Today, I'm pleased to introduce an amazing poet, Diane Lockward, who is our guest prompter today. We are also featuring one of Diane's poems as an example of the poetry prompt. You can read about Diane below the post. As a free-write prompt, you can focus on any of the steps in the exercise below and practice descriptive writing. I hope you enjoy today's creative writing prompts!
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This is an activity I adapted from one by the poet and educator, Georgia Heard.
Before you begin, fold a piece of paper so that you end up with six boxes or rooms—in half the long way, then in thirds. (Alternatively, you can use 6 index cards.) Give yourself a few minutes for each step. This should be fast writing. Try to do this one step at a time,
in order, without looking ahead to see what's next.
1. Think of something that you’ve seen outside—something that is amazing, beautiful, interesting, or that has just stayed in your mind. Close your eyes and try to see it clearly. Notice its details. In the first room, describe what you see as accurately as you can.
2. For room number two, keep the same thing in mind, but just focus on the quality of light. E.g., is the sun bright? is it a dull day? any shadows? any colors that are reflecting light?
3. In the third room, picture the same image again, but focus on sounds: any voices? rustling of leaves? sound of rain or thunder? If it’s silent, what kind of silence is it?
4.In room four, write down any questions you have about the image. Anything you want to know more about? or wonder about?
5. In room five, write down any feelings you have about this same image.
6. Before you put anything In room six, look over the other rooms and select one word, a phrase, a line, or a sentence that feels important. Then repeat that three times in room six.
7. Read over what you have in all six rooms. Then create a poem from the material. Feel free to rearrange the order of the rooms.
I wrote my poem, "April at the Arboretum," using this prompt.
Available online:
http://www.valpo.edu/vpr/lockwardapril.html
Or here it is:
April at the Arboretum
Hope is the thing with feathers.
—Emily Dickinson
In a glass-encased room I thought of you,
far away, in the city you’ve flown to.
All winter I’d prayed hard for a miracle.
Now rain and ice pelted the windows,
drenched the gardens I’d wanted
to stroll. Yellow daffodils tilted,
tulips and crocus collapsed, leaves
of magnolias hung heavy with slush.
Out of purple rhododendron the first
goldfinch appeared, from forsythia, another
and another, at least a dozen, swooping
and gliding from thistle seed feeder
to tree to bush. A flock of goldfinches—
tarnished, soft, and brilliant, flying fragments
of gold, as if the sun had shattered.
Leaves of gold floated past panes of glass,
each bird without cares except to feed and fly.
All around me I heard sleet rat-a-tat-tatting,
and still the birds continued their airshow.
They did not suffer from ice, but flew
in perfect formation, a miniature
roller coaster, gliding in freefall,
looping and soaring, cradled by air.
Then the rain stopped pounding, and
in that airless silence no flutter of wings, no
twitter of birdsong. I only saw those small
trapeze artists on wings, flying cordless,
without cables or net, oblivious to danger,
and I thought of you, miles away,
trembling in the cold, cold rain.
—from Temptation by Water (Wind Publications, 2010)
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About Diane Lockward:
Diane Lockward is the author of three poetry books, most recently, Temptation by Water. Her previous books are What Feeds Us, which received the 2006 Quentin R. Howard Poetry Prize, and Eve's Red Dress. Her poems have been included in such anthologies as Poetry Daily: 360 Poems from the World's Most Popular Poetry Website and Garrison Keillor's Good Poems for Hard Times, and have been published in such journals as Harvard Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, and Prairie Schooner. Her work has also been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, and The Writer's Almanac. She lives in northern New Jersey .
Diane's website: http://www.dianelockward.com/
Diane's Blog : http://www.dianelockward.blogspot.com/
This site offers creative writing prompts that I hope will inspire writers of all genres.
Showing posts with label Diane Lockward. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Diane Lockward. Show all posts
Friday, May 13, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Food-Inspired Creative Writing Prompts with Barbara Crooker
Hello and Happy Friday!
Today’s guest prompter is one of my favorite poets, Barbara Crooker. You can read about her at the end of the blog entry today. I highly recommend visiting her website and reading some of her poems.
Many thanks to Barbara for preparing our creative writing prompts today, and thank you to poets Diane Lockward and Ron Wallace for giving us permission to showcase their poems as excellent examples that we hope will inspire you.
Barbara Crooker says, “I like to use food prompts when I’m teaching workshops, because even if the writing exercise doesn’t go anywhere, you can always eat the prompt.”
Enjoy the two poems below and you will find Barbara’s prompts after the poems.
Bon Appetit!
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To a Potato
by Diane Lockward (from her new book Temptation by Water)
I love the smell of you just before bathing,
the earth that clings to your skin,
your skin scrubbed and peeled, salted and eaten raw,
prelude to the flesh inside,
pale flesh, multitudinous pleasures,
tender and hot, steam rising from the slit,
coarse, squashy, and fluffy, requiring a ritual
of preparation, the recklessness of butter.
Bit of a bother, actually, and rather dull on your own,
always in need of enhancement.
Sliced and diced, mingled with cheddar,
sautéed, and restuffed into your skin,
the Marilyn Monroe of potatoes.
As I clutch you, plump and firm, in my palm,
I recall your humble roots, your poisonous leaves,
you among potato pickers, a crude tuber,
feeding so many mouths, sidekick to fried hunks of fish.
You are a fat, dirty spud, a misshapen blob
of starch, carbohydrates, and useless calories,
disreputable nightshade, consort to blight and famine.
Some days I think you are merely a side dish.
Nights I suffer the pangs of starvation,
tantalized by dreams of french fries,
my mouth stuffed with crisp strips of gold.
You Can't Write a Poem About McDonald's
by Ronald Wallace
Noon. Hunger the only thing
singing in my belly.
I walk through the blossoming cherry trees
on the library mall,
past the young couples coupling,
by the crazy fanatic
screaming doom and salvation
at a sensation-hungry crowd,
to the Lake Street McDonald's.
It is crowded, the lines long and sluggish.
I wait in the greasy air.
All around me people are eating—
the sizzle of conversation,
the salty odor of sweat,
the warm flesh pressing out of
hip huggers and halter tops.
When I finally reach the cash register,
the counter girl is crisp as a pickle,
her fingers thin as french fries,
her face brown as a bun.
Suddenly I understand cannibalism.
As I reach for her,
she breaks into pieces
wrapped neat and packaged for take-out.
I'm thinking, how amazing it is
to live in this country, how easy
it is to be filled.
We leave together, her warm aroma
close at my side.
I walk back through the cherry trees
blossoming up into pies,
the young couples frying in
the hot, oily sun,
the crowd eating up the fanatic,
singing, my ear, eye, and tongue
fat with the wonder
of this hungry world.
Noon. Hunger the only thing
singing in my belly.
I walk through the blossoming cherry trees
on the library mall,
past the young couples coupling,
by the crazy fanatic
screaming doom and salvation
at a sensation-hungry crowd,
to the Lake Street McDonald's.
It is crowded, the lines long and sluggish.
I wait in the greasy air.
All around me people are eating—
the sizzle of conversation,
the salty odor of sweat,
the warm flesh pressing out of
hip huggers and halter tops.
When I finally reach the cash register,
the counter girl is crisp as a pickle,
her fingers thin as french fries,
her face brown as a bun.
Suddenly I understand cannibalism.
As I reach for her,
she breaks into pieces
wrapped neat and packaged for take-out.
I'm thinking, how amazing it is
to live in this country, how easy
it is to be filled.
We leave together, her warm aroma
close at my side.
I walk back through the cherry trees
blossoming up into pies,
the young couples frying in
the hot, oily sun,
the crowd eating up the fanatic,
singing, my ear, eye, and tongue
fat with the wonder
of this hungry world.
(Note: “You Can’t Write a Poem About McDonald’s” by Ronald Wallace appeared in Long for This World: New and Selected Poems.)
Poetry Writing Prompts:
Write a poem addressed to another fruit or vegetable.
Or do your own take on the potato.
Or write a poem in the voice of (written by) a fruit or a vegetable.
Or write an anti-poem, such as “You Can’t Write a Poem About McDonald’s” by Ron Wallace
Fiction Writing Prompts:
Try to work a potato into your plot line at a pivotal moment.
Or see how you can use the likes/dislikes of these spuds to reveal an aspect of one of your characters.
Non-Fiction Prompts (memoir, journal entry, creative non-fiction):
What sensory images do you associate with potatoes? What early childhood memories do you have about eating your first potato?
Barbara Crooker lives and writes in rural northeastern Pennsylvania, where she lives with her husband and son. Her books are Radiance, winner of the 2005 Word Press First Book Award and finalist for the 2006 Paterson Poetry Prize; Line Dance (Word Press, 2008), winner of the 2009 Paterson Award for Excellence in Literature; and More (C&R Press, 2010) http://www.amazon.com/More-Poems-Barbara-Crooker/dp/193619600X/ref=sr_1_6?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1270034803&sr=1-6 . Her poems appear in a variety of literary journals and many anthologies, including Good Poems for Hard Times (Garrison Keillor, editor)(Viking Penguin) and the Bedford Introduction to Literature. Visit her website: www.barbaracrooker.com
Labels:
Barbara Crooker,
Diane Lockward,
food creative writing prompts,
poetry writing prompts,
Ron Wallace
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