The more I work my way through The Artist’s Way, the more I am reminded how writing used to be fun before there were rules and judgments and an internal editor screaming “NO! You’ll never win a Nobel Prize for this silly story! And only Nobel stories are worth your effort!” So, I am especially grateful to The Rational Psychic for posting this fun poetry exercise on his blog. There are rules and points to be had. I think I got the maximum of 20 with this gem. Feel free to play along:
Near the city, snow is a vanilla blemish on our day.
Above your head, I fling a pill of white from my hand,
Which lands next to a cinnamon wooden post,
Sitting squat on the shore of ice.
From this gesture, inside this moment, I pray you will
Know that under my bravado, the wheel of my tame heart
Is spinning around her axis like a gypsy called Althea
Dancing to a wild accordion.
Bill, I cannot quash the pounding.
I aim four times more, and slip my mitten in your hand,
And pray for more snow.