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LisaJeanineWinettPoems
Here's a challenge for any poet out there...and a tiny bit of critique, on this site many of the poems are about the same subject, love, sadness, the blackness of life, suicide, hate for the life they are in, nature. And they are often times very general. What about something more specific, a moment, an event, a person, Here's the challenge: Find one of your favorite poets and pick a poem you like by them. Look at the subject matter and write a poem of your own using the same or a similar subject matter. Leave your poem in the comments section... Here's my poet and poem i picked: The Morning Baking Grandma, come back, I forgot How much lard for these rolls Think you can put yourself in the ground Like plain potatoes and grow in Ohio? I am **** sick of getting fat like you Think you can lie through your Slovak? Tell filthy stories about the blood sausage? Pish-pish nights at the ****** in Detroit? I blame your raising me up for my Slav tongue You beat me up out back, taught me to dance I'll tell you I don't remember any kind of bread Your wavy loaves of flesh Stink through my sleep The stars on your silk robes But I'm glad I'll look when I'm old Like a gypsy dusha hauling milk by Carolyn Forché
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Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
Poem Challenge Prompt
Here's a challenge for any poet out there...and a tiny bit of critique, on this site many of the poems are about the same subject, love, sadness, the blackness of life, suicide, hate for the life they are in, nature. And they are often times very general. What about something more specific, a moment, an event, a person, Here's the challenge: Find one of your favorite poets and pick a poem you like by them. Look at the subject matter and write a poem of your own using the same or a similar subject matter. Leave your poem in the comments section... Here's my poet and poem i picked: The Morning Baking Grandma, come back, I forgot How much lard for these rolls Think you can put yourself in the ground Like plain potatoes and grow in Ohio? I am **** sick of getting fat like you Think you can lie through your Slovak? Tell filthy stories about the blood sausage? Pish-pish nights at the ****** in Detroit? I blame your raising me up for my Slav tongue You beat me up out back, taught me to dance I'll tell you I don't remember any kind of bread Your wavy loaves of flesh Stink through my sleep The stars on your silk robes But I'm glad I'll look when I'm old Like a gypsy dusha hauling milk by Carolyn Forché
LisaJeanineWinett
Written by
LisaJeanineWinett
54/F/Baltimore, MD
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
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