Only Mostly Dead Poets Society

[Bradley Darewood]

I feel like writing poetry, even bad poetry (especially bad poetry), is practical practice for making musical your prose, capturing lyrical rhythms to unleash later in your not-yet-finished narrative masterpieces. 

Plus it's just fun.

Anyone want to join me and periodically post their prose-poetry here? I know you want to @Jmack and @The Gem Cutter !

[The Gem Cutter]

I feel your summons call me,
I hear your challenge clear,
I feel my interest pull me,
To what I hold most dear.

And though my path behind me lays,
A track my feet wore through,
Before me stranger pathways lead,
To where the words ring true.

Forgotten now the lessons learned,
Abandoned all the drear,
A dance across the letters turns,
To where all things are clear.

And though my time is wasted here - no poet's skills have I -
And though I hear the snickers near, I'm better off to try,
To string the thoughts and sights I've seen (and even some I've not),
Into rhymes in awkward schemes ('cause doggerel's all I've got),

So I'll read yours if you'll read mine,
Perhaps we'll have some smiles,
And in between haphazard lines,
Forget the weary miles.

[The Gem Cutter]

The Green Man

I spy a man with dirt on his hands, an ear for the winds and an eye for the lands.

I spy a man who loves what is green, who walks in the woods and sees the unseen.

I spy a man who gathers the seeds, who knows how to plant them and what they need.

I spy a man with mud on his boots, who reads the green leaves, the stalks, and the shoots.

I spy a man who knows all the seasons, who sees when things prosper and knows all the reasons.

I spy a man much wiser than I, who plants where he can - and where he can’t, passes by.

[Bradley Darewood]

And though my time is wasted here - no poet's skills have I -
And though I hear the snickers near, I'm better off to try,
To string the thoughts and sights I've seen (and even some I've not),
Into rhymes in awkward schemes ('cause doggerel's all I've got),

So I'll read yours if you'll read mine,
Perhaps we'll have some smiles,
And in between haphazard lines,
Forget the weary miles.

I see you caught the cues I put in the primary post.  But your rhythmic reply certainly surpassed any alliteration I could ever conjure.  Oh shit, it seems I might be stuck speaking in this style. 

But seriously, that was brilliant!!! and oh, I think you've got some poet's skills buddy!

[Bradley Darewood]

Quiet
Demure
but just when everyone is watching
Everyone is always watching
Mother, father, husband, son
Her hand trembles when she slices carrots
Employer, cop, neighbor
Do they know her secret?
Cameras are everywhere
but most of all
inside her mind
She is bursting at the seams
with a silent rage she can’t contain
Quiet
Demure
There is murder in her heart, and it won’t go away

[The Gem Cutter]

Quiet
Demure
but just when everyone is watching
Everyone is always watching
Mother, father, husband, son
Her hand trembles when she slices carrots
Employer, cop, neighbor
Do they know her secret?
Cameras are everywhere
but most of all
inside her mind
She is bursting at the seams
with a silent rage she can’t contain
Quiet
Demure
There is murder in her heart, and it won’t go away

Darker and edgier than I can manage, almost a little threatening. I don't want to be in her kitchen.

[JMack]

@Bradley Darewood and @The Gem Cutter:

I’m all in. And as much as I love SFF (or should it be FSF), I love words and our community interactions more.

Scott: I’m in awe. As usual I will be reading your poems aloud to others and bragging that I know you.
Bradley: Loved the prose poem. Talk about capturing a character and a conflict in a few words!

So, now I have to join in. Tomorrow or tonight 

[ScarletBea]

I'm loving these too!

[The Gem Cutter]

This is fun, and I look forward to more postings. Bradley's poem is so distinct from my perspective, it lies in a blind spot where I can't look (bonus points for a Dune ref in a poetry discussion), and reminds me of coffee - bitter and off-putting at the initial taste in childhood. I've read it several / many times and it's got a level of chilling for me that the words themselves don't add up to. I rely on / exploit the flavor of the words, where he is leveraging dissonance in setting and other elements outside my reach. Well done @Bradley Darewood

[JMack]

I dip my figurative pen
Deep
Into the well
Of nothing to say

Or, words,
But only about myself
Negative space
On white

[The Gem Cutter]

I feel their eyes upon me,
Taste their judgment harsh and clear,
See the gap between myself,
And what’s expected here.

In cold objective measure,
I concede their views are sound,
By the laws that rule this place,
I’ve failed in ways profound.

Cut off from those around me,
Who will never know my paths,
And can never measure me,
By lessons from my past,

They only see my outline,
If they do see me at all,
They see only what I lack,
The scars but not the falls.

[Lady Ty]

Why didn’t you think of this sooner ? Go you, Bradley ? top idea.
Why not ask a mod to make it into its own part of FF Writers Section, like Writers’Corner ? Call it Poets’ Corner? Perhaps not as they are buried there. Live Poets’ Society?

[The Gem Cutter]

That was my attempt to be edgy and cool like Bradley    I feel more comfortable with positive motifs

[The Gem Cutter]

I dip my figurative pen
Deep
Into the well
Of nothing to say

Or, words,
But only about myself
Negative space
On white

I'm prone to be unclever given half a chance, and I've read this so many times, and the second stanza is throwing me. Help me understand what you're alluding to - the "Or" at the beginning is confusing me. This is not the poem's fault - I take things literally most of the time, and I know I'm missing the forest due to trees here. Is it "Or (I am dipping into) words, but only (words) about myself"? And the negative space - negative as in photographic or emotional? Or deliberate ambiguity? I know this paints me foolish to ask, but I am genuinely interested to know how to interpret this.

[ScarletBea]

Not sure if it's proper, but the way I interpret that is that Jmack is in a 'bad place' regarding writing. He thinks of words but they're not stories, they're only about his situation, trying to make sense of where he is now.

Or maybe this is just my projection of the little I know on him about these past couple of months...