Pen & Page Prompt No.1
This week: Exploring how loss reaches out with its own language
#Pen & Page
Week 2 of the month brings you a Pen & Page prompt, a multilayered offering meant to inspire you and invite you to push into those quiet spaces that sit at the sidelines and don’t make themselves noticeable. Allow yourself time to discover what each layer is encouraging you to consider. Delve a little deeper into your skills with the craft suggestions. The results will be surprising.
No.1 “Things that Vanish”
Make a list of things you’ve lost or forgotten. Then choose a few, perhaps linked in some way either emotionally or by circumstance, and write about them by writing around them! You can use Elizabeth Bishop’s villanelle “One Art” for inspiration. Allow the conglomerate of items to contribute to the meaning as Bishop does. Notice the increasing importance and emotional color of each item the speaker names.
Optional
Let absence be the conveyed through form and style, too: white space, fragmentation, indirectness. Write a poem that leaves something unsaid on purpose.
#Stage Notes
Upcoming Zoom Reading with Sarah Carey, author of The Grief Committee Minutes
Sunday, June 22 live on Zoom at 7PM ET/ 4PM PT
Free with required registration
Hosted by Lana Ayers of Concrete Wolf Poetry Series
Sarah Carey's debut poetry collection, The Grief Committee Minutes (2024), is a lyrical exploration of loss, memory, and environmental and human connections. This thoughtfully curated volume takes readers through the landscapes of grief, offering insights into how we process pain, honor lost people and places, and find strength to move forward. The Grief Committee Minutes is available at Bookshop.org.
Glad you came here today. Glad you are creating. Drop a note in the comments if you’re writing anything strange or beautiful. And isn’t it all strange or beautiful? Until next Thursday…
Write and thrive,
Robbin
(i wanna try, too)
things that vanish
first, the small things:
scrambled eggs without toast,
foundation smooth onto skin
like belief in flawless beginnings
then:
my workout routine,
and the clean hour of sweat
when I still thought
discipline might save me
then:
my dislike for my feet,
the way he said they were ugly
because they were too big
then:
the second drink,
and the soft blur that used to mean
risk, not freedom
then:
caring about marriage,
the dress, the ceremony,
the idea of soulmates,
which once fit like a song lyric
then:
seeing him strong,
shoulders broad with answers,
now he asks if I can help him
remember to put on a band-aid
again,,
it’s like raising
a memory of a man,
when grief hinders my own
then:
my dog’s wild youth,
now her leg shakes
when the walk is too long
then:
being cancer free
i hate pink ribbons
and the j word,
i never tell people
then:
dad, mom, grams,
all three gone
in the exact wrong order
and still, i get up,
eat my eggs differently,
put no foundation on,
love, too, vanishes
and still, i love
Equation Called"Life"
Everyday we live
to take a bite.
We also live
to lose a night.
Every moment we spend,
we lose time.
And we take a breath
that we hold tight.
What is the dark
without light?
what is the black
without white?
There are always
things in mind
and there are things
out of sight.
We can say everyday
we are alive.
In fact we are dying
this is the life.