An assignment for my lyric poetry writing class is to write 6-10 lines of poetry a day. It doesn't matter if they aren't cohesive or even good. The professor just wants us to keep our creative gears well oiled. I'm enjoying the assignment lots. Here's what I've written the past three days. Do you notice any trends in theme or meter? (Point them out to me if you.)
And green glass stars
etched with regal bars
and barrels and curlicues
shine by wick
through a glass darkly.
They become monsters
with memories of homes
left in a hurry.
Unread books populate a shelf screwed together with threads, not bolts.
A slap-stick comedic performance piece,
Your host a misguided youth
So far from home he can finally feel
the exhilarating flip-flop-crunch
of this car-crash nightmare come to fruition
at the base of a gravel driveway
that leads to heaven's condominium.
Not a pie-in-the-sky,
but closer than a ladder would take you.
And I ask you, Walt Whitman,
though I call not from a Supermarket in California
but from an Apartment in Tennessee,
Where is my self-defining lyric, my song of self?
Over past the nature trails and river bends
Shirtless young men ride skinny pink bicycles
with whizzing tires and clinking chains.
They have music each moment they journey.
Can you locate my tune?