Like I said in the prior entry, this is technically NOT the second poem that I have written this month, it is merely the second one in this series of poems written from Rachel McKibbens' prompts. I have placed the notes from the process after the poem in case anyone is interested.
The Sky Is Mine Beyond the Lie
My eyes held the promise of the love that did not own
I have the blue of days and the shine of midnights
This velvet bag carries commands and I give them
The world suffering without stars at my whim
Clouds become sparse, nonexistent
How harsh is the ultimatum?
Give me more than this bare minimum.
I held on because I wanted to believe
but in the end the mirror revealed it all
How could the very sky be owned?
What magic took this thing from the world
This secret wish whispered into the witches ear
heard and granted by slight of hand
I could look into your eyes if I wanted
but I know all I would see is deciet
you have failed me for the last time
you have handed out untruth but
I will no longer take it
I am only one stealing from the many
given to entitlement and smug lack of remorse.
~~~~~
From Rachel's blog:
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 2009
POETRY EXERCISE #5
Ingredients:
1. A beautiful thing that is not yours
2. The last straw
Part One: Write a poem where you end up with something(#1) that is not yours. Make sure you did not properly earn it.
Part Two: Write about the last straw. When you knew it was over, when you knew you had to just walk off the job, when you finally had to sell it, when you had to close its wide open eyes with your own hand, when you put down that dumb book and refused to read any more chapters, when you realized it wasn't alive anymore but you were still feeding it lettuce, when you hugged him and it felt as if all the butterflies had been pinned to the bottom of your stomach, when the heel broke off so you threw the good one away too, when her hair turned brittle and not worth brushing, when she limped into the corner and refused to eat, when you thought twice about replacing the final bulb.
Number the poem. Or don't. Whatever. Don't follow rules if you expect to write anything worthwhile. The cliff will always be there. It's up to you when to jump.
______________________________
(This exercise was inspired by Miranda July's short story, "The Shared Patio.")
~~~~~
My notes on the process...
This time I did things in order. I wrote the ingredients before reading the rest of the prompt.
Ingredients:
1. A beautiful thing that is not yours:
The sky
2. The last straw:
?? This one was hard for me... what is the last straw? about what? what was the straw that broke the camel's back?... for me? LYING... that sounds like a good one maybe.
Part One:
Write a poem where you end up with something(#1) that is not yours. Make sure you did not properly earn it.
My eyes held the promise of the love that did not own
I have the blue of days and the shine of midnights
This velvet bag carries commands and I give them
The world suffering without stars at my whim
Clouds become sparse, nonexistent
How could the very sky be owned?
What magic took this thing from the world
This secret wish whispered into the witches ear
heard and granted by slight of hand
I am only one stealing from the many
given to entitlement and smug lack of remorse.
Part Two: Write about the last straw. (for me this was lying - see above)
How harsh is the ultimatum?
Give me more than this bare minimum.
I held on because I wanted to believe
but in the end the mirror revealed it all
I could look into your eyes if I wanted
but I know all I would see is deciet
you have failed me for the last time
you have handed out untruth but
I will no longer take it
Then the instructions stopped instructing and just let me be. I'm not good at that when doing a prompt. I need direction and then to choose not to follow it... so... I shuffled the parts together to make the end resulting poem. I chose to do the italics because of how the short story that inspired the prompt was formatted.
I'm not sure how I feel about the end result. I may rewrite this prompt later... maybe.
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