The poem is waiting for you
Wednesday, September 2, 2009 - CHALLENGES
[CHALLENGE: GET POETIC]
Brace yourself: This is a tough one. I’m halfway through a blackout when I realize that I am like Michelangelo, who always said that the statue was in the stone—it was the sculptor’s job to chip away the parts that didn't belong.
I’m looking for rhythms and patterns and poetry using only the words printed on a single sheet of a magazine or newspaper. The rest is blacked out with a Sharpie, á la Austin Cleon, whose newspaper blackout poems touch on relationships, cartwheels, nothingness—oh, and big cats.
It’s much more difficult than it looks. But your reward is the poem within: Did you just write it? Or was it there waiting for you all along?
Grab a page from a newspaper, magazine, or a book you wish you'd never read (I'm looking at you, Twilight). Black-it-out until you discover the poem within. Take pic, and post the link below.
:: discovering poetry in guitar player magazine by CSW
not really quite or at all what was asked for but i thought it was worth posting
having issues posting pics on this pooter.
Anyone ever have a month,where if it could go wrong; it do.
Like you've been hiking through the desert, then the swamp, and you're the shoe.
Wait forget that, you're the sock inside that shoe.
Unchanged for four whole weeks.
Get kicked out of Wal-Mart just because of how bad you reek.
Then tie that foot to an alcoholic who cannot control his bladder.
Set you're mind unto that picture, before you ask me whats the matter.
So now you got a glimpse, of a sock in an infested shoe.
Yes that maybe how I feel, good thing feelings aren't always true.
cause who wants to be that sock inside that awful shoe.
but the bum washed his hair in Jermack.
Got that bounce back beautiful snare.
Finally opened up a place in his heart, where he can honestly say he cared.
So... you wanna talk about the fall down?
Or hear about the step up?
Use this mic now like a trike.
Go ahead and let the world be all f____ up.
Cause a bum cannot control the world;
neither can his socks.
So pack up all you value and let that be your rock.
If you put it in your pipe and smoke it.
Don't complain when it all be gone.
Who else can you really blame . if you choose to live your life wrong.
Or just take that rock with all you value, and invest in it only Love.
What could be the circumstance that can't be rose above.
Beeing a sock inside a filthy shoe, every perception can be cleansed.
Just like every sail on every ship needs only to find the wind.
So blow it off is what they tell me
The rocking sock of blues.
Cause hopefully he'll change his socks,
when i wear out these shoes.
@banana_cave A very vivid image came to mind with I read yours, maybe because I've see so many sad photos in the news the past few days but it felt sincere. Incredible work. =)
Let it be known I'm an awful poet- with or without the newspaper. ;)
First attempt:
http://tinyurl.com/sp20txt
With growing hope she grows herself
She can get through
Once
Driving down the road [and you see]
it's part of what it is to be
She wouldn't trade convenience for ___? (fill in the blank yourself!)
Attempt 2:
http://tinyurl.com/sp21txt
Look for things other people might not see
Look for atmosphere-
Look for mystery.
Pose more questions than answers
Advocate
or teach style
Rather, develop [their own] unique styles.
I take that back; these aren't poems, they're more like self-help notes! xD I used my college's newspaper.
I saw him, my heart pounding
stupid, self-destructive, and hurtful...
I exhaled and closed my eyes.
This is the moment, my heart thudding again
I saw his face again...
I desperately wanted to forget it.
I heard a voice I hadn't heard in years
I guess some things don't change...
He was sure right about that.
@emleOrSomething I liked this muchly...also you freaky jonas genius :P
ridiculous
she began to cry
soldiers sobbing I’m sorry
she described
you were wrong, maybe
regret
a decision
a consequence
a sacrifice
motivated of love
I opened up a document I had on my computer, asked my husband to give me a page, and went to town with paint.
the blood of those great people
drives the years and hours
it was easy
friends
families
waiting for their
names to be called
- LIFE's BIG QUESTIONS
- ATTACK A CHALLENGE
It's a
usual room
in the dark. My
method, it's sort of like
sleep.
It happens.
The mirror.
I see the
mirror.
I look.
Not there.
I'm
dizzy.
I'm dreaming.
Wake up. I already am.
Pounding breath.
My shape
under the covers.
Nothing.
I am not
the mirror.
Jump when I
see me.
Myself?
I can't be
invisible.
Looks kind
of paper
authority. Stop.
Disconnect.
Whatever. Playing
in here now.
Meet
timid
barks.
Accused. Goofing.
Again.
Completely stirring stares. Empty
spills.
Notice.