Day Three Oh. Last chance to PAD in April …. Did you make it to the finishing line??
My personal Poem A Day Challenge , for today is … ruled paper.
Robert Lee Brewer’s AprPAD challenge prompt is The (Blank) – “For today’s prompt, take the phrase “The (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: “The Poets,” “The Good Guys,” “The Bad Guys,” “The Last Thing She Said,” and so on. You can see Brewer’s page for his example.
And NaPoWriMo’s final 2017 prompt is a challenge to write about something that happens again and again (kind of like NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo) – the setting of the sun, Aunt Georgia telling the same story, swallows returning to Capistrano, how you will lock your keys in the car whenever you go to the beach (their examples).
Poets&Writers has picked a fun one for today – Transcribe a poem onto a postcard & mail it to a friend.
The Poetry School‘s NaPoWriMo Group has an unusual prompt for the last day of the challenge – their quick prompt takes you through the steps of writing a cover letter – with the intention that you DO submit dome of this month’s poems for publications.
Don’t forget, Gina Weld Hulse was also hosting a Haiku-A-Day Challenge this month.
I have to admit – I really missed 30Day Poetry Challenge this time around. I’m sorry they needed to drop out. They always had a prompt that took me in acute tangents and paths I never would have taken otherwise.
Yesterday’s experiment failed. While I only had three peple approch me for a poem in an hour and a half – I was kicked to the curb by the Saturday Market staff.
I wasn’t being aggressive; I simply walked around slowly with two signs that said “Poems for $1/ Poetry by Ariel” – one on the bag of scrolls and the other posted on my laptop bag across my back. I let the poetry lovers come to me; it seemed a fair way to conduct the experiment. However – to actually post a price on something while within the Market itself seemed the breaking ppoint for the staff. If I had placed “For donation only” I would have been okay. But placing a price – even one as rediculously low as one dollar” placed me into a “vendor ” catagory for which they demand a $35 fee per week .
So – how smart is it to pay $35 dollars on what only netted me $3 dollars … or rather $2 dollars & a can of Coca Cola Classic? The goal here is to be able to pay my utilities as a poet/writer/artist, NOT to be a non-profit charity living in the cold dark.
Defeated, I walked over to my Saturday Networking group – because at theat time I needed to act and not wallow. When I got home, Keith did ask me what my next step will be, what weak will I try to make this feasible; i’m not sure yet. Placing “For Donation only” may not even cover the cost of the paper, string and label – let alone leave me ahead of expenses already paid. It wouldn’t even give me money to submit poems for publications – that would pay if accepted.
It’s ridiculous that – with poetry nowadays – it is expected that poets PAy to have people use their work rather than be paid for people to use it. Do we expect cooks to do that? Lumberjacks? Salespeople? No. No. No.
Kinda pissed here that my muse doesn’t go for a passion AKA drive for more profitable professions. No, It obsesses for those hard-to-find-paying-gigs types instead.
Still … Keith’s question has merit. how can I tweak his to make it a success? Or find a venue wheere it will be a success? Should I busk like the musicians there – reciting poems with a hat on the ground? I don’t want to beg for coin; my poetry is strong on it’s own merit. just as anyone’s labor from years of work would be. I will need to think on this.
I’m posting this here, because after yesterday, I need the reminder. This poem will soon be available in the Platchal’s On the Platform, Waiting: A Writer’s Group Anthology.
The world spins you at sixty-six thousand miles
it wraps you around the sun from the moment of your birth.
You are traveling, my friend;
even standing still
you are flying amongst the stars
looming towards Lyra,
venturing out past Vega;
you are constant movement, the second of the Galactic clock;
a gear everything might hang on.
There was a reason you were born,
there is a reason why you take water within,
feed on flesh and fruit,
why your lungs bring in oxygen
exhale a breath for the trees;
you are an essential part of the universe,
your mind directs the electrons, compose everything.
While you are standing there, archeologists are studying you
looking through future wormholes, like tapes on fast forward
– you are a will-o-wisp! –
like a moon pulling on the sea –
you are a celestial pendulum
moving too too fast, wrapping the sun all up
and hurling a spiral arm around.
You spin the world at sixty-six miles per hour –
a gear everything might hang on.