Two P's from A Prod

I’m not one who is prone to poetic prose. It’s out of my comfort zone. As a writer however, I feel it’s important to keep an open mind. I do the same as an avid reader. Instead of a comfort zone, I step out of my preferred genre(s) on occasion. It’s healthy. Sometimes it’s even successful. Others…?

On two separate occasions this year, my writing turned to poetry, poetry at the last minute, poetry via prompt, poetry on the fly. In April, I attended a free writing program sponsored by the New York Writer’s Coalition at the Broadway branch of the Queens Library. “Write Now!” is a fast paced, fun session where the facilitator will offer random prompts simply to get writers writing. I don’t know if I would call it therapeutic, but for me this bi-weekly get together offers such a release. It’s energizing and inspiring just to free-write, to let the pen flow in any direction it wants to go. Instead of outside the comfort zone, I think of it as the road not taken. The one I tend to avoid is Poetry Blvd.

On this particular Saturday afternoon, the first prompt was something called a Found Poem. We were to pull one line or phrase from a Shakespeare sonnet (chosen by the host) and create a short piece of prose. If Shakespeare did not inspire (frankly the good bard has never really cut it for me), we could simply write something of our own. She set the timer for 10 minutes and we were off. I didn’t think that I could do it. As the clock ticked, I could feel the sweat beginning to pour out of me. I began to hyperventilate.

I’m kidding actually.

I did come up with something that I am proud to share here.

Does Spring birth poems?

Words in bloom

A quiet room

A sunny day,

Summer soon

Days gone by

Days long gone

Carefree youth

A boy’s first kiss

A boyhood crush

A boy

Crushed

There it is, my first official poem.

Two months later, mid-June, I found myself deep at work on chapter 13 of the novel that I am writing, and as these things often happen with me, an idea came unbidden as I slept one night. In order to woo the girl on to the Ferris wheel at the county fair, the male character in this particular scene would recite poetry to her. Prose of his own making. Another prompt, a prod from the great beyond. I tossed, I turned, I lost A LOT of sleep that night.

This time I’m not kidding.

I did come up with something that makes me blush as I share it here.

“Her eyes, go round, her heart, it pounds.

The wheel, it spins, and he just grins.

Her hand, he grabs. ‘I can’t,’ she blabs.

He squeezes tight. ‘It will be all right.’

He walks behind, gently pushin’

Together they sit upon the cushion.

The wheel begins its upward climb.

She’s trapped within, but it’s no crime.

The top they reach, and it’s no blunder.

Her eyes, they shine, his spell she’s under

The wheel turns ‘round. Her heart…it pounds.”

There you have it. My second poem by way of Romeo (no relation to the aforementioned bard); the illicit love interest from my own pages.

Two poems from prompts. Or as I like to think of it:

Two P’s from a Prod

Tom