April isn’t really the cruelest month, it’s actually National Poetry Month. We should celebrate. Between the tornado sirens and the Arkansas River floodwaters, there needs to be some moment of peaceful, poetic delight. Otherwise, we would all sound just like ‘ol T. S. – and have you ever really heard him? Well, I don’t know many voices that can conjure up such large-scale depression. On with the delight, then.
The first exciting bit of news is that we have a winner in last week’s Scribble Challenge. Aedh’s poem “Tulips” wins hands down by following Cruelanimal’s lead a few weeks ago and scaring off the competition. Congratulations, Aedh! Be sure to copy/paste the coveted No Tellin’ Winner’s Blog Badge to your own blog. You’ve earned it.
This week’s Scribble Challenge needs to be something celebratory and April-y. And I’m convinced it should be poetry in some form or other, in Honor of National Poetry Month. Write about dancing. It can be anything from your first junior high dance to Britany Spears doing The Stumble. You can write about your high school prom or your first trip to a strip club. Hopefully they didn’t occur on the same night, but if they did, write about that too. Write about the ballet or the mosh pit, I don’t care. Surprise all of us. To get you rolling, I’ve included a couple of inspiring dance videos. Now, go make poems.
4 thoughts on “Weekly No Tellin’ Scribble Challenge, and last week’s winner”
I may have posted this one over at EasyStreet. It’s the first part of a three poem sequence called “Poems About God” (for no particular reason), set up it the form of tragic structure: Pity, Fear, and Catharsis (again, for no particular reason). Here is the first movement, which works nicely with your prompt. I waive my right to win the contest since I have already won recently, but if you’ve got no other takers this week (i.e., I scare off the competition), I’d like to donate my badge to Abigail, She Wrote since she’s chomping at the bit for one.>>I. Pity>>You want to tell them as >you chaperone the seventh-grade dance>You want them to know, the wallflowers>Pudgy girls in puffed sleeves, >queer boys with acne scars to be >That this too will pass that>They too will love and be loved.>And not just the awkward ones but >All of them, the cologne musked of them,>The heavy eye-shadowed,>That they will blaze in high school glory or>Be doused with lonely desire and>They will frighten and fail, >And they will fly away and up>From adolescence,>Then know their beauty >in this single moment>Later. Much too late.
Uhhhh, it turned a little darker than intended, but there is still dancing. I consider that a victory.>>>Slàinte>>Hand in hand and>Hearts in beat>They pound the music>With their feet.>>The people crowd around>And cheer>To mark the passing>Of the Year>>But Dancers know>What crowds know not,>They dance their dance>To bring the rot.>>The tempo wrinkles>Clapping Hands>And turns lush grass>Into sands.>>Smiling faces,>Now skeletal grin,>And organs start>To pool within.>>Still they dance,>Out in the street,>Hand in hand,>Hearts in beat,>>They do not dare>To stop their feet.
Okay, so there an interesting edge to the dancing entries. I like it.>>Tim’s poem makes me do the “mom face” (awwwwwblesstheirhearts) and Aedh’s is victoriously dark indeed. You need to read the fairy tale “The Red Shoes.” Immediately.
Ha, I just read it and it is fantastic. The don’t make children’s tales quite as demented as they used to.