Day 15 Prompt: Rewrite an old poem, or reinterpret an old piece of art you’ve created. If you don’t have something - find a story/poem and create your own poetic retelling. Context: This is a Take-Two of a poem I wrote in 2020. I will post the original poem and then a response poem to the original. Any suggestions for either poem is welcomed. ----------------------------------------------- Between Silences (the Observer's POV) There are days that silence rages so fiercely, I fear the panes will crack and cave. O how I long for your witty exchanges once more. We spend hours, lingered in poetry, conversations enlightened with articulation, and then your mind snaps; Silence. I learn to entertain myself between silences, to sift through diaries left haphazardly on tabletops. The words you’ve written scream for release; your tortured mind begs for forgiveness. I want to wrap you in my arms and chase away whatever beast has your tongue. The silence seeps under doorways; a smoky haze soaks the room. There are days when you wander the halls as if there is something you want to say. I wait, in anticipation, for one mere syllable, just one sound of recognition from your lips, to explore the vast knowledge imprisoned in your mind. Such madness controls you. Given the chance, I would say all the things you cannot, if only I knew the words. ©2020 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved. -------------------------------------------------------- The Din of Silence (the Deranged's POV) you take my silence as a personal affront but there isn’t room here for your pain — these halls and rooms within my mind are overflowing — there’s nowhere to hide no exit doors to escape; I am trapped should I trap you too? would that ease the burden you bear for loving me? I see you lingering like a looming ghost pouring over my discarded nightmares reading and re-reading my ink blots wishing to analyze why I push you away but you won’t find the answers there don’t you see, this isn’t about you none of this is about you — it’s all about me your soul couldn’t hold the horrors screaming in the silence of my mind the din of a million demons rage — they’ve struck fear in my trembling muses locked them in a dungeon, chained there are no words, no articulations to explain — and even if I could speak them they would bury you ©2024 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved.

It appears that I will still be writing poems from this challenge well into October, but I am not going to beat myself up over it. After almost 2 years of not writing poems regularly, the mere fact that I have written 7 is a reason to celebrate for me. Plus, I want quality poems, so the quantity isn't as important. Off to fix another pot of coffee and make a grand attempt at another poem this morning. See you all at the Zoom meeting.

I will try to be there. I haven't had an ounce of sleep, so it depends on whether or not I can keep myself awake. It's going to be a high octane day for sure.

Thanks for your lovely, compassionate comments, Genevieve. The saddest part - she had 2 kids with him and he has custody and she cannot even visit with them because she had a mental breakdown after leaving him and he used it against her in court. She has been away from him for 6 years now and she is still broken. He did a real number on her psyche.

Awesome, Adam! I cannot wait to receive my copy. Where do you announce the Saturday Zoom meetings? Here or elsewhere? I think this is why I forgot last week's meeting - I didn't know where it was announced.

This is powerful, Sara! I love how you used the prompt in this and the wave metaphor. That last stanza has a powerful punch. I have no suggestions on how you could tweak this more. Personally, I think it is perfect as is.

Day 7 prompt: A Wild Card (I don't remember who posted that or if it was even an official poem prompt, but I just went with it) A Wildling Caged I remember your once wild and beautiful spirit your smile that lit up the room and your laughter O, that infectious laughter - full belly rolls I remember your wild strawberry-blond curls how they framed your heart-shaped face and those too-large sparkling green eyes I remember your wild, free-spirited lifestyle how you flitted from place to place a butterfly on a social mission, encompassing all I remember how some tried to tame your wildness and told them you would wither if caged but that didn't stop them from trying, again and again I remember after a long season of absence when you finally returned - tamed and timid dull-eyed, cropped curls, a wildling caged O, how I mourn for the woman you were as I cradle you - a downtrodden, lifeless shell and pray that, with care, your wildness returns ©2024 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved. -------------------------------------------------------- Context: This prompt, or Notprompt, intrigued me. My Reiki Master's daughter was such a wildling once, but after a decade living as a 'second wife' to a domineering man, her wildness became tamed. I wanted to honor her with this poem. Any suggestions are welcomed... especially in the last stanza - does it flow well?

Thanks for the feedback, Adam. I added the 'still' in the first two stanzas to play off of the 'steal' in the last two lines. I would have added 'still' to the third stanza, but I couldn't get it to fit in anywhere and I really like that stanza. I think that is where my hiccups were coming from.

Day 6 Prompt: Why not borrow a line from Shakespeare and use it as a starting point? The Cruelty of Reflection My glass shall not persuade me I am old... - Sonnet 22, William Shakespeare The face before me in the looking glass is not the face I see in my mind's eye These wrinkles, frown lines, sagging skin they do not reflect my still young heart This hand holding an empty wine glass with it's paper-thin skin and age spots tingly fingertips and stiff joints is not the hand of my still youthful spirit I am not persuaded by these glasses resting upon my less-than perky nose that Father Time has caught up with me turning me into an ag'ed crone So cruel glass, you can mimic and mock me but you can never steal my youthful soul ©2024 Lori Carlson. All rights reserved. ------------------------------------------------------ Context: I quite like using Shakespeare as a jumping point. His line about glass really intrigued me as I struggle with the aging of my body, but not my mind or spirit. As I seek feedback, please let me know if this poem flows easily for you as a reader. I've read it aloud and sense a hiccup or two, but not sure if it is my own inability to read my poetry aloud or if there are indeed hiccups, Thank you!

I tried to write one of these in college. Never quite accomplished it. I will give this a go, although it may take me the next two weeks to complete it. 😉😁🖤

Renewed (a Haibun) from this earth I came a babe of ignorant shame to earth I return And so I do this. Strip off the layers of filth that clog my pores each and every day from the hatred, bigotry and self-righteous indignation splashed upon me by the outside world. I take brush in hand and scrub and scrub until I bleed. Rub myself raw to give back to the Earth each cell of my being. Wrap myself in cold water, a shock back to reality. I am not the master here. I am merely Earth’s servant. As each lie I tell myself washes down the drain, I become renewed, rejuvenated and memory resurfaces. I am peace. I am love. I am. to earth I return renewed, rejuvenated peaceful lamb once more ©2024 Lori Carlson. All Rights Reserved.

Day 4 Prompt: Write a poem about a time when love transformed a difficult situation. Renewed (a Haibun) from this earth I came a babe of ignorant shame to earth I return And so I do this. Strip off the layers of filth that clog my pores each and every day from the hatred, bigotry and self-righteous indignation splashed upon me by the outside world. I take brush in hand and scrub and scrub until I bleed. Rub myself raw to give back to the Earth each cell of my being. Wrap myself in cold water, a shock back to reality. I am not the master here. I am merely Earth’s servant. As each lie I tell myself washes down the drain, I become renewed, rejuvenated and memory resurfaces. I am peace. I am love. I am. to earth I return renewed, rejuvenated peaceful lamb once more ©2024 Lori Carlson. All Rights Reserved. __________________________________ Context: As I said in another post, I have a difficult time with the concept of love, especially where others are concerned. I can usually grasp the concept when it comes to nature and I had begun a Haibun in that direction. However, I decided to take it into a 'self love' direction instead. I am still not sure I reached the full focus of the prompts. Any advice would be well-received. And as you can see, I am still way behind.

We had a family emergency on Monday that has kept me from writing. So I am even more behind. I plan on spending the next couple of days and the weekend to 'hopefully' catch up. I do have a few lines for each day's poem, so there's that. I also need to catch up with reading and commenting here. I hope everyone is having fun writing. Hope to engage with you all during the next few days.

Interesting idea, Mark. I hadn't thought about it. When the dizzy spells hit, my head swims and I am nauseous and usually driven to bed. I cannot even think of words forming or wanting to take shape at that moment. The good news - I think we (meaning my doctor and I) may have discovered the source of my dizzy spells - an inner ear blockage and infection. Since being put on an antibiotic and ear drops, the blockage has eased up and the pain has gone away. And so have the constant dizzy spells. Now instead of 2-3 a day, I have gone nearly 3 days without a single dizzy spell.

Thank you so much for these excellent suggestions, Sara! This helps me more than you can even imagine. My muse is forming a haibun in my mind (a mixture of haiku and prose poetry). Off to experiment!

Fantastic prompting, Herb! My muse is already doing wordplays in my head!

🤣 I am so predictable!

Thanks for your input, Genevieve. At first, I did use 'imminent' but I also wanted to portray that the house has a firm grip on the teens and their deaths are just 'built in' whether they know it or not, so I changed it to 'immanent. In the line "but they know nothing of the haunts' disengage', I tried to convey a hidden agenda of those who haunt the place. That before their own demise, they had disengaged from one another, society as a whole, and their own rational minds. And because the teens don't know about this hidden agenda, they are unaware that it will lead them all astray too. If that makes sense.

Thanks for taking the time to analyze the poem, Yvonne. I have taken out 'along' in the final edit of the poem because I agree, cobwebs just hang, not move about. The whole premise of the 4th stanza is that the house itself is alive in a ghostly sense. So the teens feel safe there because the house understands their rage. And in the third line, the 'know nothing' relates to the hidden agenda of those who still haunt the place - in my head, long before the original habitants all died, they had disengaged from one another, from society at large, and from their own rational minds... if that makes sense.

Tragically beautiful, Sara! I really love the last two lines.