Today is the first day of National Poetry Month. If you read my 10 National Poetry Month Activities post, you probably noticed that “Write poetry” was on the list. Of course I constantly write poetry (or else I wouldn’t be much of a poet). I haven’t posted poems to my blog in a long time, thanks to someone trying to steal one, but I’ve decided to participate in Robert Lee Brewer’s April PAD (Poem-a-Day) Challenge and post each day’s work here (in addition to in the comments thread of his blog where he has asked people to share).
The April PAD Challenge isn’t the only daily poetry challenge available this month, and, in fact, there are many websites that offer daily poetry prompts year round. I rarely write work using writing prompts, but I think that using prompts can provide wonderful practice. When I was younger, and perhaps less wise, I thought writing from prompts indicated lack of creativity, but I now feel that prompts can increase creativity. It challenges one to be creative while staying within the prompt guidelines. Challenge improves art.
What you’ll see each day this month are all first drafts. Whether or not some poems proceed to later writing stages is, obviously, the poet’s prerogative. If I yield poems this month that are worthy of adding to my personal canon, then I will be pleased. If not, then the practice will help my writing in a more general sense. Feel free to join those of us who are doing April PAD (or NaPoWriMo or whatever other challenges).
Today’s prompt calls for a “communication” poem. My attempt follows:
“Scenes in Super 8″
Mind if I call you later?
You see, I don’t always know
what to say when you’re here.
But later, when my mind replays
this moment, this dialogue,
casting famous actors in our roles
and shooting scenes in Super 8,
I will know my lines.
Let me practice in front of my
large vanity mirror, timing myself,
perfecting my inflection.
But I can’t call you later, can I?
Now is the only now we have.
Later, we’ll no longer be the two
we are sitting here, captured only
in the constant thread of time.
My makeup will never be perfect,
just as the light will always miss
your face. We’ll never be a movie.
I will never be Clark Gable.