This week, our prompt is about things
you wish you had time for (past and present). Think in terms of things for
which you didn’t or couldn’t make time or things you just can’t fit into your
schedule right now.
The “inspiration poem” for this
prompt is “Something I’ve Not Done” by former U.S. Poet Laureate W. S Merwin.
Read the poem a few times and reflect on what it “says” to you. How do you
relate to the poem? What’s something you’ve not done that “follows you?” Notice
how Merwin’s poem begins with a slightly lighter tone and then becomes
“heavier” at the end.
Following last week’s prompt on
epigraphs, when you feel ready to begin your poem, use Merwin’s first two lines
as an epigraph to get you started: “Something I’ve not done / is following me
…” But don’t rewrite Merwin’s poem. Be sure to move away from the inspiration
poem in ways that are unique to your own style and content.
Remember that the poem you write
this week won’t be about things you have done
but, rather, about things you haven’t
done. Do you have regrets about a specific something for which you didn’t
or couldn’t make time? A relationship that needed more time? A chance that
needed time you didn’t or couldn’t spend on it? A kindness that you didn’t make
time to extend? An opportunity that you didn’t have time to pursue? A place
there wasn’t time to visit? Any of these might provide the content of your
poem.
Notice that Merwin doesn’t name
the thing not done. You may want to try that in your poem or you may want to go
in the opposite direction and tell exactly what you didn’t do. After writing a
draft or two, think about what your poem suggests about regrets. How is the
thing not done the subject of your poem; and how is the way you feel about not
doing it the “second subject?”
Inspiration Poem:
Something
I’ve Not Done
By W.S. Merwin
Something I’ve not done
is following me
I haven’t done it again and again
so it has many footsteps
Like a drumstick that’s grown old and
never been used
In late afternoon I hear it come close
at times it climbs out of a sea
onto my shoulders
and I shrug it off
losing one more chance
Every morning
it’s drunk up part of my breath for the
day
and knows which way
I’m going
and already it’s not done there
But once more I say I’ll lay hands on it
tomorrow
and add its footsteps to my heart
and its story to my regrets
and its silence to my compass
