I can't believe it's that time of the week again but here we are. I invite you to read Unreliable by Sarah Kay. We discussed this poem in my Friday workshop last night and it sparked a lot of interesting discussions around what we, as readers, perceive as the truth and what we, as writers, present as the truth.
Right off the bat, the author says that she lies to herself all the time. If we read this as an internal monologue, rather than a conversation with somebody, it throws into question the validity of each line. She uses wonderful images of 'Look at this bird, this childhood memory, / that light falling on his body in the steam.' But then she says 'Boom' as if she brings these things into reality. More than that, she has full confidence that people believe her no matter what.
The entire poem is closed with the harrowing question of 'What if what you are is boring / and alive, what are you going to do then?' This question suggests that the speaker wouldn't be satisifed with just being alive. She needs to be more than boring.
So, the prompts... I have a couple in mind:
Find a word that describes you. In this instance, Sarah used the word 'Unreliable'. It could be funny, clever, daydreamer, whatever. And write a poem exploring how you are a definition of that word.
Similarly, think of that word as a prize. What I mean is: the poem opens with 'Where is my prize for most unreliable narrator?' When I wrote my poem last night, I started with 'Where is my prize for most likely to cry?'
It would also be fun to explore the idea of the unreliable narrator. Write a poem filled with truths and lies. Prove that you're an unreliable narrator.
I can't wait to see what you come up with.
Here's my attempt with prompt #1 Poem #50, Stubborn
by Emily Gibson
Stubborn is the
opposite of persistent. Both
rooted in the denial of others’
knowledge, limits or cautions.
Why should their prior experience
derail my objective?
For I am a different person.
I am stubborn.
Even direct evidence to the contrary
hasn’t swayed me.
“It is pronounced maz-a-gine!”
I insisted, long after I
learned to spell,
just to watch my brother sputter.
Whether others define me
as stubborn or persistent
merely clues
their opinion of the outcome.
Successfully crossing the nation on bicycle:
“4,000 miles? How persistent you were!”
But it
required stubbornness
to survive the toils and stick to the goal.
Pursuing another (4th) job in another state
to find the right fit?
“Stop being so stubborn, bloom where you are planted!”
But it
required persistence to listen to my heart
and keep trying.
I have learned to embrace being stubborn,
instead of hearing it as criticism. I try to
stop pushing when I stub my knuckles for the 3rd time,
take a break, reassess, consider seeking advice,
have a sandwich, make some tea,
before I dive in to finish what I began,
until stubbornness flips to
persistence, again.