by Nathan Moore
Take a look at this image. What are your first thoughts? Do you wonder about the cultural or historical significance of what is happening? Why is this crowd gathered? Is this a festival? What are they celebrating?
Do you immediately think about the image in symbolic terms? Do you start to think of what the figure balancing a flaming star might represent in terms of art, spirituality or passion?
Does your mind instantly go to the formal aspects of the image? Do you linger on the color the flames reflect on the figure’s body? The stark contrast of fire against a night sky?
Street performers are fascinating. They shine an intense light on the boundary between crowd and performer. In a way, they take our own daily performances as members of the crowd and exaggerate them, make them strange. In a similar way, festivals — at their best — turn our daily lives upside down through an estrangement of our “normal” world.
However you choose to find your way into this image, write about what you envision. I look forward to reading what you’ve come up with next week.
NYE on Paseo Reforma -- Street Performer by bradleyolin
(Note: If you include this photo in your post along with your poem, make sure you credit the artist.)
Nathan Moore is community director and a columnist for Read Write Poem. In his spare time, he plays with his children and with fire. Never at the same time. He blogs at Exhaust Fumes and French Fries.
Cool pic Nathan dude… bradleyolin’s the man! Writing to this will be an ethereal rush. I’m possibly feeling a SciFi (SyFy for the TV fans) free verse coming on. Perhaps something preternatural – or maybe gothic macabre… there might be zombies, or ritual trances, or… what fun!
Oh, thank you for this one. Had me writing in my sleep.
The prompt has special significance for me. Having lived in an alternate life style area in northern NSW for many years this picture was a fairly common sight.Mine also came to me in my
sleep so I got up and dashed it down before I forgot.
I wrote a giant to-do list in my sleep, but it was in no way a poem.
Barbara_Y replied:
August 29th, 2009 at 6:07 pm
Did most of a Nanowrimo novel that way one year. Disturbing, how little made it to a keyboard.
Rallentanda replied:
August 30th, 2009 at 4:39 am
Just looked at this poem. It is a list but I’m submitting it as a poem.How could you know this?
Here is what I saw within the photo.
star of David</a
love-bhd-beloved49
Melanie Bishop
Sorry, I will try angin.
my poem
love-Melanie-b49
This totally looks like a scene from the monthly Last Thursday festivities in NE Portland – your timing is impeccable, even from Ohio. Can’t wait to write toward it.
Only a few people who respond to the prompts have visited me. This is my third post and I am posting early so I am hoping more of you will visit me. Thank you everyone.
My poem for prompt #90 is Firing up Buskerfest
Once, we were tourists, and very young
We’ve found a carnival! The street blossoms with colored lights!
And filled with people – Is this street always filled with people?
A few moments ago we ran into a shop to escape the rain
The raindrops were so heavy it was like standing beneath a
Waterfall
Now everyone is outside again – we splash through puddles
Of green, red, amber,
See, the sky is clearing. The clouds gather to say good-by behind
The volcano See, in the east a few stars are shining dimly
Through the haze of the city.
Three musicians stand on the roof of a car. There is a horn
A guitar and an accordian
As they play, the colors rise and fall to the beats of the music
Now there is a great cheering! We try to see what is going on
But all we see are cascades of dancing colors
Quick! Look! We clap our hands
It is the magnificent fire eater,
rising over the heads of the people
Savoring his marvelous flame!
How he dances with the brightness
Flaring out just ahead of him
Will he really swallow it? He opens his mouth and
Tongues of fire dance away. The music plays louder
But not as loud as the cheers of the people
Does he dance across an invisible wire
Strung from building to building?
Does he ride a unicycle or a dragon?
Are we the victims of a grand illusion –
Or have we had too much to drink?
All night long, we see the air dancing with magic colors.
In the morning we awaken to the sound of the
Street-sweepers singing mournful love songs
To the sun.
I hope this is the right place to submit poems for us blogless ones.