The good folks at The Poetry Collaborative invited me to participate in a poetry prompt. The exercise uses American Sentences written by people in the collaborative. An American Sentence is a poetic form created by Allen Ginsberg. Basically, American Sentences are limited to seventeen syllables.
Our exercise was to take the American Sentences and arrange them in a cento. Again, I’m being basic, but a cento is a poem which is composed entirely of lines used from another author (or authors) and arranged in a specific pattern.
My poem is not a cento at all. I was inspired by the beautiful sentences I saw over at the collaborative, and I just stole words.
That’s the beauty of The Poetry Collaborative. There are no rigid rules. It is meant to be a catalyst for creativity. I would like to do a cento with these sentences eventually, but for now, I have a working draft of a new poem. Please check them out. And play along!
If you go to their home page, you can see the American Sentences which were written for the prompt. Go to this link to see the original idea:
http://thepoetrycollaborative.org/2008/09/06/writing-prompt-the-cento/
I’ve been having a lot of fun looking at what they have done at the collaborative. There is excellent work going on over there. Be sure to tell them just how awesome they are.
Here’s my draft. It’s a love poem for my Mr. Gator. Come to think of it, a gator is a good metaphor for me. A female gator ferociously protects her young. Has a thick hide. Loves the swamp. Might attack if hungry. Otherwise, she’ll just stare at you and wonder why you’re in her woods. Has a big mouth. Yep. That’s me.
Intentions
Alligators have them.
Silent, surfacing slow
searching for dens
in winter, forgetting
water, food, breath.
.
I have them, too.
Salt-blue, suspended,
closing the lenses,
waiting for winter
to take me down
low, shifting
black water trails,
.
between sweet
cypress knees,
creaking pine, sky
split open, red,
where you and I
will dig deep
.
then sink soft
into a muddy bed
of bubbled swamp,
past sleeping snakes,
through dark roots,
one half-moment
of slow beats,
so warm, gone.
This plays out for me like watching a movie. Imagine doing that with intentions!
“a muddy bed of bubbled swamp, past sleeping snakes”…
Hi, Nan. How’s it going? Thanks much for dropping by. I appreciate it much.
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P.S. to Nan. I was reading your work at “Word Catalyst.” Wonderful story! And your article made me laugh. Our good friend, Bob, is also over there with some excellent work. I just wanted to let you know it’s getting readership. Of course, I came late to the game, so I’m sure it was already getting tons of reads. Thanks again. -Julie
I love the way you manipulate vowel sounds especially in the third and fourth stanzas. This as another great piece of art Julie.
Nathan’s part of the collaborative as September’s guest writer. Everyone check him out. Wonderful work. Thanks, dude.
” … between/sweet cypress knees”
How do you DO this! It’s duenda.
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Hey, Hysperia! I was just thinking about you. I hope you’re having a fun trip to that awesome place. Placenta! That still cracks me up. I’ll be there with you in spirit. Thanks so much. It’s great to see you. -Julie
the third and fourth stanzas are sublime, a muddy bed of bubbled swamp is just gorgeous, the language is alive. And the ending is incredible. You do such good work over here, Julie, I always leave smiling………as for the alligator metaphor *wink*, I’m a bit that way too…..
Hey, Jo! Us alligator women gotta stick together…ha! It’s nice to see you, too, especially since you’re busy with projects right now. That means a lot. And, as always, your comments are so nice.
Jo is also part of the collaborative, so everybody be sure to check her work out. Excellent work & very powerful. I wasn’t kidding when I said I have been enjoying the reads.
Oh we do, we do. I came back here to say a big thank you to you actually…..you always leave the most wonderful comments on my stuff that leave me smiling like a crazy woman, a crazy alligator woman with lots of teeth: thanks *toothy smile*.
J
The slant rhymes are wonderful in this poem– you make the words your own. I’ve been in cypress swamps many times, the wetlands, and there’s something primal about them that you capture in your poem. I’m so glad you wrote with us!
Jo, you always make me laugh. Thanks again. Your work is awesome, so it’s easy to leave comments.
Hi, Christine. Another collaborative writer who does beautiful work. Thanks for dropping in.
I’ve been gushing again…all week long…ha! You guys have inspired other people, too. I won’t say their names here, because they might not want me to. But I saw a poem earlier today that knocked the breath out of me. It was done out of inspiration received from your site. What good work you all do.
Julie, Julie, you are such a master of your craft…I almost misspelled master and said mater…hehe…you are such a mater of your craft…mmm…a homegrown mater with salt or on a sandwich with Miracle Whip!!
ANYway, I was so happy to see cypress knees in your poem!
I have some pics of a swamp next to my aunt and uncle’s house in Louisiana. They have gators that walk around in their yard! This poem is oozing with that imagery.
The surfacing slow at the beginning, then the sinking soft at the end…wow. This poem is all inside me now.
Yes, the sounds in this rock my world…rock, uh. (I’m such a dork)…the assonance most especially.
Ha! Ha! I ate a plateful of maters from the garden not even an hour ago. So I love that term. I’m a mater gator! Taters ain’t bad, either.
My relatives with gators have always influenced me, too. Huge ones that walk around the yard. They’re really misunderstood creatures, aren’t they? The ones I’ve known were actually rather mellow.
Thanks, Holly. You always brighten my day. -Mater:)
That’s awesome…yeah…I like maters so much, and yes, taters cut into slivers fried in a pan with olive oil, onions and rosemary…dipped in ketchup and hot sauce…Rooster (or cock) sauce to be exact…my favorite!!! hehe.
It’s gonna take me a long time to think of an alligator as “mellow”. I’d like to see that, alligators walking around in the backyard. From a distance!
Holly, you sound like a good cook. I’m coming over to your house for supper:)
And…HA! HA! hysperia, ain’t I weird? Not many people would say a gator is mellow. But I had a relative who really treated them like her babies. Humongous ones would come sleep on her front porch. But I agree with you…I never approached them.
Sometimes truth is even more amazing than fiction. Look at this link I found about an old lady in Florida named Aunt Aggie!
http://museumofdust.blogspot.com/2008/01/inky-sprung-aunt-aggies-bone-garden.html
I had no idea! What an interesting person. She was a slave originally. Now I need to write a poem about her. The boneyard garden! That blew me away. I wish I could have known her.
P.S. – I don’t know who Inky is…or what they’re talking about. I was just fascinated with Aunt Aggie. Now I’ll have to see what the debate is.
And I should say thanks for dropping in. I love how we get off on conversations in the comments section!!
love the images in this!
Thanks, Scot. It’s good to see you. I hope your school year is going well.
Julie, I can feel myself sinking in that last stanza, through the mud, past the roots –past everything as known — amazing images —
barbara
Hi, Barbara! Thank you very much. Yes, I am sort of weird, because I love mud. And very hot humid days. Sort of like the alligator…ha! Thanks again. It’s great to see you.
Aligators, you, snakes and roots. Very nice, warm and gone.
Hi, David. So good to see you. Thanks much.