by the Read Write Poem Staff
Today is Day 13, also known as your lucky day. Sarah J. Sloat has a wonderful prompt for you; it’s bound to get you going! She says:
I’m partial to the tried-and-true prompt that calls for starting a poem with a line written by another poet. For this go-round, it would be interesting to see what poets can launch using a line from Norman Dubie.
In his poems, Norman Dubie tells stories, sets scenes and paints landscape, sometimes lush and sometimes wretched. His writing is sure and vivid, and his language is beautiful. As you’ll see below, his similes are incomparable. If forced to compare him with anyone, I’d be more likely to pick a painter than another writer.
For this prompt, take a Dubie line to jumpstart a poem of your own. Your poem should be titled “Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie.”
I offer a menu of possible first lines below:
- The lights of the galaxies are strung out over a dipper of gin.
- His chapel fell into flowers long ago.
- A kiss is like a dress falling off a tall building.
- Two houseflies are like two fiddles drying.
- My favorite pastime has become the imaginary destruction of flowers.
- In triplicate, he’s sent an application, listing grievances, to the stars.
- You wondered about skin wrinkled by looking at jewels.
- Her breasts filled the windows like a mouth.
- In the near field an idle, stylish horse raised one leg.
- Worlds are being told like beads.
- The pearl slapdash of the moon is on the water.
Be sure to use the title suggested and credit Norman Dubie in your post! 
Reminders for everyone
Read the Read Write Poem NaPoWriMo Challenge Kickoff post for details on how the challenge works — and how you can engage with Read Write Poem this month, no matter what your personal writing challenge is for the month of April.
Please read this page to find out how Read Write Poem’s prompt posts work. Remember that work linked from any post this month is shared in precisely that spirit: sharing, as opposed to critiquing. If you haven’t done so already, please read all the pages under About in the navigation bar.
I LOVED this prompt. My poem is at:
http://richelledodaro.blogspot.com
A very short poem, entitled ‘Shortest day’.
Make a short visit to http://www.gregoconnell.com.
http://poetry-life-distilled.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-day-13.html
A Dubieism: http://thekitchenbitchponders.blogspot.com/2010/04/national-poetry-writing-month-day_13.html
This was much more difficult than I thought it would be. Thanks for the prompt Susan!
http://flaubert-poetrywithme.blogspot.com/2010/04/poem-starting-with-line-from-norman.html
My poem, The Poetry Workshop, can be read at musetomyeyes.blogspot.com. Inspired or not inspired? That is the question…
Sorry Sarah! I must have Susan on my mind!
This was the most fun to write prompt so far
used “His chapel fell into flowers long ago”
http://novaheart.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/poem-41310-poem-starting-with-a-line-from-norman-dubie/
ahhh the writers quill poem starting with a line from norman dubie
Just an image starting with a line from Norman Dubie: http://jasonriedy.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/napowrimo-13/
Definitely need a second wind…
I enjoyed writing to this prompt. Here’s my poem for day #13. I used Dubie’s line as my first line: “The pearl slapdash of the moon is on the water”
Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie
Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie
‘Worlds are being told like beads’ at 7 am
in the cafe past cathedral rosaries. “The hours
I have in Amsterdam are three,” she dropped
her baggage. “I’ve always heard about your cafes.”
The barrista was reaching under the shoulder-
high counter top and produced a storybook portfolio
of cannibus diversity training. “Homegrown as tulips!”
he was explaining. “Do you want to be stoned or do you
want to be bright?” Incandescent! she didn’t hesitate,
standing within sight of a young man-say thirty-three
who was mellow with espresso and his trip to Nepal.
His wine and saffron patagonia fleece was soft
as the temples beside his eyes and his young man’s beard.
She was old as Mount Kenya; she’d seen rain turn to tears.
“What do you want in the world?” his arms unfurled;
She wanted to be twenty again and wrapped up in him.
“We accept reality, my teacher was telling me how to dream,
then on Katmandu, now here looking at you:
you’re catching a plane, I’m catching a train.
Pass the–will you–won’t you pass the cream?”
Ancient silent conversation that is rarely humanly real
we spoke and smoked the doobie til
it was time for me to catch my plane and time
for him to catch his train.
Wonderful prompt. I’m writing to it now. My efforts for napowrimo: http:\\poetrybymarisa.blogspot.com
I used Worlds are being told like beads.
http://ingeborgsblog.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-april-13th-smoke-dubie.html
In the spirit of “brevity is the soul of wit”, a second tanka, subtitled “Apathy”:
http://caraholman.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/2010-napowrimo-13-poem-2/
My best for today, called, you guessed it!
“Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie.”
In the near field an idle, stylish horse raised one leg
while leaf edges filter the dusk light
from new blossoms folded back against the gloom.
Quiet seeps in like ocean fog
so still the man could hear his waxy work-a-day boots
flex into the brown packed path as he steps.
He rests before opening the darkened door,
storm cracked by a hundred Vermont winters
his forehead furrowed like the old paint, and wonders,
How long before nightfall?
Also at http://1965footprints.blogspot.com
http://sadiespoems.blogspot.com/2010/04/poem-starting-with-line-from-norman.html
I started with “We drank our lemondade in silence”, which is a line from “Homage to Philip K. Dick.”
http://goo.gl/fb/Mp8A4
http://marcieaf.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-day-13.html
Great prompt – it made me stretch in a new way.
http://everythingfeedsprocess.com/2010/04/13/napowrimo-13-poem-starting-with-a-line-from-norman-dubie/
Hmm, mine ended up more of a memory than a poem, so the title didn’t quite work out for me. Still, I tried to incorporate a variation.
http://www.shicho.net/words/?p=1072
Poem beginning with a line from Norman Dubie
His chapel fell into flowers long ago
He was a young man when the land was new.
Wherever the maidens stepped the land burst into
Bloom. He sought the fairest of the fair who
Dreamed beneath a blossomed bower of desire.
He built a chapel for his bride. The flowers
Bloomed from every corner of the room between
The brick walls softening the stone. With little
Else to offer but his strength his love-filled labor
Caressed each bloom – kthe fairest of the fair.
A land of perpetual sunshine, perhaps an hour
Or two of rain to help the burgeoning bloom
Stay constant in its beauty, the virgin bud
Unpeeled, the bloom forever poised, he the
Constant lover, she of the petal-skin and blue
Bell eyes – let this moment hold forever, his
One desire – this pleasure must abide..
She blossomed like the rose and like the flower
Once the bee has come and gone away
Carrying the pollen of his desire,
The petals curl and dry and slip away.
No matter the strength of his caress, or the suspension
Of his breath, the spell was not revoked. Two moons of
Time the rose became a seed-head, filled with next
Seasons’ progeny.
And then there came another blow to face.
Where ever he turned the same spell did take place -
The air grew chill, the flowers fell, the taste
Of honey soured, even the green leaves turned
To shades of gold and before his startled hands
All blew away.
His chapel turned to flowers, where his beauty
Slept. And quietly the gentle snowflakes came
To cover all, the cold that filled his breath–
The tender fled at his approach – Winter was his name.
I struggled with this off and on all day, in between caring for my 6 month old granddaughter!
http://herwordsbloomed.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-13-smoke-dubie.html
Well, not sure how much the first line meshed with the rest of the poem, but I tried.
http://www.cathymcguire.com/poetry.htm
How interesting. Quite a specific prompt, but I got through it~
http://wintermintfruit.blogspot.com/2010/04/poem-starting-with-line-from-norman.html
I did yesterday’s prompt today: Best to Ignore the Wind.
http://disorder1313.wordpress.com/2010/04/14/transliteration-of-catullus-x/
http://www.dansbait.com/?p=228 don’t bother reading.
Poem After a Line from Norman Dubie
Worlds are being told like beads
passing through my fingers
one by one
Mercury, Venus,
Our Father,
Earth, Mars
Holy Mary mother of God
Jupiter, Saturn,
Om
Neptune, Uranus
Merciful father, we confess
Silken sound connecting one to the next
and at the firstlast bead, I salute
the Sun.
Robin replied:
April 13th, 2010 at 8:33 pm
Nicely done! What you wrote really does follow the first line quite well, and I love the things you threw in, like Om, as well as the end.
Marie replied:
April 13th, 2010 at 9:28 pm
Really, really good. Nice way to use beads.
What a wonderful group of lines to choose from!
http://freckledwriter.blogspot.com/2010/04/free.html
I don’t mind using someone’s line, but getting a title forced on me? |: Anyways wew I did the dA prompt today~
http://sky-lined.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-day-13.html
In this prompt, I finally found my light verse muse — times two! Yes, this is what passes for light in my universe. The two lines by Norma Dubie that I chose to use as starting points were:
* In triplicate, he’s sent an application, listing grievances, to the stars.
* The lights of the galaxies are strung out over a dipper of gin.
You can read both poems here.
Matt Blair replied:
April 13th, 2010 at 9:11 pm
Er, that would be Norman Dubie. Norma is my grandmother.
http://rosettathurman.posterous.com/napowrimo-poem-13-poem-starting-with-a-line-f
Loved this prompt. My #13 is here:
http://robin-turner.blogspot.com/2010/04/poem-starting-with-line-from-norman.html
One more for the prompts! Mine was from the first line “The morning’s mail rises up the stairwell” and it is drafty, drafty, drafty!
http://rustbloommansions.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-thirteen-poem-13-poem-starting-with.html
Finally got this written.
The Worry Flower:
http://thegoodtypist.blogspot.com/2010/04/worry-flower-another-poem-day-challenge.html
“Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie.”
A kiss is like a dress falling off a tall building,
Fluttering and shimmering,
Softness and gossamer,
Incongruous and unexpected,
Holding a hint of something beckoning you to follow,
But beware the soft, chiffony caresses,
The tantalizing tease of unzipped desire,
Leading you downward, ever downward,
Spiralling faster, and more out of control,
Remember, it’s not the fall that will kill you…
Tim Keeton – A Writer’s Tale http://ow.ly/1yarB
Tim Keeton
Poet/Wizard/Teller-of-tales
http://www.robertlunday.net/2010/04/poem-13-lake.html
Title’s obvious, obviously.
http://pamelavillars.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/april-13-10-poem-starting-with-a-line-from-norman-dubie/
Loved this prompt!
http://paperdreams-jgc.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-13-my-longest-poem-of-challenge.html
thanks to sarah for the prompt and norman dubie for the idea..here goes
a kiss is like a dress falling off a tall building
butterflies of anxiety fills my insides
standing on my tippy toes
he still has to lean down to reach my lips
soft, supple, the scratch of peach fuzz
like steel wool, his face brushes mine
i am crushed beneath him, ever so light
never before feeling so damsel like
vivien leigh in ‘gone with the wind’
he is my rhett butler
left behind
forever searching and wondering
what if
A very rough draft was all I could manage tonight –
“In Triplicate”
http://theresebroderick.wordpress.com
What a great prompt! I can only hope I did justice to the line I chose in my own Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie.
Wow, day 13 already. Here’s my poem, using the line ‘the lights of the galaxies are strung out over a dipper of gin’
“Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie.”
The lights of the galaxies
Are strung out
Over a dipper of gin
They waver
A hazy mirage of beauty
Oh, how I wish
They would linger
But no
With the morning light
They fade
Drown, in overwhelming
Power
And I too hide
From the suns bright rays
To await the
Evening stars
I took the bait.
http://www.redbubble.com/people/nebsy/writing/4999340-napowrimo-13
http://tinacelio.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/lucky-day-13/
I looked at one of his first lines in a poem called “Ibis”. It spoke of pigeons on the roof. While I didn’t use his lines I did write a poem about pigeons.
http://word-painting.blogspot.com/2010/04/dont-forget-history.html
Fun. I got to write about boobies.
http://cosmicmermaid.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/poem-starting-with-a-line-from-norman-dubie/
I used the following line: “His chapel fell into flowers long ago” Thank you Sarah =)
mmm…insanity is creeping like a trumpet vine…
http://motherveg.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/napowrimo-13-smoke-a-dubie/
April 13 ~ “Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie” ~ http://treasures.edublogs.org/2010/04/13/readwritepoem-april-13/
Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie
NaPoWriMo #13 A light in the mountains
http://eveningpoems.blogspot.com/
Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie (an acrostic)
My favorite pastime has become the imaginary destruction of flowers.
Yardbirds, whose sentences are long but not complex, trample dandelions
Flat while heading to the weight bench and basketball court. Imagine
A poet with bulging muscles, iambic tattoos, and the ability to negotiate
Voracious hunger for language behind bars. How many packs of cigarettes
Offset the need for verbs, nouns, images beyond the reach of such limited
Reality incarcerated. The chorus of another Billy Joel song insinuates itself
Into my mind while I tunnel under the electrified chain-link fence
To emerge, soiled but free on the dark road where David Lynch quietly
Explains the meaning of Bott’s Dots and their relationship to
Painted lines dashing the world into lanes empty except for
All that traffic backed-up behind blockbuster crowds inching forward
Slowly to kiss the ring of this year’s director du jour, who tries
Too earnestly to remember the name of Francis Ford Coppola,
Itinerant vintner, force of celluloid nature and apologist
Meandering through studio paychecks, with glassy
Eyes reflecting the sadness of a nation. My new favorite pastime
Has become the imaginary instruction of humans, verse
Acting like prose just long enough to fool people
Simply tired of TMZ until they will believe anything that rhymes
Because sometimes lines erupt like landmines, ruin
Each garden with predictions of floods and olive branches
Courtesy of every apple that denies your existence, skin
Offering the juices it protects for one chance to ask why
Men blame women for knowledge and then claim
Every woman knows nothing. My new favorite pastime is
The temptation of ignorance, how no one understands
Heliotropes, the way they bloom brightly to
Evoke the anger of the disenfranchised, the silent
Illiterate masses who don’t know the names of things they
Marvel at daily. Suppose language is a crutch
And you have handicapped parking. How will you
Get from here to any conclusion without breaking
Into more bones than Quincy, M.E. can recognize.
No wonder television has abandoned poetry, in favor of
Anything that can be marketed to young viewers
Ready for their close-up even though they don’t know
Youth is wasted on Cecil B. Demille. Although
Death is a dish best served quickly,
Engulfed in flame, soaked with rum to
Simulate a Jimmy Buffet crowd, their fins
Troubling left and right until the sketch artist
Refuses to continue. At which point the Coen Brothers
Usually roll the credits, but sometimes
Creation hiccups and some newly minted film major
Treats the lost premise with far more respect than
It deserves, perhaps because some
Obscure poet deemed it his
New favorite pastime, after which
Only diehard fans continue to watch, even though
Foolhardy words preen on the slopes of Sundance
For the lenses of Entertainment Weekly, Variety and
Life. Still, there is nothing silly as an excuse. You must
Own the failure of each day, even if you don’t know
What to call it. Make this your new favorite pastime
Except when swimming, because breathing is
Required below water’s surface more than anything
Sam Shepherd claims satisfies a rapt audience.
Poem starting with a line from Norman Dubie
My favorite pastime has become the imaginary destruction of flowers.
Tracing back to the righteous fields of myself, before I knew this
there is some fatalist defect in remembering, a defect not defect
but purposed like a broad carrion chink in the soft metal of walking upright for sound
how the looking back spools you into it gutbuckets full until caving in almost
there is something there so passionate I thought to bisect one thing higher than myself
without the abrasion of memory, my favorite pastime has become the imaginary destruction of flowers.
Loved this prompt. Thank you, Sarah.
~~~~~~~
Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie
The lights of the galaxies are strung out over a dipper of gin
Sloshing opulence and scattering planets
Like breadcrumbs
Casually they pretend they don’t see her:
The raven’s eye that never blinks
And where am I to follow when the crack
In the pavement pulls me under
Into the sequined earth,
playing cards with the moon — gin rummy, go fish
I’ve longed for stardust
A bitter end for the queen of spades
Felt the tricky, near-death shudderings
On a breeze complicit
Starfish and flamingos share
This spinning speck with
Dervishes and dust mites
Great whales and fiddlehead ferns
We carry it all
We carry it all
Every scorching sun, every champagne dawn
In every atom
The memory of imperfect perfection.
Skarthen Burg Fair
Angeliad of Surazeus
2010 04 13
http://open.salon.com/blog/surazeus/2010/04/13/skarthen_burg_fair
http://stores.lulu.com/angeliad
Waterfall sparkles gold over silver rocks
singing wordless melody of peaceful joy
then bells ring on post of a rolling wagon
that stops as a horse stamps her hoof.
Little girl peeks from back of wagon tent
and sees river flowing down to a vast sea
that shines purple on globe of our world
so she sighs leaning chin on her soft arm.
I am bored and sore sitting here all day
she mumbles turning a leaf in her hand
while her mother and sisters stay at home
and weave thread for Skarthen Burg Fair.
Strings of a lute ring over cool meadow
so she peers toward sparkling waterfall
and sees sitting in mist on a green stone
a young boy wearing boots and a cape.
He strums a lute and begins to sing
in sweet voice that rises among trees
and swirls with waters of river flow
to enchant her heart with mystic love.
Are you going to Skarthen Burg Fair
with bag of herbs and walnuts and pears
then find sweet girl who bakes apple pies
and tell her that I return to her arms.
Tell her I plan to build her a hearth
with shelf of herbs and walnuts and pears
where she may cook in cauldron of life
then I will snuggle safe in her arms.
Tell her I started to dig her a well
with seeds of herbs and walnuts and pears
that bubbles water from fountain of life
and leads me back home in her arms.
Tell her I finished molding a grail
with plate of herbs and walnuts and pears
so she may drink elixir of life
and welcome me back warm in her arms.
Young boy stops strumming his lute
then hides his face and begins to weep
shoulders shaking as he bends over low
and long blond hair falls covering his face.
Little girl cries out why do you weep now
after singing a sweet enchanting song
about a cute girl waiting for you to return
for you should be happy with eager joy.
Wiping tears from his cheeks with hands
young boy turns away from passing wagon
and tries to forget face of his lost lover
who married a knight on a prancing horse.
Staring from white tent of rolling wagon
little girl watches him disappear in mist
and sighs I wish he sang that sweet tune
for me with devoted heart of pure love.
Wagon lurches to a stop making her fall
so little girl crawls to front of her wagon
and parts curtain to see her old father
slumped over with an arrow in his neck.
Two men wielding bows sit in an oak
laughing and swinging their legs in jest
so little girl leaps from back of her wagon
and runs fast back toward waterfall mist.
Arrow zings quivering near her feet
so she runs forever gasping for breath
staggering as she screams out for help
but falls as rough hands clutch her legs.
Little girl wriggles trying to escape
then looks toward waterfall for help
where boy with lute stands near a tree
so she reaches out her arm and screams.
Boy turns in terror and flees into mist
so little girl screams loud in despair
as rough man grins and binds her arms
and ties rope on her neck to a tree trunk.
Sun sinks blazing as fire and blood
while men ransack wagon her home
then eat food her father had stored
to sell at market to buy nice new cloth.
Faces of men glow orange in firelight
as they eat roasted chicken under stars
joking and laughing and smacking hands
then dancing around as they shout loud.
Shadow of fear leaps from dark gloom
so men freeze and stare at a grim ghost
in fluttering white robe and hawk wings
and hideous face with long sharp teeth.
Thieves howl in terror then turn and flee
stumbling into darkness over tree roots
and run as far away as they can all night
leaving little girl bound to an oak tree.
Demon turns hideous face to stare
at little girl who trembles in stark fear
entranced by silver glow of his eyes
then his face falls away as a wood mask.
Little girl stares astonished to see
young boy who played song on a lute
wearing mask and robe of a fierce devil
now laughing with uncontrolled delight.
Cutting ropes binding her too tight
young boy unmasked kisses her cheek
then she throws arms around his neck
and hugs him tight weeping in pure joy.
I thought you ran away in cowardice
but you returned as a terrible demon
and frightened them away as a ghost
rather than face strong men in a fight.
Little girl kisses him as they relax
and finish meal and drink apple cider
then she weeps over body of her father
while he offers to protect her as guard.
Together they ride wagon along road
through whispering forest of lost souls
to Skarthen Burg Fair by Lake of Light
and they sing together about true love.
Are you going to Skarthen Burg Fair
with bag of herbs and walnuts and pears
then find sweet girl who bakes apple pies
and tell her that I return to her arms.
Poem #13. “Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie (Grandma).”
You wondered about skin
wrinkled by looking at jewels.
You drank glass after glass of whiskey,
chasing it with cheap beer as the night aged.
You telephoned in the middle of the night,
drunk dialing, hoping to speak with your daughter.
You asked me to buy you unfiltered Pall Mall cigarettes,
and bring them to your hospital room.
You peppered me with gifts from mail order catalogs,
trinkets and throwaways of a plastic knick-knack culture.
You declared that they stole my liquor,
but they will never get my smokes! while I nodded in assent.
You sang to me and we wandered the hallways of the cancer ward,
our rectums bleeding, leaving a trail of painted carpet in our wake.
You spoke of your beloved eagles and cardinals
and tiny songbirds as though they were the very angels of heaven.
You laughed a warbled throaty laugh,
wet on wet and then some.
You did nothing other than breathe,
trying so hard to put puffs of air together like puzzle pieces.
I held your hands, the skin soft like baby hands,
warmth slowly dripping out through the drain tube of hours.
Posted at: http://troysworktable.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-13.html
a furry tail
april 13, 2010
biology books
will tell you
she’s related
to the lion,
her mane tamed,
her claws clipped
by domestication,
but curled
there on the couch,
her ribs rising
with steady breath,
one long paw
reaching out
for treasure,
it’s clear
she’s
descended
from dragons.
http://seashelllz.livejournal.com/115452.html
Here is my #13, not the from the prompt:
Paper Mache Monkeys:
http://brokeness.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-13-paper-mache-monkeys.html
A is A
http://self-intoxication.deviantart.com/art/A-is-A-160679957
My poem is here:
http://ragbone.wordpress.com
Off prompt again.
http://triatriatria.wordpress.com/?p=151
Oops, late…
Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie: At Least Pretty For a While
http://bitsandpieces.wordpress.com/2010/04/14/napowrimo-13-smoke-a-dubie/
here’s mine. Thanks for the prompt! I’ve discovered a new poet!
Off-prompt, started with an overheard phrase instead:
http://triatriatria.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/mothpath/
Gosh, I have been slacking so much this week: http://kagerrr.tumblr.com/post/521190766/april13thpoem
Norman Dubie line:
From “February: The Boy Breughel”
“Two birds call out from the woods”
The full harvest moon
Descends for the night is finished
It is 5:00 am and the dark silence
Before dawn is brisk
The air smells sweet and clean
Grand Canyon Village still sleeps
On the terrace I listen
To the darkness
An owl hoots,
Bidding all a good night
As the darkness turns into gray
The deer grazing begin to leave
We take the shuttle bus to
Yavapai Point joining the other tourists
The gray of a new day dawns
Changing into violet, then brilliant pinks
To oranges, and to yellows
The light plays on the Canyon
Changing its face
As the seconds stand still
The tourists, and I among them
Watch in silent awe
As the Canyon is awaken by dawn
The hush over the crowd is incredible
Only broken by the sounds
Of the camera’s shutters
Trying to catch the sunrise
As it changes the faces it touches
13
I’ve discovered a new poet as well! Exciting.
http://scriptophobe.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-13-thanks-to-norman-dubie.html
http://tasmith1122.wordpress.com/2010/04/14/rwp-napowrimopoetic-asides-day-13/
missed a bunch, catching up now maybe maybe not ~ early comments are closed, so I’ll piggy back
poem #13 Polyglot Nashup
http://vanessavaile.posterous.com/poem-13-mash-up
with #5 tagging along for the ride
George by any other name
http://vanessavaile.posterous.com/poem-5-george-by-any-other-name
couldn’t resist the beautiful lines…
http://www.delenemartin.com/2010/04/15/poem-starting-with-a-line-from-norman-dubie/