Day eleven Here’s the prompts …
It’s Tuesday so Brewer’s AprPAD challenge prompt has a Twofer Tuesday double prompt offered. This time he’s going for forms – which is write a sonnet & write a antiform poem. Speaking of forms , I hope to have a Sonnet page up later today, in Poetic Forms.
NaPoWriMo’s featured participant for the day is Unassorted stories. And their) prompt for today si another form: the Bop. The invention of poet Afaa Michael Weaver, the Bop is a kind of combination sonnet + song.
Today, their featured poet is Sylvia Plath: which makes me feel a little giddy. When people compare my poetic voice to a past poet, it is often Plath that they invoke. It seems Plath’s most famous poem is “Ariel” … this is NOT where I derived my pen name. To be honest, I am not sure where the name came from; i just started signing it on poems and writing when I was eight. I didn’t read Plath until college, and by then it was clear to see how her work & mine resonated; I think it is the way we process pain. It is one of those things that get me excited – the conversations that develop between poets, even between contemporary & those long-gone. It wasn’t until 2011 when I wrote a Sylvia poem. Anywho … Sylvia was well-known that she suffered from depression; I tweeted some articles on mental health in her honor today.
As for my personal Poem A Day Challenge , today’s PAD is … butcher of water.
Please keep in mind the Haiku Poem-A-Day challenge & the Bambeco #30DaysForEarth challenges are still ongoing.
I have been doing alot of reading lately on “hushing”. Hushing is a process creatives use for quieting the mind, to allow an available space for an idea of inspiration.
I have been a bit discouraged; my reading points out that one cannot really stretch themselves artisitically without “hushing” the noise in the mind … and my mind gets really noisy! In fact, it’s been a source of pride for me that I do best when juggling multiple tasks/projects. Give me only one task or two – I struggle to get it done on time and the results may be lack luster. Give me four tasks and tight due-date and I will have them done a day before their deadline & polished as a gem … and one or two other projects besides. I have a skill of being able to process several thoughts-threads at a time & tracking them; this ability made trouble-shooting tech equipment easy. See? Noisy loud mind …
I don’t hush – not even when I’m sleeping. I am used to the synapes being in overdrive; even dreaming my mind is trouble-shooting the chaallenges I come up against. I’ve tried this past month to “hush” – I’ve been unable to. I’m now in a position where I am really trying to make a living in the arts (writing & painting) … you could say I’m really motinvated here.
But then I had an interesting epiphany today during on of my failed attempts. I was trying to hush while sitting for a bus at the transit station – and realized that deep in my reptilian poet brain, there is a poet of my poet-self that is always hushed. A part that just sits and notices, observes without thought. Things, colors, textures, voices: the sensory experience. It is this part of Ariel that notices the gray black of the rough tires in front of me, who picks up the worried look a child flashes when his mother curses under her breath – the same that was just a brief cross outside my periphery. This Ariel just records everything, without judgement; storing away the details for when it is needed later … and then processed,. I kept trying to do something consciously that is meant to be a sub-conscious process.
That said … I’m going to let that node of the brain go back to it’s sub-conscious OS.
In other news – I hope to have my poetry box planted back by the road tomorrow. I have had my neighbors asking when it would come out this spring, they expected it in it’s place on April 1 & I had disappointed them. The past winter was not kind to it (the plastic has gotten fragile) and I have spent the later part of Monday trying to mend it to last one more year. Some stage kids’s had given me tiger-striped duct tape as a gag gift one year (As stage manger, I kept threatening to duct-tape the kids if they didn’t listen to me. They knew I wouldn’t but it was my running joke.); the tape finally got put to use in sealing the edges. Both the Box and the post are base-coated. Tomorrow I finsh the “Poetry” signage. And I have a four inch stack of poem copies ready to slip inside. I’ll post a pix of my finished poetry box tomorrow with it in the garden.
I think that’s it for today. Keep poeming!
Let’s finish with Ariel’s “Sylvia” poem …
today, ariel rides sylvia
pulling her down to earth
brown hair colored auburn
death was never an option to go
to the fantasies of suicide
deceiving that pain can sidestep
even her death is just a sleeping
the others carry on
our voices continue, swell
building line upon layer
the insatiable desire
to live will brook no breath of death
sabotage the mind if necessary
london horses will take whatever life
they are doled out
pleasure or labor
whatever their training
they are content to just exist
ariel is over thirty
over the self-destruction
yet still lost in the landscape
of sylvia’s mind