v e r l i e b u r r o u g h s

  She’s a wild Turkey off to see the world ‘Cause there’s such a lot of world to see She’s looking dreamy, got her feathers furled Sweet drifter, where she’s from is a mystery Everyone loves her, she’s the new bird in town Some call her Rosie, Some call her a turkey Waldorf Astoria is where she was found Reading the menu for breakfast at Tiffany’s Up between the moon and New York City She sleeps in trees, has everything she needs Cops keep trying to capture her, a pity She won’t be caught she flies away with ease And kind folks follow to see she has cover May she live long and find her true lover. Challenge: Write a sonnet – or at least something “sonnet-shaped.” Think about the concept of the sonnet as a song, and let the format of a song inform your attempt. Be as strict or not strict as you want. To refresh you on the “rules” of the traditional sonnet: 14 lines 10 syllables per line Those syllables are divided into five iambic feet. (An iamb is an unstressed syllable follow...

  She was lovely when she appeared on stage like a beautiful butterfly in her gorgeous tie dyed dress, took my breath away I felt like I had died and gone to heaven when she started to play To say I was a fan is an understatement And it was my first concert ever anyway at the Queen Elizabeth theatre   in Vancouver in my student days Perfect venue for the occasion and not too far from the downtown bus station She sang accompanied by her guitar all her wonderful songs that I loved The audience was in awe and respectful we were thrilled that she was home again She had a place on the Sunshine Coast where she could paint and make her pottery Just another hippie freak when she wasn’t touring. The concert was lovely in every way I was transported and delighted to be there As she giggled and laughed (in her breezy way) I had just come back from travelling to Spain myself And felt like I was there again. Challenge: write a poem that recounts an experience of hearing live music, and tel...

This poem isn’t going well It pains me to tell you I cannot sing,  I was banned from Karaoki (true story) And I’m ashamed to say I only learned to play rudimentary piano, and guitar and sing off key my Bob Dylan repertoire Some were kind She’s got a character voice But others cruel   Sing solo my friends would say So low we can’t hear you And maybe (I can only guess) That is why I write poetry today.   Challenge: write a poem that involves people making music together, and that references – with a lyric or line – a song or poem that is important to you.

 Birds  awake at dawn sweet trills and chitter chatter rustling into day challenge: write a poem that focuses on birdsong Repost from 2018  I have Starlings nesting in the roof but not heard any chicks yet this year.

  A folded paper fortune teller, pick a colour any colour and I will tell you your future and your true love’s name . I was a precocious child   I would bring my knitting to kindergarten to show for show and tell (and show everyone on the ride there in the limousine) I had a lot of pride and self esteem for a child of five Just happy to be alive… I could throw a ball against a wall and spin around and catch it before it hit the ground, I could climb the weeping willow tree in our yard and shoot straight with a BB gun (my brothers showed me how) Life was marvellous never dull, it was magical always interesting. Sometimes I feel like I am still a child inside and in dreams I see that weeping willow tree that seems to call me back for one more climb But my folded paper fortune teller tells me no We must accept (relent) to growing old. Challenge: write a poem about something you’ve done – whether it’s music lessons, or playing soccer, crocheting, or fishing, or learning how to cha...

  Sauntering words take a jaunt around the proverbial block   taking in the evening air, not stopping at my door where I wait for them there. I envy their easy going stride as they pass without a glance. How is it words can be so cruel to walk right past? Shyly I open the door hoping they will find me   But no, off they go whispering sweet nothings. Challenge Day 21:  write a poem in which something that normally unfolds in a set and well understood way  — like a baseball game or dance recital – goes haywire, but is described as if it is all very normal. Another repost, this one from 2020

  She writes of the song of the morning that she heard on a wing and a prayer She sees all the shapes in the borning but when she looks close nobody is there She writes of the sound of the morning and the growl of the thrumming sea a growl like a mourning prayer while birds tumble over in air Their wings are all tufted and lacy bright eyes peer back at her stare She writes from a dream now grown hazy of a past that she left who knows where fast tracking back to a feeling when  she was there wheeling wildly without a care. Challenge Day 20:Taking inspiration from Theodore Roethke’s poem “ In Evening Air”  write a poem informed by musical phrasing or melody, that employs some form of soundplay (rhyme, meter, assonance, alliteration). One way to approach this is to think of a song you know and then basically write new lyrics that fit the original song’s rhythm/phrasing. My poem using rhythm and phrasing inspired by Algernon Charles Swinburne poem ~ By the North Sea...

  A ballad you say?  In a small town it’s not wise to talk about someone else’s luck, or curse. It’s the kind of thing that can end badly with feelings hurt, or worse. So most folks whisper quietly over tea and would not deign to write it out in verse. Stories that would make you weep like the secrets that you keep Until your dying day. Challenge: write a poem that tells a story in the style of a blues song or ballad. One way into this prompt may be to use it to retell a family tragedy or story, or to retell a crime or tragic event that occurred in your hometown. Realizing this prompt is completely out of my depth at the moment given the time constraints.

 I was always singing in the car, you wouldn’t have wanted to be there,  I have a terrible voice. It was four in the morning the end of October I was driving alone on a long journey down the island to see Leonard Cohen in concert in Vancouver the next day. There was an unexpected snowfall, but I managed to plow through  in my old vintage car, a ‘65 Pontiac Barracuda  (with the glass back, my first car!) Nice and heavy, but slow going in the deepening snow through the Nimpkish valley, only a few cars on the road. I noticed a car had slid off the shoulder ahead of me so I stopped to see, and it was my friend Chris Nancarrow! (the painter) and her friend, down in the ditch sitting in their car which had landed gently in the deep snow, and still upright. And they were fine, quite cozy, wrapped in fur coats  (looking  like a scene out of Dr Zhivago)  waiting for a tow truck, and waved me on. It’s very strange, looking back now, how lucky they were, and lu...

 Sorceresses of surrealism (as they are known today) Painters, Carrington and Varo makers of the magical, defying the logical refusing to conform  Found a key to the secret door connected to the liminal space Tapping in to the mystery intangible as a dream A life-line for their creativity rooted deeply in the nourishing stream. Overshadowed by the greats Khalo and Rivera,  Dali and Magritte They held their ground  did not succumb to envy or mimicry Kept their own integrity and originality. Exiled in Mexico, suddenly free  from the storm of war and tyranny  they painted dreamscapes, subconscious themes And practised the secret arts of alchemy preparing potions and remedies Bonded by their fabulous artistry and mutual respect and admiration they remained, close friends for life And the rest is history. Challenge: The surrealist painters Remedios Varo and Leonora Carrington moved to Mexico during the height of World War II, where they began a life-long friends...

  There’s  a wild Turkey named Astoria  recently spotted roosting in a tree in downtown Manhattan   Pictures posted show her perched  daintily on somebody’s balcony railing First we’ll take Manhattan  Then we’ll take Berlin . Everyone is worried about her since she left the quiet safety of Roosevelt Island Flew right across the river, a long way for a turkey! They say she’s probably lonely looking for a mate What are the chances of finding another wild turkey in the city?   Slim to none I'd say I’ve grown quite fond of Astoria   I hope she finds what she is looking for. Challenge: try writing a poem that  imposes a particular song on a place. Describe the interaction between the place and the music using references to a plant and, if possible, incorporate a quotation – bonus points for using a piece of everyday, overheard language.

  Go out to the garden today its only a few steps away See the pink buds opening on the cherry blossom tree The yellow pollen powder drifting in the breeze Like a lily that blooms for only one day It won’t be the same tomorrow as it is today A vision, fleeting, like an hour that won’t come again. Challenge: write a six-line poem informed by repetition, simple language, and expressing enthusiasm with a sermon/prayer-like quality,  that ends with a bang.

  Tide pools filled with bull heads (tiny fish) that wiggled in her throat when I talked my city cousin in to eating one. On this rocky beach leaping one pool to the next  searching for crabs or anything that moved  the deep pools were the best. Limpets hidden under Chinese hats attached like barnacles to the rock Starfish, snails and strange shelled creatures Slippery squishy popping seaweed Blowing loud through hollow kelp Mimicking the fog horn and ships in harbour signaling arrivals and departures. Could have played all day there until dark But the tide would rise. no surprise We learned early to run for higher ground And it was seldom anybody drowned. Challenge: imagine the “music” of a place without people in it, try writing a poem that describes a place, particularly in terms of the animals, plants or other natural phenomena there. Sink into the sound of your location, and use a conversational tone. Incorporate slant rhymes (near or off-rhymes, like “angle” an...

 I wonder if the birds are poets in disguise The mourning dove’s song is three slow beats in a row  A soulful solo with a chorus, then a pause Almost a Haiku, sound of Spring, with the kigo   The melody sad, always the same, sun or rain  Like a song you would sing rowing home in the rain. Challenge: prompt for the day (optional, as always). Donald Justice’s poem, “There is a gold light in certain old paintings,” plays with both art and music, and uses an interesting self-invented form. His six-line stanzas use lines of twelve syllables, and while they don’t use rhyme, they repeat end words. Specifically, the second and fourth line of each stanza repeat an end-word or syllable; he fifth and sixth lines also repeat their end-word or syllable. Today, we challenge you to write a poem that uses Justice’s invented form.

  It was late, the full moon was high aloft And it wasn’t pink   not made of green cheese either And what about the man in the moon? Was he enjoying his job keeping  the lights on? Suddenly,  as if on cue She felt like her arms grew And her back bent And she caught the scent of something tasty What could it be? There was a Greek restaurant down the street Maybe go have something to eat Walking at night felt so free She forgot it was past three The park was deserted and quiet Not a soul around. Why did she suddenly feel like howling? A funny story to tell her friends The night was so peaceful A  cool breeze, but not freezing No reason to hurry Ah-hoo, Ah-hoo Ah-hoo, Ah-hoo Challenge :  try writing a poem making reference to one or more myths, legends, or other well-known stories, that features wordplay (including rhyme), mixes formal and informal language, and contains multiple sections that play with a theme.  Try also to incorporate at least one ...