Upon the demon-ridden pilgrimmage of human life, what next, I wonder?
–
Iris Murdoch, The sea, the sea.
Write what happens next …
Upon the demon-ridden pilgrimmage of human life, what next, I wonder?
–
Iris Murdoch, The sea, the sea.
Write what happens next …
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 …
Sadly Scotland’s Makar (national poet) Edwin Morgan died yesterday, aged ninety.
So today’s prompt really has to be based on his work.
The picture was posted to flickr by the Scottish Poetry Library with the explanation:
The Edwin Morgan Archive is housed in our basement. During the official opening in April 2009, we exhibited some of the holdings in an exhbition called ‘Bawr Stretter! Messages from a poet’. This vinyl lettering of ‘The Loch Ness Monster’s Song’ was part of it. The bike, sporting tweed wheels, is by artist George Wylie.
‘The Loch Ness Monster’s Song’ must be one of the best known sound poems. You can hear Morgan read it on The Poetry Archive, and anyone who has ever visited the lochs must recognise these noises!
Have a go at writing your own sound poem!
More about the Edwin Morgan Archive at the Scottish Poetry Library.
I’ve been on holiday this week, so am running a little late with my Friday prompt. And, having encouraged you to “steal titles” a couple of Fridays ago, today I’m actually stealing a prompt (with due accreditation) from the BFI.
Today they tweeted:
Postcard correspondence between Deborah Kerr and a fan: http://twitpic.com/2ebdxl Who from the world of film would you write a postcard to?
And this seems such a brilliant writing prompt, I thought I would pass it on.
According to the text that accompanies the photo on twitpic.com
To complement our Deborah Kerr film season at BFI Southbank, we’re hosting a display featuring posters, designs and special items on loan from the actress’s family.
Catch the display at BFI Southbank 28 Aug – 31 Oct
Fabulous, huh?
This week the Library of Congress announced it has placed its collection of Gottlieb jazz images on flickr - “no copyright restrictions known”. There are 219 pictures from which to choose, but, of course, I wanted to share this great shot of Billie Holiday.
This week’s prompt, though, is an aural one: listen to her famous protest song Strange Fruit and respond … any way you can.
In honour of Library Day in the Life, which has been running all this week, I thought I’d post a prompt based on one of my major preoccupations this week - locating, reading and writing about Georgian Poetry, the series of anthologies published between 1912 and 1922 which defined an era we now tend to forget.
This week’s prompt is “stolen titles” - grab one of the following suggestions and write from it. Don’t look up the original poem; just go wherever it takes you. Afterwards, you may wish to change the title of your piece, or keep it - this is just a way to get started:
From Georgian Poetry 1911-1912
Days Too Short / William H. Davies
The Hare / Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
Devil’s Edge / Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
Child of Dawn / Harold Monro
In the Poppy Field / James Stephens
From Georgian Poetry 1913-1915
A Town Window / John Drinkwater
The Old Ships / James Elroy Flecker
The Gorse / Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
The Wife of Llew / Francis Ledwidge
Overheard on a Saltmarsh / Harold Monro
From Georgian Poetry 1916-1917
The Fifteen Acres / James Stephens
Music Comes / John Freeman
Stone Trees / John Freeman
From Georgian Poetry 1918-1919
Witchcraft : New Style / Lascelles Abercrombie
The Nightingale Near the House / Harold Monro
A Hollow Elm / Edward Shanks
A Man Dreams that he is the Creator / Fredegond Shove
From Georgian Poetry 1920-1922
Miss Thompson Goes Shopping / Martin Armstrong
Unknown Country / Harold Monro
On a Friend who died suddenly upon the Seashore / J.D.C. Pellow
To my Mother in Canada / Frank Prewett
The Quails / Francis Brett Young
“Pin back your ears”; pull off your lips - this poster by the futurist artist and poet Majakovsky pushes our image of the smile into a different place - ready to take off, in fact, with the corners of the mouth lifting like little wings.
This week’s prompt is based on the idea of being mouthless, silenced, like the narrator in Daljit Nagra’s poem, X, which you can watch him read on the Poetry Channel.
Be as surrealist, as imagist or as realist as you like, and write about what it would be like to lose your mouth, your voice, your power of speech.
No context, no notes, but I’ll post about this photo and the collection from which it comes on my main blog next week.
Just look at the man and the crowds below him and … write.
