20 Questions: A Confessional Poetry Challenge

[annaswirls]

aka: Truth or Dare without the Dare

Every day for 20 days, a new question. Write your answer in this thread, truthfully, as a poem (feel free to suck, just suck honestly)

Some of the best poets around have difficulty with confessional type poetry. Some people hate to read it, but when done well, it can be an invitation to readers to see themselves in others. I just finished a poem a day challenge, and am in the midst of Survivor, and while they are both good challenges, I thought something that focused on inspiring the writer to look inward and not try to fit into a set form or trigger would be a welcome change.

These do NOT have to be belly button lint picking poems. The questions do not have to be serious or reflective. Feel free to get ridiculous.

I will post the first question tomorrow am.


Rules:

Anyone who is interested in participating can feel free jump in at any time. It would be cool to challenge yourself to do all 20, but it is by no means required. If you miss a day, no sweat, come back and do it later. Or not.

Anyone who participates can send me a question to use. Just pm it to me and I will post them in the order that they come.

Please feel free to use an alt if you are more comfortable doing so.

Feel free to go off on tangents in your poetry in this thread. Just let the question inspire you to write something.

Feel free. How many times did I say that in this post? Like Jellybeans in a jar.


Confession #1:Inspired by the lame Facebook questionnaires...I saw a poet's responses, and thought, damn, I wish he would write a poem for each of his answers...maybe I can get him to come over and join us


Questions so far:
Premature Question: What about baby poop?
Question 1: Whats the closest thing to you that's red?
Question #2: Given the chance to go back again, would you still kiss the first person you kissed?
QUESTION #3: Have you ever prayed?
Question #4: When was the first* time you saw your mother** cry?
Question #5: Where was your face before you washed it this morning?
Question #6 Explain the circumstances surrounding the last time you genuinely laughed at yourself.
Question #7: Do you believe in ghosts*?
Question #8: What makes you look twice at another person?
Question #9: Who* was hanging on your wall as a child**?
Question #10 I wanna know: "Have you ever seen the rain comin' down on a summer day?"
Question #11: How was it the first time you were naked in front of others outside your immediate family?
Question #12: Have you ever won a prize based purely on chance?
Question #13: Is a dozen usually enough?
Question #14: If you could rename yourself, what possible names would you choose?
Question #15: What color is your crayon?
Question #17: Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near?
Why do stars fall out of the sky, every time you walk by?
Why do fools fall in love?
Question #18 Tell me, why did you lie?
Question #16: What happened to 16?
Question #19: If you could have dinner with any 1-3 people (living or not) who would you invite?
Question #20:What is your worst fear? Phobia? Nighmare?What would be in your Room 101?

[Angeline]

Originally Posted by annaswirls

aka: Truth or Dare without the Dare

Every day for 20 days, a new question. Write your answer in this thread, truthfully, as a poem (feel free to suck, just suck honestly)

Some of the best poets around have difficulty with confessional type poetry. Some people hate to read it, but when done well, it can be an invitation to readers to see themselves in others. I just finished a poem a day challenge, and am in the midst of Survivor, and while they are both good challenges, I thought something that focused on inspiring the writer to look inward and not try to fit into a set form or trigger would be a welcome change.

These do NOT have to be belly button lint picking poems. The questions do not have to be serious or reflective. Feel free to get ridiculous.

I will post the first question tomorrow am.


Rules:

Anyone who is interested in participating can feel free jump in at any time. It would be cool to challenge yourself to do all 20, but it is by no means required. If you miss a day, no sweat, come back and do it later. Or not.

Anyone who participates can send me a question to use. Just pm it to me and I will post them in the order that they come.

Please feel free to use an alt if you are more comfortable doing so.

Feel free to go off on tangents in your poetry in this thread. Just let the question inspire you to write something.

Feel free. How many times did I say that in this post? Like Jellybeans in a jar.


Confession #1:Inspired by the lame Facebook questionnaires...I saw a poet's responses, and thought, damn, I wish he would write a poem for each of his answers...maybe I can get him to come over and join us

If we're thinking of the same poet on Facebook, I'd be willing to bug him, too.

[annaswirls]

Originally Posted by Angeline

If we're thinking of the same poet on Facebook, I'd be willing to bug him, too.

Good girl. Perhaps the first question should be: What does your babies poop tell you about life?

[Angeline]

Originally Posted by annaswirls

Good girl. Perhaps the first question should be: What does your babies poop tell you about life?

I'll email him tonight. And I got an idea for that first one amazingly fast. But I have to go make dinner first. You always have the best challenge ideas.

[Tzara]

Originally Posted by annaswirls

Good girl. Perhaps the first question should be: What does your babies poop tell you about life?

That question would necessarily leave out those of us without children, y'know.

I 'spose I could make things up, but that wouldn't be confessional, now, would it?

[Angeline]

Everything is sacred
that comes from my babies
is a notion sorely tested
by diapers, leaky and stinky
in the middle of the mall,
in the middle of two wipes
left I learn that Murphy's law
is real. But that's ok.
I can love a smelly baby
even when it's so bad
that other mommies look at us
and speak in the fractured code
of weary women everywhere:
"Poop. Bad day."

You used to glare at me
as I changed those awful diapers,
wiped the tender bottoms
clean, smeared the Desitin,
powdered my angels
to a pink dusty promise
of evercare, forever mine,
and tell me that life
"is a shit sandwich."

I loved every pungent moment
of those distant years,
but I couldn't love that,
and you couldn't
understand why.

[champagne1982]

Originally Posted by Tzara

That question would necessarily leave out those of us without children, y'know.

I 'spose I could make things up, but that wouldn't be confessional, now, would it?

Plus it implies more than one baby pooping.


Could I call them mine though each umbilicus
be saved by another? Their curdy produce
filling tiny diapers until the day cow's milk
passes ribbon pink bows and fattens cheeks
already wholesome with mother's sweet
kisses. Precious poops to fill diapers
tossed away even as the child learns to toddle.

[The_Fool]

Tasked by a willful mother
with an imperfect body,
still he fills a hole
I'd found dug in my life
with peace.
Even though
evenings graced by his presence
are sometimes scented,
good to know that he finds
comfort and peace enough
to relax,
do his business.
Painful though it is,
a requirement of life.
No problem doing the paperwork.
Sending him home,
that one dreaded task complete,
a sense of satisfaction
tinted by sorrow.

[annaswirls]

oh my eager little beavers!!! I was kidding about the baby poop! You are all too good to be true.

You can count baby poo as #1 (no comment)
OR you can do this one as #1 (or you can do both and skip a later one.

REAL first question:

QUESTION #1 Whats the closest thing to you that's red?

(okay you can lie about this one, I mean, some of you can, those who live together, ee/Ange; Charly/Lauren are at a disadvantage here. You can do what is the closest thing to you that is red and interesting enough to write a poem about )

[annaswirls]

Originally Posted by Tzara

That question would necessarily leave out those of us without children, y'know.

I 'spose I could make things up, but that wouldn't be confessional, now, would it?

oh goodness, it was not really the first question. Now shush and find something red.

ps before I eat you in the elevator, I will let you change Harrison's diaper so you can experience it first hand before being swallowed whole

[annaswirls]

this is wonderful

Originally Posted by The_Fool

Tasked by a willful mother
with an imperfect body,
still he fills a hole
I'd found dug in my life
with peace.
Even though
evenings graced by his presence
are sometimes scented,
good to know that he finds
comfort and peace enough
to relax,
do his business.
Painful though it is,
a requirement of life.
No problem doing the paperwork.
Sending him home,
that one dreaded task complete,
a sense of satisfaction
tinted by sorrow.

[annaswirls]

ew! let's stick to public breastfeeding!

Originally Posted by champagne1982

Plus it implies more than one baby pooping.


Could I call them mine though each umbilicus
be saved by another? Their curdy produce
filling tiny diapers until the day cow's milk
passes ribbon pink bows and fattens cheeks
already wholesome with mother's sweet
kisses. Precious poops to fill diapers
tossed away even as the child learns to toddle.

[annaswirls]

you just made me cry a little

Originally Posted by Angeline

I loved every pungent moment
of those distant years,
but I couldn't love that,
and you couldn't
understand why.

[annaswirls]

"Service Above Self"
on my desk: the Rotary's motto
in bold, red letters.

Still I cannot help but remember
her words:
make sure your mask is secure
before helping your child

She stood by me and repeated these
instructions. Three children?
make sure you can breathe first.

[Angeline]

Originally Posted by annaswirls

you just made me cry a little

Thank you. You touched something in me when you suggested the topic; it just was waiting to come out. Every baby poop can inspire when the time is right, I guess.

And on another note, that av is hysterical and Harrison is beautiful. He looks like a little Christopher Robin in that pic.

[Tzara]

Nevermind.

[Angeline]

Strawberry Lemonade

Strawberries macerated
in the tall glass at my elbow.
They pink the water and ice,
a squeeze of lemon and presto:
a taste of summer even
though May here feels like March
anywhere else. I do a lot
of pretending these days,
trees are greener
than they are, really. Days
are shorter but years
are way too fast, even
in my imagination.

[denis hale]

ha! I found da place



COME UPPANCE

Once upon a time I used bedroom eyes,
long lashes and rose-colored contacts, for effect
--while my warm hand might part a barmaid's thighs,
I used Time in her bed, made a roomful of eyes.
Ego is Time's keyhole, transmitting voyeurs' sighs.
Years go by, eyes betray. Maids arrive, to collect:
"There's a price to pay," they say, "for bedroom lies."
Oh, their insistent lashes, --long, rosy contact. Affect.

[tungtied2u]

Originally Posted by annaswirls

Good girl. Perhaps the first question should be: What does your babies poop tell you about life?

She was just over one,
on a Christmas trip
home to America, to see family
the first time
for the new addition

She was walking
before we left,
but crawling
by the time we arrived,
unsettled

she wouldn't eat
except for the egg roll at the mall
and poop,
i would have paid to see some

instead, i stood, holding her little bottom
encouraging her as she strained
and tears streamed from both our eyes
hers from exertion,
mine from heartache

as she pushed white granite pebbles
from within her tiny frame,
each one agony, and hard fought

i prayed for a return
to the days of savory mustard paste
spread like an overzealous baseball fan
on a warm summer's day

[Liar]

Originally Posted by annaswirls

REAL first question:

Whats the closest thing to you that's red?

What can be closer
than the tangy taste of iron
after twenty flights of stairs?

A heat that bursts from behind
eyes, that fills a desperate purpose
when unexpected lips edge closer
and whisper tales of a night to come.

A silent dread that flows from the cleanest
of cuts and drips astonished from elbow
to white tiles, before steel clatters, blade
against kitchen sink, and I spin
from site to side, scan for salvation,
tissues, faucet.

How can anything be closer to my heart,
than being inside?

[annaswirls]

Ange, Dennis, ttu, Liar, you totally rock (yes, I got that line off a Hallmark commercial)

[annaswirls]

Question #2: Given the chance to go back again, would you still kiss the first person you kissed?

[annaswirls]

Originally Posted by Tzara

Nevermind.

hey, get back here, there is strawberry lemonade and everything!

[WickedEve]

Originally Posted by annaswirls

first question:

Whats the closest thing to you that's red?

Not so much this shot glass
of blood in my eye but sun's
tattooed tentacles,
sprawling over breast, like a peacock
for pale areola.

[WickedEve]

Originally Posted by annaswirls

Question #2: Given the chance to go back again, would you still kiss the first person you kissed?

They walked Daytona sand,
with Papa behind
every beach umbrella, in waves
around their feet, hidden in pails
and shoveled castles.
The kiss

happened in mid step and she never missed
a step -- onward girl,
with summer moth on her lips.
He planted moths

on the mouth of a flame,
flickering. Then she burned
her way home, with seashell-
shocked Papa
and moist wings on her skin.