Over half way through and still going!  Here’s today’s prompt:

Today, I challenge you to find, either on your shelves or online, a specialized dictionary. This could be, for example, a dictionary of nautical terms, or woodworking terms, or geology terms. Anything, really, so long as it’s not a standard dictionary! Now write a poem that incorporates at least ten words from your specialized source.

The source for the terms for my poem was Everyman’s Dictionary of Music by Eric Blom.  There’s so much music in Italian this volume was difficult to resist!

Canzonetta

Meet me, Allegro, at the double bar
where piano music tinkles vivace
to the crotchet clink of glasses.
And we will walk to the river
accompanied by plainsong of birds
deep faux bourdon of frogs
glissando of ducks on water.
Willows murmur pianissimo
in the light evening breeze:
our swan song before I leave.
Meet me, Allegro, at the double bar
for our final canzonetta.

And now for our prompt. Because today marks the halfway point in our 30-day sprint, today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates the idea of doubles. You could incorporate doubling into the form, for example, by writing a poem in couplets. Or you could make doubles the theme of the poem, by writing, for example, about mirrors or twins, or simply things that come in pairs. Or you could double your doublings by incorporating things-that-come-in-twos into both your subject and form.

In response to this prompt, my thinking initially led me down the doublethink route of Orwell, but then I went on to consider ‘Very British problems’ and our tendency to say the opposite of what we mean.  After the rigours of yesterday’s san san, today’s poem is just a bit of fun.

dinner party

Great to see you! Yes, I’m good.
Lovely dinner, favourite food.
Brussels sprouts are always nice
and such delicious pudding rice!
I love dogs, honest, he doesn’t smell.
And how are you? You’re looking well.

Actually, you’re tired and pale,
that slobbering dog should be in jail.
Brussels sprouts don’t make me sing
and pudding rice is not my thing,
You haven’t picked my favourite food
and I’m not feeling very good.

And now for today’s prompt! The number 13 is often considered unlucky, so today I’d like to challenge you to beat the bad luck away with a poem inspired by fortune cookies. You could write a poem made up entirely of statements that predict the future (“You will meet a handsome stranger”), aphoristic statements (“The secret to getting ahead is getting started)” or just silly questions (“How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?”) Or you could use a phrase you’ve actually received in a real fortune cookie as a title or first line. However you proceed, I hope you will feel fortunate in the results.

The only time I’ve had a fortune cookie was at a Chinese-themed day we organised for the pupils at my school a few months before I retired. The message said ‘you are almost there’ and was just right for me! I could feel myself eager to reach the finishing post and see what lay beyond. But then I thought of a photo I’d once taken on Norwegian Airlines which is all about enjoying that moment between two states.

Transit

Enjoy your time here
you are almost there
suspended over clouds
you follow the sun
to your destination
and the places beyond
you do not yet know.
Enjoy your time here
you are almost there.

Here’s the prompt:

Have you ever flipped to the index of a book and found it super interesting? Well, I have (yes, I live an exciting life!) For example, the other day I pulled from my shelf a copy of on old book that excerpts parts of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s journals. I took a look at the index, and found the following entry under “Man”:

fails to attain perfection, 46; can take advantage of any quality within him, 46; his plot of ground, 46; his use, 52, 56; not to be trusted with too much power, 55; should not be too conscientious, 58; occult relationship between animals and, 75; God in, 79, 86; not looked upon as an animal, 80; gains courage by going much alone, 81; the finished, 89; and woman, distinctive marks of, 109; reliance in the moral constitution of, 124; the infinitude of the private, 151; and men, 217; should compare advantageously with a river, 258.

That’s a poem, right there!
Today, I challenge you to write your own index poem. You could start with found language from an actual index, or you could invent an index, somewhat in the style of this poem by Thomas Brendler. Happy writing!

I’ve taken some lines from the index of ‘Drawing on the Artist Within’ by Betty Edwards, which is about unleashing your inner creativity in drawing and painting.  Its index inspires any kind of creative work. I’ve mixed these lines up with items from the index of ‘The Five-Minute Writer’ by Margret Geraghty.

Creation

What are you waiting for?
Drawing on gleams from within
taking a long look at creativity
drawing on new points of view.

The power of ritual:
drawing on intuition
making telling marks
drawing meaning from the inside out.

The age of epiphany:
drawing up the rules of the game
there is more to seeing than meets the eyeball
drawing close to the magic moment.

Today’s prompt comes to us from Lillian Hallberg. She challenges us to write a “book spine” poem. This involves taking a look at your bookshelves, and writing down titles in order (or rearranging the titles) to create a poem. If you want to take things a step further, Lillian suggests gathering a list of titles from your shelves (every third or fifth book, perhaps, if you have a lot) and using the titles, as close to the originals as possible, to create a poem that is seeded throughout with your own lines, interjections, and thoughts. Happy writing!

Thought I was stuck again as I am away from home and my own books. However, I solved the problem by taking a few titles from my Kindle library.

Spinechiller

Secrets of the sea house –
sacred country, sea of ink.
Elizabeth is missing:
island wife out stealing horses.

The shock of the fall
arriving at your own door:
sunset song in another light,
burial rites then life after life.

I have added little to the book titles but I did shuffle the order round to get a kind of story!

And now, for our prompt (optional, as always). This one sounds simple, but it can be pretty difficult. Today, I challenge you to write a poem that includes a line that you’re afraid to write. This might be because it expresses something very personal that makes you uncomfortable – either because of its content (“I always hated grandma”), or because it seems too emotional or ugly or strange (“I love you so much I would eat a cockroach for you”). Or even because it sounds too boring or expected (“You know what? I like cooking noodles and going to bed at 7 p.m.”). But it should be something that you’re genuinely a little scared to say. Happy (or if not happy, brave) writing!

Here’s my response:  it’s all about the last word.

The Visitor

I did not ask you to come
but you moved in –
starved me, hurt me,
made me tired and thin.

I sought help to fight you,
won the battle at risk
to myself, stepped out
hairless into spring.

Now I live not knowing
if you still lurk
in shaded corners
waiting to kill.