I have no clue who owns these trees Bet it's the neighbor retirees They'll see me soon and throw a fit I better book before I freeze
My SUV is cool with it It's still thinking 'bout the deer we hit Avoiding Mr. Willard's pond (The sunlight blinded me a bit.)
They all wish I'd get a Honda At least Jake, Joleen and Rhonda It's not as loud as my old Hog, But who am I, Jane frackin' Fonda?
These woods still suck, unless there's fog But you can smell the stink of bog Soon we be sleeping like a log We be sleeping like a log, Braah!
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening [Robert Frost]
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
Prompt: Find a shortish poem that you like, and rewrite each line, replacing
each word (or as many words as you can) with words that mean the
opposite. For example, you might turn “Shall I compare thee to a
summer’s day?” to “I won’t contrast you with a winter’s night.”
Il a mis le café dans la tasse. "What are you doing?" I'm translating our breakfast into French! "I wish you wouldn't," he said, Sans me regarder. Oh, come on, we'll never learn. "What were you going to do today?" Maybe Les Invalides? Montmartre? He made a face, sans me parler. Then, "I have to go into the office — they want to get some work out of me." Salaud! Un vrai salaud. "They're paying for this trip." Of course, shall we meet later? "I'll be tied up with Jean-Claude. I might have to do some stuff at the hotel." Il s'est levé. "Stop it. You're acting like a kid." Il a mis son manteau de pluie. "Really, I didn't have to bring you."
Et il est parti. And I smiled the rest of the morning right through the chocolate croissants and Hermès store. He left his credit card, after all.
Prompt: Try writing poems that contain at least five words in other languages. You could perhaps write a poem that takes place in a foreign country or write a poem based on overheard conversation (inclusive of foreign words).
those are the three angels he said hosted by Abraham, painted by Rublev around fourteen hundred you see how their wings arch like storm clouds punched clean by each gilt halo, by each halcyon feather such a treasure! and yet some say this is not the original here in the Tretyakov but that a duplicitous docent (Larisa! how she loved the south of France) put up to it, who knows? by a handsome benefactor arranged to have it brought out at night, between shifts
a moonless night, gentlemen the streets wet, silvery wet the discriminating collector waiting in a black car smoking black Sobranies with gilt foils the slim ones, made for women but preferred by him; he tapped the window with a cane and the driver, after we — after we, ha! absurd! after they, I should say received the package, sped away
the streets were silver wet, the stubs of cigarettes on the ground only metres from the Kremlin, think of it, the gold foil the gold spires, under the paper the three angelic auric heads still shining after all these years of soot and smoke
and the sound of the Chaika the rumble of that perfect engine on the cobbles fading exquisitely into the night — but I rattle on, eh? to coffee! a short break before we return to the bank perhaps?
Pick a color. How many synonyms are there for your color (e.g., green, chartreuse, olive, veridian)? Is your color associated with a specific mood (e.g., red = passion, rage, blue = hope, truth). Look around the room, take a walk — note everything you see that is your chosen color. Then start writing, using the color as a guide.
they found a dead whale by the sea and dined on it for more than twenty days preferring not to slaughter the sardines
the water was shallow, clear, and teaming with fish but Erasmus said they appeared bloated feed them only boiled peas for a day or two whether they wish it or not it works as laxative, he said
otherwise the guts of the fish rot and stink peas will do it! remember when you snap and pull on the head, the entrails will follow then wash the fish in cold running water as soon as possible after shaking it from your nets
using your thumbnail or spoon remove the blood vein and rinse the fish one last time
otherwise your fish may go into shock from the sudden change have you always wanted to fly like a fish? leave the whale, take your sardines underwater and experience the oceans in a way you could never have imagined
I challenge you to think of a common proverb or phrase. Then plug the first three words of the phrase into a search engine. Skim through the first few pages of results, collecting words and phrases, then use them as the inspiration for a new poem.
adios renown nib eonian snowbird abed in rosin now now sin, debonair swoon, inn abider
obsidian renown indonesian brow aborn in wines, do own brained ions debonair in snow
seabird, win noon win bread, onions no inboard sinew no obsidian wren O! rawboned in sin
noon, rabid swine band noisier now band winier soon rainbow dines on bards, onion, wine
soon widen brain brain wooed inns own ideas inborn inward be onions inward be onions!
Edwin Arlington Robinson, three-time winner of the Pulitzer Prize, one of the great American poets few non-writers have ever heard of, wrote "Richard Cory"; he also wrote about awkward marginal folk who populated the Tilbury Town of his fabulous imagination.
beneath the snow we're sure there's grass and plump impatient buds must wait I'm thinking spring is gonna pass beneath the snow we're sure there's grass! we'll pray for sun, we'll hold a mass we'll sit in pews and pass the plate the snow has overcome the grass and our impatiens beds must wait
A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. There is a tight rhyme scheme — abaaabab. I varied the last couplet.
resting nor vigilant, and he can wait here
day, untired, head to the wind
A poem in keeping with Earth Day — it could be a reflection on what’s growing in your garden, a modern pastoral, or a Marianne-Moore-style poem about an animal. Anything to do with the natural world is fair game.
Don't order the Lo Mein. They give these things out at the beginning of the meal, right?
I'm pretty sure the guy on your right has antacid tablets.
Be brief. Don't use extra, superfluous words — especially if you're writing fortunes. There's only so much space, and
Is it regardless or irregardless?
Chen Lung Confections (NYSE: CLX). Don't miss out. This stock is ready to explode.
That restaurant Hung Far Low in Portland OR? That's not a joke.
The painting of the two turtles and the dragonfly with the inlaid mother of pearl on the wall over there, if we read the iconographic subtext, is a comment on bourgeois ennui in the Machine Age — or at least, after the fall of the Han Dynasty.
Today I challenge you to re-write Frank O’Hara’s Lines for the Fortune Cookies.