/tagged/3030+challenge/page/2

Nothing changed from day to day, not one thing. I woke up at seven, made toast and coffee, headed out to work, ate dinner out, had one or two drinks, went home, read in bed for an hour, turned off the lights, and slept. Saturdays and Sundays, instead of work, I was out killing time from morning on, making the rounds of movie theaters, Then I had dinner and a couple of drinks, read, and went to sleep, alone. So it went: I passed through the month the way people X out days on a calendar, one after the other. (Haruki Murakami. A Wild Sheep Chase. Penguin, 1991).

So, how was your month? Write a poem about how you spent April. Or about a different month you spent mechanically, just getting by, as Murakami describes in this excerpt.

Photo by Lis Ferla. Copyright commons, some rights reserved.

Nothing changed from day to day, not one thing. I woke up at seven, made toast and coffee, headed out to work, ate dinner out, had one or two drinks, went home, read in bed for an hour, turned off the lights, and slept. Saturdays and Sundays, instead of work, I was out killing time from morning on, making the rounds of movie theaters, Then I had dinner and a couple of drinks, read, and went to sleep, alone. So it went: I passed through the month the way people X out days on a calendar, one after the other. (Haruki Murakami. A Wild Sheep Chase. Penguin, 1991).

So, how was your month? Write a poem about how you spent April. Or about a different month you spent mechanically, just getting by, as Murakami describes in this excerpt.

Photo by Lis Ferla. Copyright commons, some rights reserved.

Denise Levertov is just one of the poets whose work you can hear on the Poetry Center Digital Archive, which launched today.
Listen to one or more of these great recordings from the 1950s and write a response.

Image: Cardigans and Coffee

Denise Levertov is just one of the poets whose work you can hear on the Poetry Center Digital Archive, which launched today.

Listen to one or more of these great recordings from the 1950s and write a response.


Image: Cardigans and Coffee

As a librarian who has worked with historic collections, dust has been a feature in my working life and finds its way into my poems quite regularly.
I’ve never seen anything quite as dramatic or sudden as this, though - building work in the basement of UCL’s Grant Museum threw up clouds of plaster dust at the beginning of the month.
Marcel Duchamp was also inspired by dust and its strange qualities. Man Ray’s photograph Dust Breeding shows part of Duchamp’s process in making his Large Glass - dust was allowed to lie on the glass for over a year, before Duchamp wiped it mostly clean, but fixed some to the cones that formed part of the work.
And ultimately, of course, dust is composed of little bits of us - of our dead skin cells, hair, other dry detritus - a little, though not exactly, like the tumble dryer lint in Gabriel Orozco’s Lintels.
For tomorrow’s prompt, either write a poem incorporating dust of some kind, or incorporating something random that features in your daily professional life.
Image: Mark Carnall

As a librarian who has worked with historic collections, dust has been a feature in my working life and finds its way into my poems quite regularly.

I’ve never seen anything quite as dramatic or sudden as this, though - building work in the basement of UCL’s Grant Museum threw up clouds of plaster dust at the beginning of the month.

Marcel Duchamp was also inspired by dust and its strange qualities. Man Ray’s photograph Dust Breeding shows part of Duchamp’s process in making his Large Glass - dust was allowed to lie on the glass for over a year, before Duchamp wiped it mostly clean, but fixed some to the cones that formed part of the work.

And ultimately, of course, dust is composed of little bits of us - of our dead skin cells, hair, other dry detritus - a little, though not exactly, like the tumble dryer lint in Gabriel Orozco’s Lintels.

For tomorrow’s prompt, either write a poem incorporating dust of some kind, or incorporating something random that features in your daily professional life.

Image: Mark Carnall

I was really interested in the story behind this year’s National Poetry Month poster by artist Stephen Doyle.
Tomorrow’s prompt is simple: write in response to the image, or to Doyle’s questions in his description of the work, or simply to Elizabeth Bishop’s oddly wonderful and wonderfully odd poem, ‘A Word With You’

I was really interested in the story behind this year’s National Poetry Month poster by artist Stephen Doyle.

Tomorrow’s prompt is simple: write in response to the image, or to Doyle’s questions in his description of the work, or simply to Elizabeth Bishop’s oddly wonderful and wonderfully odd poem, ‘A Word With You’

e. e. cummings' erotic drawings

Only three days into the 30/30 challenge, and already I’m behind! 

Eva Aldea sent us the link to this gallery of e. e. cummings’ erotic poetry and drawings to prompt us to write our own. 

Hopefully tomorrow …

It’s the start of this year’s 30/30 poetry challenges, and April Fool’s Day.

Write a poem based on one of the Museum of Hoaxes’ Top 100 April Fool’s Day Hoaxes of All Time, but written as if the hoax were really true. What would the (your) world be like if it really did contain flying penguins, UFOs in London or the washing of Lions at the Tower of London. Or even spaghetti growing on trees. 

Slightly late posting my prompt for the 30/30 challenge, so it’s a simple one - just a time and location:
"In the library at night …"

Image: A night at the library by svenwerk (Copyright Commons: some rights reserved)

Slightly late posting my prompt for the 30/30 challenge, so it’s a simple one - just a time and location:

"In the library at night …"

Image: A night at the library by svenwerk (Copyright Commons: some rights reserved)

At a recent poetry tutorial, the tutor told me that I was fortunate to have a specialist vocabulary from my day job (as a librarian / library academic) to inform my poetry, and this got me thinking about specialisms and how they can add something exotic to writing.

Today I received an email from the “Knitting Club” at work, and that reminded me of the hours I used to spend poring over patterns with my mother and grandmother as a child. I was particularly absorbed by my mother’s knitting machine (a more modern and versatile model than the one in the video) and have already referenced winding wool for my Grannie in the Tate’s online anthology.

Winchester School of Art holds the Richard Rutt Collection of books used in his ‘History of hand knitting’. Some of his nineteenth century books are available on the library website. Browse through them to get a feel for the language of knitting, or, if you’re a complete novice, watch this video from cyberseams on the basics.

Three choices of prompts:

* Write a poem about knitting, using the vocabulary of these and other sources

* Write about clothing yourself, whether through handicrafts or shopping

* Write a pattern poem using your own specialist language. A pattern poem is like a recipe poem, except that in the end you have a product. So I might write a pattern for making a book, or a library, or a website, and a plumber might write a pattern for a kitchen sink.

Or, of course, respond to any of the images and digital resources in your own way.

I sometimes use this video to show how paper is made traditionally. Towards the end, you can see that there are petals from a local plant embedded in the paper.

Today’s prompt is to think about what you might embed in your writing, either literally in the paper, or in a more metaphorical sense. What effect would this have on the message you are trying to convey - for example, would the scent of a particular plant rise up and complement your message, or would the embedded object break and interfere (e.g. if you embedded a bic biro and it broke, the ink might blot out your poem).

Alternatively, think about your writing practice and the substance on which you choose to write and write about that and the effect it has on your work.

(Source: youtube.com)

September has thirty days, so it’s time for another 30/30 poetry challenge. I’m happy to be responsible for the Friday posts again, and as agreed with other group members, I’ll be posting on Thursday evenings so everyone has (at least) the whole day on Friday to write something.
This week’s prompt follows on from Seni Seneviratne's prompt on 1 September, to write a response to Jane Hirshfield's poem 'The Poet' after making notes about our own favourite writing spot.
I moved office this week, and had to set my desk area up again. It’s a little bit different this time, but all of the same key elements are there: notebooks, postcards, posters, and lots and lots of pens. A scrawl of too many computer leads.
Taking this picture (which is one of several I took to share with my family, showing my move), reminded me of the excellent series The Guardian ran, ‘Writers’ Rooms’. Even the most minimalist people have a few things on their desk that could speak volumes about them.
Today’s prompt: pick between 2 and 5 objects on your desk that have a story to tell - the more obscure the better. If they could talk to each other, what would they say? Would they be surprised / outraged / ambivalent that the others were competing for space on your desk? Write …

September has thirty days, so it’s time for another 30/30 poetry challenge. I’m happy to be responsible for the Friday posts again, and as agreed with other group members, I’ll be posting on Thursday evenings so everyone has (at least) the whole day on Friday to write something.

This week’s prompt follows on from Seni Seneviratne's prompt on 1 September, to write a response to Jane Hirshfield's poem 'The Poet' after making notes about our own favourite writing spot.

I moved office this week, and had to set my desk area up again. It’s a little bit different this time, but all of the same key elements are there: notebooks, postcards, posters, and lots and lots of pens. A scrawl of too many computer leads.

Taking this picture (which is one of several I took to share with my family, showing my move), reminded me of the excellent series The Guardian ran, ‘Writers’ Rooms’. Even the most minimalist people have a few things on their desk that could speak volumes about them.

Today’s prompt: pick between 2 and 5 objects on your desk that have a story to tell - the more obscure the better. If they could talk to each other, what would they say? Would they be surprised / outraged / ambivalent that the others were competing for space on your desk? Write …


Nothing changed from day to day, not one thing. I woke up at seven, made toast and coffee, headed out to work, ate dinner out, had one or two drinks, went home, read in bed for an hour, turned off the lights, and slept. Saturdays and Sundays, instead of work, I was out killing time from morning on, making the rounds of movie theaters, Then I had dinner and a couple of drinks, read, and went to sleep, alone. So it went: I passed through the month the way people X out days on a calendar, one after the other. (Haruki Murakami. A Wild Sheep Chase. Penguin, 1991).

So, how was your month? Write a poem about how you spent April. Or about a different month you spent mechanically, just getting by, as Murakami describes in this excerpt.

Photo by Lis Ferla. Copyright commons, some rights reserved.

Nothing changed from day to day, not one thing. I woke up at seven, made toast and coffee, headed out to work, ate dinner out, had one or two drinks, went home, read in bed for an hour, turned off the lights, and slept. Saturdays and Sundays, instead of work, I was out killing time from morning on, making the rounds of movie theaters, Then I had dinner and a couple of drinks, read, and went to sleep, alone. So it went: I passed through the month the way people X out days on a calendar, one after the other. (Haruki Murakami. A Wild Sheep Chase. Penguin, 1991).

So, how was your month? Write a poem about how you spent April. Or about a different month you spent mechanically, just getting by, as Murakami describes in this excerpt.

Photo by Lis Ferla. Copyright commons, some rights reserved.

Denise Levertov is just one of the poets whose work you can hear on the Poetry Center Digital Archive, which launched today.
Listen to one or more of these great recordings from the 1950s and write a response.

Image: Cardigans and Coffee

Denise Levertov is just one of the poets whose work you can hear on the Poetry Center Digital Archive, which launched today.

Listen to one or more of these great recordings from the 1950s and write a response.


Image: Cardigans and Coffee

As a librarian who has worked with historic collections, dust has been a feature in my working life and finds its way into my poems quite regularly.
I’ve never seen anything quite as dramatic or sudden as this, though - building work in the basement of UCL’s Grant Museum threw up clouds of plaster dust at the beginning of the month.
Marcel Duchamp was also inspired by dust and its strange qualities. Man Ray’s photograph Dust Breeding shows part of Duchamp’s process in making his Large Glass - dust was allowed to lie on the glass for over a year, before Duchamp wiped it mostly clean, but fixed some to the cones that formed part of the work.
And ultimately, of course, dust is composed of little bits of us - of our dead skin cells, hair, other dry detritus - a little, though not exactly, like the tumble dryer lint in Gabriel Orozco’s Lintels.
For tomorrow’s prompt, either write a poem incorporating dust of some kind, or incorporating something random that features in your daily professional life.
Image: Mark Carnall

As a librarian who has worked with historic collections, dust has been a feature in my working life and finds its way into my poems quite regularly.

I’ve never seen anything quite as dramatic or sudden as this, though - building work in the basement of UCL’s Grant Museum threw up clouds of plaster dust at the beginning of the month.

Marcel Duchamp was also inspired by dust and its strange qualities. Man Ray’s photograph Dust Breeding shows part of Duchamp’s process in making his Large Glass - dust was allowed to lie on the glass for over a year, before Duchamp wiped it mostly clean, but fixed some to the cones that formed part of the work.

And ultimately, of course, dust is composed of little bits of us - of our dead skin cells, hair, other dry detritus - a little, though not exactly, like the tumble dryer lint in Gabriel Orozco’s Lintels.

For tomorrow’s prompt, either write a poem incorporating dust of some kind, or incorporating something random that features in your daily professional life.

Image: Mark Carnall

I was really interested in the story behind this year’s National Poetry Month poster by artist Stephen Doyle.
Tomorrow’s prompt is simple: write in response to the image, or to Doyle’s questions in his description of the work, or simply to Elizabeth Bishop’s oddly wonderful and wonderfully odd poem, ‘A Word With You’

I was really interested in the story behind this year’s National Poetry Month poster by artist Stephen Doyle.

Tomorrow’s prompt is simple: write in response to the image, or to Doyle’s questions in his description of the work, or simply to Elizabeth Bishop’s oddly wonderful and wonderfully odd poem, ‘A Word With You’

e. e. cummings' erotic drawings

Only three days into the 30/30 challenge, and already I’m behind! 

Eva Aldea sent us the link to this gallery of e. e. cummings’ erotic poetry and drawings to prompt us to write our own. 

Hopefully tomorrow …

It’s the start of this year’s 30/30 poetry challenges, and April Fool’s Day.

Write a poem based on one of the Museum of Hoaxes’ Top 100 April Fool’s Day Hoaxes of All Time, but written as if the hoax were really true. What would the (your) world be like if it really did contain flying penguins, UFOs in London or the washing of Lions at the Tower of London. Or even spaghetti growing on trees. 

Slightly late posting my prompt for the 30/30 challenge, so it’s a simple one - just a time and location:
"In the library at night …"

Image: A night at the library by svenwerk (Copyright Commons: some rights reserved)

Slightly late posting my prompt for the 30/30 challenge, so it’s a simple one - just a time and location:

"In the library at night …"

Image: A night at the library by svenwerk (Copyright Commons: some rights reserved)

At a recent poetry tutorial, the tutor told me that I was fortunate to have a specialist vocabulary from my day job (as a librarian / library academic) to inform my poetry, and this got me thinking about specialisms and how they can add something exotic to writing.

Today I received an email from the “Knitting Club” at work, and that reminded me of the hours I used to spend poring over patterns with my mother and grandmother as a child. I was particularly absorbed by my mother’s knitting machine (a more modern and versatile model than the one in the video) and have already referenced winding wool for my Grannie in the Tate’s online anthology.

Winchester School of Art holds the Richard Rutt Collection of books used in his ‘History of hand knitting’. Some of his nineteenth century books are available on the library website. Browse through them to get a feel for the language of knitting, or, if you’re a complete novice, watch this video from cyberseams on the basics.

Three choices of prompts:

* Write a poem about knitting, using the vocabulary of these and other sources

* Write about clothing yourself, whether through handicrafts or shopping

* Write a pattern poem using your own specialist language. A pattern poem is like a recipe poem, except that in the end you have a product. So I might write a pattern for making a book, or a library, or a website, and a plumber might write a pattern for a kitchen sink.

Or, of course, respond to any of the images and digital resources in your own way.

I sometimes use this video to show how paper is made traditionally. Towards the end, you can see that there are petals from a local plant embedded in the paper.

Today’s prompt is to think about what you might embed in your writing, either literally in the paper, or in a more metaphorical sense. What effect would this have on the message you are trying to convey - for example, would the scent of a particular plant rise up and complement your message, or would the embedded object break and interfere (e.g. if you embedded a bic biro and it broke, the ink might blot out your poem).

Alternatively, think about your writing practice and the substance on which you choose to write and write about that and the effect it has on your work.

(Source: youtube.com)

September has thirty days, so it’s time for another 30/30 poetry challenge. I’m happy to be responsible for the Friday posts again, and as agreed with other group members, I’ll be posting on Thursday evenings so everyone has (at least) the whole day on Friday to write something.
This week’s prompt follows on from Seni Seneviratne's prompt on 1 September, to write a response to Jane Hirshfield's poem 'The Poet' after making notes about our own favourite writing spot.
I moved office this week, and had to set my desk area up again. It’s a little bit different this time, but all of the same key elements are there: notebooks, postcards, posters, and lots and lots of pens. A scrawl of too many computer leads.
Taking this picture (which is one of several I took to share with my family, showing my move), reminded me of the excellent series The Guardian ran, ‘Writers’ Rooms’. Even the most minimalist people have a few things on their desk that could speak volumes about them.
Today’s prompt: pick between 2 and 5 objects on your desk that have a story to tell - the more obscure the better. If they could talk to each other, what would they say? Would they be surprised / outraged / ambivalent that the others were competing for space on your desk? Write …

September has thirty days, so it’s time for another 30/30 poetry challenge. I’m happy to be responsible for the Friday posts again, and as agreed with other group members, I’ll be posting on Thursday evenings so everyone has (at least) the whole day on Friday to write something.

This week’s prompt follows on from Seni Seneviratne's prompt on 1 September, to write a response to Jane Hirshfield's poem 'The Poet' after making notes about our own favourite writing spot.

I moved office this week, and had to set my desk area up again. It’s a little bit different this time, but all of the same key elements are there: notebooks, postcards, posters, and lots and lots of pens. A scrawl of too many computer leads.

Taking this picture (which is one of several I took to share with my family, showing my move), reminded me of the excellent series The Guardian ran, ‘Writers’ Rooms’. Even the most minimalist people have a few things on their desk that could speak volumes about them.

Today’s prompt: pick between 2 and 5 objects on your desk that have a story to tell - the more obscure the better. If they could talk to each other, what would they say? Would they be surprised / outraged / ambivalent that the others were competing for space on your desk? Write …

About:

Writing exercises and prompts based on special collections and their websites.

Originally conceived as a workshop for Essex Poetry Festival 2008.

More background info here.

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