any night, and no one in sight,   
but then, well, there she is,
old friend Liz--

And she opens the door of her cadillac,   
I step in back,
and we’re gone.
She turns me on--

There are very huge stars, man, in the sky,
and from somewhere very far off someone hands me a slice of apple pie,
with a gob of white, white ice cream on top of it,   
and I eat it--

Slowly. And while certainly
they are laughing at me, and all around me is racket   
of these cats not making it, I make it

in my wicker basket.
​
The Jar
A.F. MORITZ
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7 Storytelling Poetry Prompts

12/10/2020

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See Storyteller #1, here.
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Rotoscope Project by Caroline Kjellberg. Kjellberg website

First Mentor Poem

Pearlie Tells What Happened at School
DIANE GILLIAM FISHER
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Source: wanderingwithwastedwords.tumblr

Poetry Prompt #1

  1. Write a poem about a story you’ve told before.  Maybe this time try it from the other person’s voice/point of view.
  2. Tell me about rocks, about “petrified,” about what happened at school.
  3. If a person dies doing a job they always did, what do they become? Write a poem about turning into the thing you do.

Second Mentor Poem

Bait
JACOB SAENZ
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Poetry Prompt #2

  1. Write a poem about an errand you didn't want to do.
  2. Tell me about "fishing" for something.
  3. Tell me about "baiting."
  4. Write a poem with an extended metaphor.
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Howl, Starfish, Early Night

12/3/2020

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First Mentor Poem

Howl
EILEEN MYLES                        

​a refrigerator
makes a lot
of sound
so does a bird
people are
always talking
full of love
& pain
we started
a fund
and the dogs 
are needing
some money &
I don’t know
how to do
it & I’ll
learn from
one of them
Tom’s blue
shirt & glasses
are perfect.
My teeshirt
is good
my pen
works
I breathe.

Copyright © 2020 by Eileen Myles. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 3, 2020, by the Academy of American Poets.

Poem Writing Prompt #1:

In talking about her poem, Myles said “Everything howls, everything’s a teacher,” so that inspired today's challenge!  Free write about what is howling around you, inside and out.  Then, pare it down to an “essential poem.” 

Second Mentor Poem

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This lovely, quiet, nuanced reading of Lerman's poem is a real treat.  I recommend using earbuds to pick up the soft voice of the young reader.  Click the image or the link above.  PoetryBones has also worked with this poem last year! Check out the session materials here, including a meditative video on real starfish in the channel and Lerman's own reading of the poem in the middle of an interview.
​
Starfish
ELEANOR LERMAN                        

This is what life does. It lets you walk up to 
the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a 
stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have 
your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman 
down beside you at the counter who says, Last night, 
the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,
is this a message, finally, or just another day?

Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the
pond, where whole generations of biological 
processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds
speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,
they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old 
enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?
There is movement beneath the water, but it 
may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.

And then life suggests that you remember the 
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.

Later, you wake up beside your old love, the one
who never had any conditions, the one who waited
you out. This is life’s way of letting you know that
you are lucky. (It won’t give you smart or brave,
so you’ll have to settle for lucky.) Because you 
were born at a good time. Because you were able 
to listen when people spoke to you. Because you
stopped when you should have and started again.

So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And 
then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland, 
while outside, the starfish drift through the channel, 
with smiles on their starry faces as they head
out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.
 
From Our Post Soviet History Unfolds by Eleanor Lerman, published by Sarabande Books. Copyright © 2005 by Eleanor Lerman. 
Source: https://poets.org/poem/starfish

Poem Writing Prompt #2

 Choose one of the crowd-sourced prompt ideas and write for 10 minutes: 
Life lets you have a sandwich, and pie
What does life allow you to do. . . .
Settle for lucky
Because you are lucky. Not smart or brave
Are you old enough to appreciate it? Too     
     old?
You listened, stopped and started again
The far and boundless sea; smiles on their
​     starry faces
That love, unconditional who
     waited for you

pie for the dog
there might be nothing at all going
     on

Who waited for you w/o condition
There are starfish in the channel
Is this a message?
Born at a good time

Closing Discussion

Early Night
ALAN SOLDOFSKY

In early December
           singing under the hedge
of verbena beside the porch.

What lies the sun tells
          of a few leaves stripped of their color,
parenthesis of rust on the hinges of the car door.

High wisps of clouds
          lit up by something
that has fallen.

The edge of a storm front
          faintly coming, a change in the smell
of the air, a quiver in the wind.

The incipient darkness, smooth as licorice.
          The only light in the house
the one in the closet that’s been left on.

The house quiet except for
          the gnawing in the attic.
The sound of a sound

that can barely hold the weight
          of being heard, a remnant
that ripples down the hallway

into the room where
          you slept. Your books still
dozing on the shelves waiting for you

to open them, or whatever
          it is you will do
when you get back to what you left.

Source: Rattle (Rattle #31, Summer 2009)

​
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    Christine curates the POETRY BONES blog and hosts the weekly live writing practice. Contact her with inquiries.

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