One-Word Prompts

[Jesse Michener]

The challenge:

Pick three prompts and write from a) the perspective of your pre-parenting self, 2) the perspective of a lost loved one (and please feel free to use the term "lost" very broadly) and c) from a child's perspective.

what I love
what I hate
fire
the scent of rain
when you cry
i get angry when
rainfall
wind
ocean
heartbeat
fire
a horrible day
wonderful day
pride

[quaz]

I'll edit as I add/write the other two. (As I read- one different prompt for each perspective). What I hope to do is have all three with different prompts/perspectives, but have them all tied, so the three works become one work. We'll see how that works.



C) Child’s perspective- Heartbeat.

Thump, thump.
So new, no words yet, all thoughts rawest form-
Pure emotion.

Thump, thump.
Too much, noise is everywhere, all sounds echo loudly-
Chaotic noise!

Thump, thump.
It’s everywhere, bright shrill attack, loud colors begin form-
Blinding light.

Thump, thump.
Now hurt, middle aches badly, someone help understand me-
Primal screech.

Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.

Wait calm, her warm sound-touch, methodical ever present love-
Mama’s heartbeat.

[lavender]

The scent of rain

a.

The scent of rain when it comes to the desert is a kept promise. We all came stumbling wide-eyed and open-mouthed out of our apartments, dazed after a long day's work, to stretch under the gathering clouds. Some of us cheered in that darkening gray sky as we began to soak in those enormous, long awaited drops. We didn't know one another, or hardly did, but we shared our joy on that late summer afternoon, a flock of drifters and seekers on the edge of town buried under dust and despair, the man in the graying boxers, the sagging woman in the multicolored blouse, me in my invisible skin. The rain had come and things would continue to live.

b.

Coming home and stepping off the plane there is the scent of rain, familiar and trying to welcome me, but I want to run away from it. A year of sun and now back to this, this cloud cover pressing down, water coming from above, below, seeping and soaking me, punishing me for having been away for so long, and for being happy there.

I long for the sun again, to be next to her again and smell the warm citrusy oil scent of her hair as it shines golden in the desert, on the beach and in the lamplight of my room on those late, late nights. My depression smells like rain, damp, heavy, mildewy and I can't escape from it. It penetrates the walls, the floors, my clothes, the letter she sends. I hold the paper close to my face and breathe it in, hoping to smell the spicy pungent desert scent but it's all been washed away by the scent of rain.

c.

My mom likes the way the air smells just before it rains but I think it stinks and it hurts when I breathe it in, like strips of tissue paper are going into my nose and lungs. It's a dry crispy feeling that clashes with the moist air on my skinny brown arms.

When we were at PDQ we stood at the window waiting and I was gagging on that about-to-rain smell as I played with her purse straps. Mom was telling the lady behind the window how much she loved it and the lady said she thought it smelled like dead snails. I had never thought of that.

I closed my eyes and imagined squished snails littering the sidewalks in stripes. Yes, dried up squished snails would smell as bad as that rain smell.

I felt I had been proved right and I told my mom so. She laughed as we got into our little orange car and drove off to Grandmother's house, saying that now it was ruined for her. My heart swelled with the joy of her silliness.


I forget--what would we do if we wanted to request feedback?

[BelovedK]

I guess we could just give it here...

First of all, Quaz, I liked your poem. I took the stanzas and kinda made two different poems with them and it worked. ex/
Pure emotion,
chaotic noise,
blinding light,
primal screech,
mam's heartbeat.


I did the same with the second lines of the stanzas...I think doing that offers many ways to further the work, to develop the first draft.


Lavender, I think that was very creative. I liked the fact that you did three that were very different. You have great descriptive writing, i could almost smell the rain along with you (my favorite one is the first)

[BelovedK]

I just posted a poem on the 'waking nightmares' thread and would love honest feedback on it. :

[Mindyleigh]

A poem re: FIRE from three perspectives...and thank you for the prompt, because otherwise this wouldn't have happened. Cool. Although it's a tad melodramatic. Okay, maybe a lot melodramatic. hee


I was attracted to your fire
Long before I burned my own course,
Poaching myself with something existentially void--
A material pursuit, a ring, a charm.
But your mind was made up,
As natural as it sounds.
I wanted to float through your deserts,
Basking in the eternally lame nature metaphors
I can no doubt keep making up.

I burned your self-portrait, you know--
Watching your wise eyes finally melt.
Regret looms like smoke on the hill over that one.
What was I thinking? Just that I must burn.
My soul's heat needed to spread,
Or maybe yours would contain it.
Either way, I managed to stamp it out,
And you did not survive.

You gave me back my pieces.
The wife may have had something to do with that.
My son's eyes now burned in my direction,
But you are the wind, the rain, the ocean.
I hold my breath and sink into you now,
Eternally consumed--another cliche.
But the flame attracts me too much
To pretend I am anything other than winged.