Monday, April 13, 2015

NaPoWriMo 2015 - 13/30 - Grey Dwelling

Today's prompt is another one with a photo to go along with it. Yet again I wrote a poem that may not have really been along the prompt's guidelines but I suppose the point of a prompt is creation and if I asked Ms. McKibbens, she would probably say the poem writing is the point. Speaking of the poem writing, I would love to see what YOU come up with! Post in the comments or put a link to your blog entry! Happy writing!

~~~~~

Grey Dwelling

from a throat of doors
comes a call unknown
creaking floors,
clattering roof,
whistling windows

taken over
by spiders
and mice
small snakes
creepy things

a house found sleeping
in the density of existence
in the corner of place
in the space beside life
in the bed of now

wondering the words
to the common songs
happy birthday
auld lang syne

find waiting inside it
the stuffed rabbit
that wished it was velveteen
old habits
that died hard

a structure surviving
by eating
memories
lies
dreams
sorrow

it is named Mary or Shelley
or Bela Lugosi
the simplicity of appearances
the possibility of haunting

hiding its condemned hands
under its frame

~~~~~

From Rachel McKibben's  blog:
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2009   WRITING EXERCISE # 18



I took this photo [click on it to enlarge] while adventuring with the fam deep, deep in Ohio. I love the sag and bow. The aching windows. How the corners are like a child's tippy toes, trying to reach the ground from grandpa's big chair.

What would you do if you saw this house in the supermarket? What would its voice be made of? What small and furious thing(s) have taken over? Where does this house sleep? What songs does it not remember? What forgotten things are waiting inside? What does it eat? Who would you name this house after, and why? Where does it hide its condemned hands?

~~~~~

Personal note on the process...

I have to admit that whenever Rachel puts a bunch of questions in a prompt, I want to answer them all. The list of questions is a poem in itself, and each question nearly begs its own separate poem. What I posted above is almost not a poem really, but a list of things to build a poem with, but since I am feeling less than my poetic best lately, that is all that I could muster today. :-/  If I read the poem without the prompt in mind, it has a certain amount of merit I suppose.  If I rewrite this (a rare occurrence, but it could happen), I will post a link as an update to this entry.

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