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amalgamationink · 1 year

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rustbeltjessie · 1 year

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Rust Belt Jessie’s NaPoWriMo 2023 Prompts: BONUS ACTIVITY!

make a poetry video

One thing I hate about the Now is the TikTok-ification of everything. It’s like every social media site has ‘reels’ or ‘stories’ or a ‘live’ feature now, and everyone is pressured to upload video content alongside whatever else they’re posting. And the videos have to be short and funny, or short and poignant—but poignant in a clickbait-y, easily digestible/likable/shareable way, not in a poetic way* **

But, paradoxically, one thing I dig about the Now is that most everyone has a camera/audio recorder in their pockets at all times, and those self-same devices can run apps that act as mini film studios.

I used to want to be a filmmaker. I’ve always written (poetry, and other stuff), but once upon, I thought I was gonna be the next Jim Jarmusch. I even studied film, briefly, at the start of my college career.*** But my life changed and my plans changed, and I didn’t continue with it.

Then, in late 2019, FIVE:2:ONE magazine accepted three of my poems—and asked me to make either an audio recording or a video to go along with them. I’d already done a lot of spoken word audio—and that’s something I still do—so I decided to make a video, for the hell of it. And then I decided that, rather than record a simple video of me reading said poems, I’d make a poetic short film.

Since then, I’ve made several others along the same vein. Some feature full poems, some feature excerpts from longer poems, and still others act as trailers for bigger poetry projects and thus feature excerpts from a number of poems.

So, if you’re up for it, this is what I want you to do with this bonus activity: pick a poem (maybe one you wrote from one of these exercises!); or, if it’s a super-long poem, choose an excerpt. Then, make a short film from/with/of it.

You might include an audio track of you (or someone else) reading the poem. You might not, and instead go silent film-style, and put the text of the poem in the film. You might include photographs or other visual art (by you, or by someone else), or video clips (ditto). You might include music (your music, someone else’s music).**** You get the idea. Have fun.***** Get weird.

Since we’re resisting the TikTok-ification of everything, you obviously don’t need to share your poetic short film on social media, or anywhere. But if you do decide to share it, I hope you contact me and let me know where I can watch it. Cuz I really, really wanna see it.

Recommended viewing:

Three Poems by Jessie Lynn McMains (yeah, most of these are gonna be my own, because I honestly don’t know of many other people doing this right now) Self-Portrait with Ghosts and Trains (Trailer) Dear One (Coney Island Baby) Left of the Dial (Trailer) Also, Carrie Olivia Adams’s Forty-One Jane Doe’s comes with a DVD that includes short films of some of the poems. If you can track that down, I highly recommend it.

Resources:

Flickr (a great place for finding Public Domain and Creative Commons images and videos) Unsplash (ditto!) Pixabay (ditto ditto!) Free Music Archive (great for finding Creative Commons music) Free Sound (great for finding Creative Commons sound effects)

—

*Don’t even get me started on “Instagram” poetry. I’m all for people sharing their work on whatever platforms they choose, and I’m all for short/“simple” poems if that’s the form the poem demands (or which the poet feels most drawn to). But the fact that people are purposefully trying to write a type of poem designed only to get the most ‘likes’ skeeves me out.

**Okay, look, I have friends who write poems to upload to Instagram or make videos to share on TikTok and the like, who are really great at it. I’ve also seen stuff made by complete strangers on those platforms that is really excellent. My opposition to that type of stuff is not that I don’t think there’s anything of value (meaning: artistic and intellectual and like, humanistic value; not monetary value) that can be done with it. My opposition is to the commodification of everything, how we’re all supposed to have our personal Brand, we’re supposed to be a brand, and we’re supposed to be generating constant “content.” I don’t want to create content, I want to make art. In the immortal words of Lloyd Dobbler, I don’t want to buy anything, sell anything, or process anything as a career—that includes myself—and oh yeah, capitalism is the enemy of poetry. The other half of the reason I won’t join TikTok is cuz I resist trends. Hell, I still use Tumblr as my primary “social media” account. (And every seven days, I toggle the switch and turn off Tumblr Live.)

***Jim Jarmusch went to school to study poetry, then became a filmmaker; I went to school to study film, then became a poet. This is a minor coincidence which means nothing, but I still think it’s kinda interesting. (Oh! And! While writing this chapter, I came across this line in Ann Lauterbach’s poem “The Blue Door:” I was once at the Stray Dog Cabaret, once in / unlit neighborhoods where sexy initiatives / were underway, awaiting Jim Jarmusch.)

****If you’re using photos, visual art, video clips, or music by someone else, obviously you can collaborate with someone you know—which would be awesome! But there’s also a wealth of Creative Commons/Public Domain stuff online. I’ll be providing links to some of it.

*****Oh Lord, there’s that damn word again.

(This exercise is from my ebook of NaPoWriMo prompts, which can be found here.)

#napowrimo #glopowrimo #poetry #short film #poetic short film #video art #prompts #ideas #napowrimo 2023 #jessie lynn mcmains

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thesakuraink-lyrics · 2 years

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NaPoWriMo with Winter Tangerine 2019

Day 2

#poetry #napowrimo #napowrimo2019 #asian american poetry

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kaftan · 1 year

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gonna bravely try my hand at napowrimo for the first time since 2019

#yayyyy #been needing to do more poems.

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ashtrayfloors · 1 year

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Early in the week I had a sexy dream about Laura Jane Grace, so I’ve been kinda obsessed with all things LJG since (not that that’s really anything new.)

I had a couple instances of my favorite radio station seemingly reading my mind. One evening, I’d been thinking about the Stooges song “Search & Destroy,” and it came on the radio. A couple days later, driving to the store, thinking about Joe Strummer, The Clash’s version of “I Fought the Law” came on.

I received good news on another of my dear ones’ health scares.

P. got a little depressed and grumpy, as he always does around the holidays.

Thanksgiving sucked, as it pretty much always does. The food was good, that’s the best thing I can say about it. C. woke up way too early so he was cranky, my parents had some big argument about how long to cook the turkey because they are incapable of getting through a holiday (or really any day, but holidays are worse) without some kind of bickering, their moods made C.’s mood worse, he had a meltdown, the stress gave me a phlegm attack.

So, yeah, being around my parents and their dysfunctional dynamics literally made me physically ill. God, it’s no wonder I’m so fucked up and have such a hard time being calm with my kids. At least I am determined to work on my shit, to not repeat all my parent’s mistakes, and when I do make a mistake I let my kids know it was my fault and not theirs. It’s a difficult process and I fuck up a lot, but at least I am trying.

I’ve started taking stock of 2022. I always have a tendency to think I didn’t do anything in any given year (meaning: in terms of my vocations and avocations, and in terms of just living my life.) But then, when I look back on the year, I usually find I did more than I’d initially thought.

So: one of my poems was performed by the Racine Concert band. I had a poem published in Fine Print, which they nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Someone put one of my older poems as a result in a uQuiz. I wrote a bunch of poems for NaPoWriMo, one of which was featured on the official NaPo website. I got to conduct an interview with one of my all-time favorite writers, and write a review of her book, and had those and a story published on the website of one of my other favorite writers. I wrote a brand-new chapbook, and Scumbag Press published it. Wisconsin Death Trip is almost totally sold out, and I may have to go into a second printing. Someone I know has been teaching some of the poems from it in the poetry class she teaches, and someone else I know bought a bunch of copies and he’s going to read/discuss it with his poetry book club. He told me that it’s the type of book he thinks will stand the test of time; he said it’s both such a perfect record of experience and an experience unto itself that it will still be relevant ten, twenty, thirty years from now. I published two zines, including a brand-new issue of Reckless Chants (the first full-length issue since 2019!) I started putting the finishing touches on a revised edition of WWTAWWTAP. I’m nearing the end of NaNoWriMo, and I’ve been working on my novella, the Chicago novella I’ve been trying to write for years, and I’m going to surpass my personal goal of 15,000 words. It won’t be done-done by December 1—I keep thinking of more to add and some of what’s in it right now will ultimately be taken out—but I am finally getting it down and it feels really good.

I’ve written a ton, actually, both poetry and prose—some of it hasn’t been published yet, some of it will probably never be published—but either way, I have written.

Yesterday, C. said to me: “Mom, you’ve written so many things! You’re rich in writing.” I thought he was talking about making money from it, and I said: “Oh, well, I haven’t made that much money from it.” He said: “No, I mean, you’re rich in writing, because there’s so much of it.” Then he said: “And you’re rich in art, too, because you’ve made a lot. And so am I! I make art all the time!” I nearly wept. What a beautiful way of looking at it. Even if we make no money from it, even if no one else ever sees it, I am rich in art and writing.

I made a ton of art. I got commissioned for a couple collages. One of my pieces is currently in an art show sponsored by an actual art museum. I published a few Bone & Ink Press titles and kept the press alive, despite all the difficulties. I made some short films, recorded some spoken word tracks, participated in some zine and poetry readings, tabled at a zine fest, made a podcast. I started playing accordion again. I’ve already got things lined up for the early part of 2023: the January 2023 edition of BONK! Performance Series, which I am both curating and performing in; the Woodland Pattern Poetry Marathon; and an opportunity to teach a group of high school kids about writing and performing poetry.

I kept my family and myself alive, despite some bouts of serious illness and the worsening of some of my disabilities (both mental and physical). I hustled for work and side-gigs and got some help from some kind people, and always managed to make ends meet. I homeschooled two kids. P. and I kept the spark alive in our relationship, even when it was tough. I quit smoking, started again, and am now on track to quit again. (And I am proud of myself despite the slip-ups; it’s a hard fucking addiction to kick, but I consider every cigarette I don’t smoke a win.) I read a lot of books. I cooked a lot of good food. I hung out with some friends—not as often as I would have liked, due to life’s responsibilities + this endless pandemic, but still more than I have since 2019. I took a couple few-day/night trips to Door County, a handful of day trips (Kenosha, Milwaukee, Beloit, Chicago), and had a lot of adventures close to home—long walks around my ‘hood, park visits, beach bummin’, hangin’ downtown, and hella trips to the library.

Yesterday, the library had a Black Friday event. They couldn’t have their usual fall sale due to renovations, so yesterday they did a thing where you could buy a bag for $5 and cram as much as you could fit into it. We filled two bags, and got a bunch of stuff, including a bunch of astronomy books and magazines for C. and some Christmas classics for the whole family and some mystery novels for P., and I got a book of poetry, a book of short stories, two memoirs, an art book, and a Blu-Ray disc of Sin City. It was awesome, and definitely the only Black Friday sale I would ever go to.

Today I’ve been listening to a lot of trip-hop and abstract/instrumental hip-hop. I did yoga this morning. I read some poems, did some novella-writing. I did a bunch of loads of laundry and started packing. C. and I worked on an art project, and there was an…incident…with some gold paint and it ended up in my hair and all over my face, so I took a shower. I was craving a fried egg & cheese sandwich like I used to get from the food carts in Philly every winter, so I made some for lunch. C. and I took a long walk at golden hour, picked up nature treasures; I showed him the way seed pods can make good percussion instruments. Now, P. is cooking dinner, I’m having a drink, soon I’ll be tuning in to this month’s edition of BONK!. Tomorrow, we head up to Door County for our final northwoods visit of 2022.

#ashtrayfloors #dear livejournal #dreams #music #good things #bad things #nothanksgiving #family #dysfunctional parents #taking stock #2022 #writer's life #writing #art #life #plans #i love my local library

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nateglogan · 1 year

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NaPoWriMo #2: Infield Fly Rule

Across the room a musketeer.

Indianapolis plays itself.

It’s been a consequential week since 2019.

Old demons and their endless requests for the honky-tonk DJ.

But if there’s a deal out there, your number will be the first I dial.

#NaPoWriMo '23 #poetry

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schuylerpeck · 5 years

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Day 8/30: Reasons for staying alive

#poetry #poems #spilled ink #quotes #creative writing #napowrimo #napowrimo 2019 #national poetry month #life #future #love

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pencap · 5 years

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- excerpt from after by sylvie ( j.p. ) | napowrimo 2019 #28

#poetrysupportnet #napowrimo #spilled ink #heroicandromache #spacebuck #poetics #napowrimo 2019 #2019.04.28 #i honestly gave up on titling this one #so apologies for the terrible title #a villanelle which was interestin g #as much as i tend to rely on repetition #i really am not a fan of actual refrains #especially in a short + constrained form #i feel like it puts too much of a limit on what i can say in a poem #but this was a worthwhile exercise anyway !!!#there is something to be said for refrains for sure #even if i'm not terribly good at using them

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mothpoems · 5 years

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absence comes to dinner without asking, her hands silver-white, her mouth the quiet that seeds itself into spring. she’s a polite guest, doesn’t ask why i haven’t been myself lately, doesn’t ask if there is a self still in there at all. she sits down across from me, smiling her ghost-smile. i offer her a plate; she takes the knife and slices the air between us in half. i’m a mirror, she says, and holds up a spoon, her reflection inverted. what are you?

there’s too much of me to be insubstantial. i’ve died so many times in my dreams that i almost believe it’s real. absence touches my hand and says i wasn’t made to be a monument, says i’ll tell you a lie, i’ll make it nice. i think of loneliness as a lesson in what you can make from the five a.m. silence, death as a softer goodbye. it’s cruel, the way i pull myself apart in search of fishing line to tie to everyone i miss. i’ll devour anything soft just to feel the way my teeth sink in.

i’m already tangled in so many childhood friends whose names i’ve forgotten. lovers i passed on the street and never saw again. her voice is so familiar, her outline the hollow shapes of all the people i never wanted to let go, the milk-venom taste of sucking poison from a wound, the echo of languages no one dreams in anymore.

absence says, you can make it last forever. you never have to say goodbye.

a.s.w. || @avolitorial

#napowrimo #napowrimo 2019 #escapril #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #inkstains #lookaimi #writerscreed #abstractcommunity #teacup13 #re-bumbleblossoms #sapphosangels #sapphosquad #wlwocpoetrynet #blotchedpoems #poetselixir #i posted this on instagram like two weeks ago but never put it here #so here u go.... i'm working on follower celebration stuff bc i am INCAPABLE of writing #short poems apparently??? god

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creatingnikki · 5 years

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Things I've said under the stars

How do you exist so casually yet magically amdist all our chaos?

I want to live outside of this city.

Are you friends with the moon?

Do they look up and almost trip too?

I know the truth but I'm not ready to accept it yet.

Does the sun make you envious?

Okay. Let's write some poetry.

Am I a fool romanticising everything unnecessarily?

It still hurts.

Can I borrow your acceptance for a bit? You stay where you are but never get restless.

What really is your name? Do you even care about humanly things like that?

How does it feel to be almost immortal?

Do you look down upon me after knowing all my secrets?

I miss her, can I reach out?

Is there any other planet we can escape to? Do we deserve to?

Is there anything in me 1% as bright as you?

Did Van Gogh get you right?

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ialwayscomewhenyoucall · 5 years

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Sleeping Lessons

fandom: Supernatural

pairing: Dean x Castiel

prompt: just sleep now

***

Sleeping Lessons

.

Cas stands in Dean’s doorway,

shoulders slumped,

hair more disheveled than usual.

.

I just keep seeing their faces, Dean.

All those…

they were so young.

Spattered with blood.

Their wide, dead

eyes.

.

Dean doesn’t speak.

But he knows.

.

They watch a movie,

a goofy sci-fi comedy,

on the bed. Their shoulders

press together the first time

they laugh. They don’t

separate.

.

When the credits roll

Cas moves to stand. No,

Dean says. You should stay.

You should…

sleep.

.

Cas tilts his head.

Squints.

You know I don’t sleep,

Dean.

.

Dean crosses his arms.

Roaming the bunker all night

isn’t going to do you any good.

.

They look at each other, engage

in silent conversation. Finally,

without a word, Cas relents.

He takes off his jacket, then looks

at Dean, who gives him half a smile.

.

You know where my clothes are.

Help yourself.

.

On the bed, Cas lays

flat on his back,

arms at his sides. Dean

laughs. Cas, man, you look like

a fallen tree in a Zeppelin t-shirt.

.

Well how would you propose

I do it? Cas grumbles. I’ve had

plenty of experience watching you

sleep, but no experience at all

doing it myself.

.

Dean flips off the light,

crawls into bed.

.

Roll onto your side.

.

Cas complies.

.

Now just…

relax.

.

(He feels his heart

speed up.

Is he talking to Cas

or himself?)

.

He scoots up behind Cas--

he’s the big spoon,

his chest up against

Cas’s back. He drapes

an arm across Cas, pulling

them closer together.

.

Breathe with me, he says

into the darkness.

.

I don’t know what this will

accomplish. You know I don’t

actually have to bre--

.

Shush.

I know

what I’m talking about.

Breathe with me.

.

They breathe together,

deep, even breaths,

and soon Dean can feel

Cas begin to relax beside him--

the trauma of the day slowly,

ever so slowly,

melts away.

.

Just sleep now,

he whispers into Cas’s hair.

.

Maybe it isn’t true

sleep.

Maybe it’s just a

deep, restorative state

angels can reach if a

great enough need arises.

.

But when Cas emits a small

snore,

Dean can’t help but

smile.

***

NaPoWriMo Day 23 || for @60r3d0m

(Thank you soooo much for this prompt! I can’t even say how much I loved writing this. A little angst, a little fluff, a little pining!dean, a little grumpy!cas...ah, my heart is happy. 💙)

#lirael writes #napowrimo #napowrimo 2019 #destiel poetry #emotional hurt/comfort #caring!dean #pining!dean #sometimes an angel just needs to sleep #with his hunter beside him ;)

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salovie · 5 years

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Pain

ripe and inevitable

honest and raw

worthy and worthwhile

Pain

every second

hard-fought and hard-won

through a vise that felt like failure

Pain

its wild wind forced me forwards

in a frantic, impossible race

into the lead

tripping and screaming

across the line and fallen

into the light of

Love

relieved and delirious

healing and forgiving

perfect and forever

#poetry #spilled ink #napowrimo 2019 #napowrimo #prompt #: write a poem that meditates from a position of tranquility on an emotion you’ve felt strongly #this is a quick poem based on my experience giving birth to C #inspired by C #not a haiku

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emptysocks · 5 years

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(4/8/19)

There they sat

Examining the stars

With backs on the ground.

Tracing the path of gods,

Mulling over which to pray to

In order regain what had been lost.

A slow blink

From sets of eyes weighed down

By days of no sleep.

Trying to reunite with lost spirits

Ripped from a monochrome Earth

When the dissolution occurred

And drained every color.

#writerscreed #illustrans #poetryportal #napowrimo #napowrimo 2019 #13cupsofteareblog #twcpoetry #napowrimo day 8 #abstractcommunity #wnq writers #wnq poetry #brokensoulsuploads #starlitpoems #inkstay #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled poetry

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thesakuraink-lyrics · 2 years

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NaPoWriMo 2019 with Winter Tangerine

Day 1

#napowrimo #napowrimo2019 #poetry #asian american poetry

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clovres · 5 years

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27. pink frosting

it was you in the beginning, all my hope puffed from its pinprick. i brushed up against the sunrise, then you plunged me into dawn / showed me strawberries taste lovelier with every leaf left on. you twirl the star-shaped candle inbetween your fingertips: and i think back to how you made a perfect planet of my wrist, and why its ring has been there always shining / ever since. with every singe you sear towards me i feel myself unfold / cause every time you Look at me it's like you're Looking straight into my soul! so here's what i think sparkles in- between your shoulderblades: all your light, and all your kindness, in its ineffable ways.

NAPOWRIMO 2019 DAY 27

#clovres #writings #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #napowrimo #napowrimo 2019 #napowrimo-2019 #:'')))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))#: '''''' )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#: '''''''''''' )))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))) ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

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loveathighspeeds · 5 years

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napowrimo 7 // eucharist

#eucharist #poetry #national poetry writing month #napowrimo #napowrimo 19 #napowrimo 2019 #national poetry writing month 2019 #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #poem

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