Post by t w i z z - - on May 25, 2009 12:16:59 GMT -5
So, blackout poems. This is a great way to convey meaning in a short amount of words.
What I'm going to do is type up the page of a book for you. It could be from any book, that's up to me.
Then you get rid of all the words you don't need to form a poem, you see?
Here's an example:
What I'm going to do is type up the page of a book for you. It could be from any book, that's up to me.
Then you get rid of all the words you don't need to form a poem, you see?
Here's an example:
You know how it is, with someone you know well. You don't really look at them, so you don't notice things like what they're wearing or if they have a smudge on their face. You see what you expect to see.
But I remember really seeing Callie one morning. We were coming down the stairs together, and there was this moment when she stood, her eyes blank, under the exposed fluorescent lightbulb on the second-floor landing.
Her cheekbones stuck out sharply. I'd never seen dark circles under someone's eyes before, but Callie had them, and somehow, her eyes had gotten larger than I remember. Also, she'd cut her own hair, and badly. It stood up in little hills and pressed down in little mats all over her head so that it looked darker. It wasn't hair gel giving it shape, either. Actually, her hair just looked dirty.
An excerpt from page 168 of Rules of Survival by Nancy Werlin.
Someone you know well --
really look at them,
under the fluorescent lightbulb,
don't see what you expect to see.
Cheekbones, eyes blank,
dark circles, hair:
just looked dirty.
Okay, it's not that great. But as you can see, you can mix up phrases, pull words from anywhere in the poem. It doesn't have to be about what the page was about, it can be about anything. It's up to you.
Try to keep it short and concise, as always.
Here's a page to try it on:
Matt froze. His mind locked up. He still had that glow inside him, the warm humming energy of keeping an incredible secret, but as he waked toward the front door, step by step the other secret began to take hold again. He had to keep his expression blank. Tell them nothing. But what if something had happened that was really, really bad? What if Neal was not okay, then what would he tell them?
He noticed there was no ambulance. Only a cop car. That might be a good sign---or at least a less bad one. When he pushed open the front door, hearing its tiny creak, there were already too many secrets inside him, and he had no idea what would be inside his house.
He heard his dad's voice. "Matthew?" His dad shouldn't be home so soon. It wasn't even dark.
"Is that you, honey?" called his mom. "We're in the living room."
Matt came to the living room, where no one in his family was normally allowed to go,except for holidays just before dinner when relatives came over and everyone perched on chairs, or when his parents had cocktail parties.
Page 85 of Falling by Doug Wilhelm.
