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PROMPTuesday #56: Touched by An Angel

May 18th, 2009

The below song was inspired by a poem that Stevie Nicks wrote about an…

 

…Well, I’m not going to tell you yet. I don’t want to put premptive ideas in your head.

 

I don’t know about you, but I love imagining a writer at work. Often I picture a silent back bent over paper or a keyboard and white birds overhead and light halos and fingertip fires. I think about that when I listen to this song and see Stevie Nicks at a piano in a room full of angel muses.

 

SO to bring the creativity loop full circle, I’m now asking you to listen to the song that was begun by a poem and write your own poem inspired by the song. (Got that?)

 

This exercise is a bit of a double entendre if you believe that creativity comes from the divine.

 

Which, I believe it does. (How you define divine is entirely up to you.)

 


 

First time to PROMPTuesday? Welcome! Read a bit about this weekly writing exercise here.

Want to see what’s been written in the past? Catch up on the PROMPTuesdays archive here.

 

« « Snippets of Light    |    Peanut Head » »

On May 18th, 2009, kate said:

poems are hard. but i will write a poem. inspired by the song. because i’m nice like that. and you? make me a better writer.

On May 18th, 2009, kate said:

but i’m not good at understanding poetry. like, what if i totally miss the point? oy.

On May 19th, 2009, DaGoddess.com » PROMPTuesday #56 - Angel of my Dreams said:

[…] Deb chose one Stevie Nicks angel tune, I immediately thought of another, from the Tusk album, simply called […]

On May 19th, 2009, Da Goddess said:

I broke the rules, I think. Okay, I know I did. But I went all stream of consciousness with it, so it’s still Stevie and still in poem form. That’s cool, right?

On May 19th, 2009, kate said:

here’s my lame-ish attempt. it was pretty fun.

http://katydidnot.blogspot.com/2009/05/but-then-it-sounds-stilted-and-dotty.html

On May 19th, 2009, San Diego Momma said:

Call to me a gut-filled chortle

not light, no billows

 

Swallow sobs with dark sponge

not geyser nor prism

 

There’s drawn faces, two lies

not choices, no dice

 

Peck and dry, invert its pockets

to receive not buffet nor plume

 

So grey night abides

all starboard and aft

On May 19th, 2009, Da Goddess said:

Wow, Deb. Just…WOW!

The imagery alone is fantastic. Goosebumpy stuff.

On May 20th, 2009, slouching mom said:

Deb: Your poem is beautiful.

Here’s mine:

The Only Secret

the truck driver
who calls his wife
every night
just before seven.

he knows.

the girl who waited
by the swings for a turn
that never came,
who buries her face
in her mother’s lap
and wishes she could
be there forever.

she knows.

and the gentleman
out on a walk
with his collie
who gasps as the dog
runs out into traffic,
who hears the thud and runs
headlong into the street,
who strokes the dying pet —
whose tears consecrate her
as she leaves him.

he knows, too.

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