See Something New

Love is a Camera, Full of Memories

Our (optional) prompt for today is one that we have used in past years, but which I love to come back to, because it so often takes me to new and unusual places, and results in fantastic poems. It’s called the “Twenty Little Poetry Projects,” and was originally developed by Jim Simmerman. The challenge is to use/do all of the following in the same poem. Of course, if you can’t fit all twenty projects into your poem, or a few of them get your poem going, that is just fine too!

Begin the poem with a metaphor.
Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
Use one example of synesthesia (mixing the senses).
Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.
Use an example of false cause-effect logic.
Use a piece of talk you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).
Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . .”
Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
Make the persona or character in the poem do something he or she could not do in “real life.”
Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.
Use a phrase from a language other than English.
Make a non-human object say or do something human (personification).
Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that “echoes” an image from earlier in the poem.

Love is a camera, full of memories,
a spiritual nomad, a free-spirit,
yet he caught her amber eye;
a die-hard Christian, by the books,
yet her free-spirit and lovely voice,
caught his eyes and ears.

They met on an evening in April
on Forest and Main,
love is a journey
as he swooned a ballad,
strummed his guitar,
smiling for her,
the shutter shooting rapid fire.
Between the lens and her eyes,
her heart pounded,
and her soul sang out,
between rock melodies
and loving hugs,
she will cherish their photos forever.

Love is a battlefield,
when he made fun of her,
on the evening in November,
in Forest and Main;
made fun of her Ravens,
and the Charm City, where her heart belongs,
he waves his Terrible Towel;
but she can't kvetch.
At least he's talking sports,
as sports can't drive a wedge
like debating religions
and the path to God,
but music can bring us together.

"I'm a Yinzer from Pixburgh,
but the goal is to see every stadium.
Baltimore is full of jagoffs,
I mean all they do is wear purple
and cheer for birds!"
He looked in her direction,
both laughing, she blushes.
Yet, autumn swoonings
with colourful leaves falling,
and longer evenings
like wind from Halcyon Days,
the calm before the storm.

Jessychan should not have brought up religion,
should not have brought our her depressive side,
love falls through her hands like quicksand,
yet love conquers all!
Cest la Vie,
his guitar rattles, shakes, and weeps,
but he continues to swoon
over ballads and serenades-
much like the memories in my camera
and the scrapbooks and Happiness Boxes.