From Writer's Digest PAD Challenge:
For today’s prompt, write a remix poem. That is, take one (or more) of your poems from earlier this month and remix it. Make a free verse poem into a villanelle. Or condense a sestina into a haiku or senryu. Or forget form. Just completely jumble up the words…or respond to the original poem(s). As always, have fun with it.
Remember: These prompts are just springboards; you have the freedom to jump in any direction you want. In other words, it’s more important to write aa new poem than to stick to the prompt.
Reply Haiku to April 10
ReplyDeleteCongratulations!
No more nail biting for you!
Virus victory!
Wow. Nailed it. No pun intended.
ReplyDeleteRighhhhhtttt. You intended that pun. LOL.
DeleteI honestly didn’t. I didn’t notice it till I’d written it.
DeleteAnd here's my nature poem redone as a sonnet.
ReplyDeleteThe woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But bears are out there with their mamas,
And Kurosawa's foxes keep
Their watch for boys in striped pajamas,
Or little girls in riding hoods--
It seems they too can be misled.
Be careful with your worldly goods,
You're better off at home in bed.
But even that's no place to hide.
For sure someone will want your sex
Or withhold theirs. Perhaps its time
To hit the underground and ride
To where the Number Six connects
To Coney Island of the mind.
I like this better than the first one. And yeah, starting with Kurosawa and ending with Ferlinghetti makes for quite a poem.
DeleteConey Island if the mind! Lol. That’s good!
ReplyDeleteThat's actually taken from another poet, as is the first line, of course. I start with Frost and end with Lawrence Ferlinghetti, one of the original Beat Generation poets, still alive and kicking at 101.
ReplyDeleteAn updated version of yesterday's poem.
ReplyDeleteWe walk up Lofty Heights.
Your thighs hurt.
I am out of breath,
far too quickly,
attempting exercise.
Green leaf buds
turned our brown walk green.
Soon, full trees will
canopy the rutted
old dirt road.
Background birdsong plays,
the only sound
other than our breathing.
You speak up,
name them all. I can't.
We trudge up, up,
step over rocks, gullies.
Almost there,
know we can make it
to the top.
On the way back, downhill,
you tell me,
quite seriously
I would like hills
better if they were flat.
Both are goo, though there is more of the experience in he second one...I think the first one reads more smoothly.
DeleteThis is a reworking of my Quirk poem as a ballad
ReplyDeleteThe Ballad of the Kind Friend
We met at a fair on one fine day,
All a down a down a
And found that we had much to say,
All a down a derry o.
She was young and we were older
All a down etc.
As we chatted we grew bolder.
All a down etc.
Asked her to visit at day's end
All a down etc
She did and soon became a friend,
All a don etc.
Then the virus came along
All a down etc.
No more shopping went our song,
All a down etc.
Let me for you shop she said
All a down etc
Lest too soon you wind up dead
All a down etc.
We agreed and now our friend
All a down etc.
Brings us groceries without end
All a down etc
By chance we met to pass the day,
All a down etc.
Who knew things would turn out that way?
All a down etc.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Well done, sad words to a happy beat. You should put it to music.
Delete