prompt

The Woman who Couldn’t Die: a Blackout Poem

A prompt from Maureen Thorson.

“Write your own blackout poem. Maybe you’ll find something of interest in the Internet Archives.”

According to Claire McNerney, from The Writing Cooperative, “blackout poetry is a form of found poetry where the poet takes a text and removes words from it, creating a new text”.

Here’s mine:

She looked like a goddess,
no doubt,
in another way,
she seemed very much a woman.
She was primitive,
casual
in her childlike uncovering of her body,
in the unconcern of the eyes of others
when she bathed.
She knew that she was beautiful;
and she had knowledge of the power
of beauty.

She watched a wild goose fly overhead,
watched it as it disappeared from sight.
“Tell me,” she said, “where did I come from?”

Needling of apprehension through my body.
How much she should be told
was not easy to determine.
“From across the sea.”
“It must have been long ago.”
“Yes. It was long ago.”

Isabelle Palerma

The Rules of the Game: a Poem

A prompt from Megan Amber.

“the rules of the game.”

Nobody ever taught me the rules,
yet
it seems like everyone else was given
some kind of handbook
to follow.

I don’t even know if I have the same pieces
or even a game board.

I’m still circling back to square one,
trying to understand where I am
and why I’m here.
The rules of the game were never explicit,
and yet
everyone else knows how to follow them.

I’m lost as usual, searching
for something,
some kind of footing,
some kind of grounding,
but it isn’t a puzzle where you just
slide a piece in and it interlocks.

Nothing makes sense.
Like I said,
I’m lost
as usual,
and I’m stuck
searching for a rulebook,
some kind of handbook
to follow.

Isabelle Palerma

Where I’m From: a Poem

A prompt from thomaskneelandpoetry:

write a poem about where you come from.

From a place where a house feels less like
home
and more like
a museum.
From a mother whose voice pierced
and a father who used a belt
to prove himself.
From sibling rivalry and brothers
who were class clown and golden.
From a place where I was simultaneously
never enough & too much.
From a place where I was silenced,
so a pen became my voice.
From a place where I used metaphor
to express thought
because reality hit too close to home.
From a place where a house never felt like
a home.

Isabelle Palerma

Her Beauty in Full: a Poem

As April starts Global Poetry Writing Month, I figured I’d kick off the month with a poem of my own. The prompt comes from raeonpaper:

the moon’s yearning whisper.

The deterioration of her internal language
results in an abject pleading,
a fullness only seen from behind the gauze
of cloud,
the thin of cloth, the shape of pregnancy.
A moon’s desolate murmur.

She speaks in a low tone,
too soft for most,
yet those who listen
know.

Isabelle Palerma

The Girl Underneath: a Poem

A poetry prompt from elenaspoetry, “a letter to my stranger self”.

You grew and shrank like that girl
in Wonderland.
Drink me, eat me, taste me.
But nobody knew what to expect of you.
You were constantly shifting to be who they wanted,
but
they weren’t satisfied.

One day,
you looked in a mirror
and dissolved
into a million pieces,
breaking apart and yet unrecognizable
as a stranger is.

You thought you’d finally know yourself
underneath all those layers,
but the truth is
you’d hidden away so long,
you had become unfamiliar to even you.

I wish I could remind you
of who you were,
but I’m only now starting to unravel the girl underneath.

She is lovely, searching, yet
something phenomenal nonetheless.

If you see her,
let her know I’m looking for her
too.