Try writing a Song Title Poem
It’s December, and we all have miles to go before our long winter’s nap. I know poetry is intimidating enough when we have most of our wits about us, but during the hustle and bustle this time of year, perhaps poetry feels more like a red and green pine-scented monster screaming, “UNDERSTAND ME!!!!”
So how about something (hopefully) easy and fun to start off the month? I’m sure you’ve heard of fridge magnet poetry, and spine poetry is popular as well. How about song title poetry? It could be that I made it up, but nevertheless, here’s what you do:
How to Write Song Title Poetry
1. Grab a pack of Post-it notes and a Sharpie and pull up one of your playlists. I used my running playlist.
2. Jot down 10-12 song titles (or as many as you like) — one song per sticky note.
3. Next, spread out the titles and see what kind of poem might emerge.
Here are the songs I wrote down:
Here’s the poem I came up with:
Dear Society,
Oops! I did it again.
I am a troublemaker,
but don’t stop
looking at me.
Watch
how far I’ll go.
So let’s get loud,
because these are the best days
to become
familiar;
to go crazy,
and grow
closer to fine.
Love,
Dancing Queen
It’s a tad self-centered, but today is my birthday, so I’m Walt Whitman-ing it up and singing a song of myself.
Try It
This week create a Song Title Poem.
Featured Poem
Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s poetry prompt. Here’s one from Stacy Bronec we enjoyed.
The sky is black, with no sign of the sun on the horizon.
The wind is calm.
Coffee, hot.
My words feel stuck as my pencil hovers over the page.
But then, the furnace kicks on,
reminding me of the blessing of a warm home.
My toes wiggle
inside well-worn slippers.
My glasses slide down the bridge of my nose, the only way I can see.
My planner to my left is full of holiday to-dos.
Make pies.
Clean guest room.
Wash sheets.
No school.
Soon, the sun will rise, a promise of a new day.
The house will be filled with grumbles from the kids,
“Why do we have to get up so early?”
And clanging of spoons in bowls.
Some days, I feel annoyed at their loudness, the way they wake.
But then, the small note on my planner:
Send tree.
Send tree to a friend whose son didn’t wake last week.
A tree to plant in the dark, cool earth. The ground to be split open, like my friend’s heart.
A tree to grow tall and wide, to remind him of his son.
As if he could ever forget.
I pull back the curtain,
looking for any light on the edge of the horizon.
For some, the sun won’t rise.
A door creaks open,
the spell of a quiet house, broken.
The sun has risen at my home.
I release the breath
I didn’t know I was holding
—Stacy Bronec
Photo by Nenad Stojkovic Creative Commons via Flickr. Post by Callie Feyen.
I have been a fan of Callie Feyen’s writing for quite some time but I finished this book in almost one sitting. If you have ever been in 8th grade, fallen in love, had a best friend, or loved reading, you will love this book. As the mother of an 8th grader, my other genuine hope is that my son will one day have a teacher as gifted as Callie.
—Celena Roldan
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Bethany R. says
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CALLIE! I appreciate how you continuously generate these prompts for the Tweetspeak Poetry community and what you artfully share.
To the Dancing Queen!
Megan Willome says
I second that! Dance on, Dancing Queen!
My playlist was all instrumental, from Ola Gjeilo, one of Spotify’s Composer Weekly entries. I do have a photo of all my blue Post-its with penciled titles.
Morning, Lake Isle
sunrise is its own mass
the crossing between zones – perhaps
days of beauty, perhaps
a day as hard as the ground
tundra turned sienna as its sacred origins
dawn does not bequeath serenity
but eastern lights point to linnet’s wings
I am not the woman I was –
some second Eve
arranging stone roses
around the deep heart’s core
Crystal Rowe says
I love this and want to do it again and again!
Save your tears
Courage
(will) never break
Cover me in sunshine
(with) imaginary tea
(or) coffee in bed
Never forget
home
Memories
(will) roar
(with) a little space
(being) happy for you
(is) easy on me
Everything has changed
(but) never one thing
(we’re still) making love out of nothing at all