Once again, I made a variation to my ongoing Paint Chip Poetry game. This time I pointed to a random page in the alphabetized index in the back of the pack of chips, and took the three names my finger covered. They were: Jubilee, Julep, and June day.
Spring Celebration
Come sing a song
of jubilee
embrace June days
and julep breeze
Change winter scenes
to memories
Breathe deeply into
spring’s reprise
©Molly Hogan, 2019
This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Karen Edmisten at her blog. She’s sharing a wonderful poem by John Ashbery there. You can also find links to dozens of other poetry-related blogs. Check it out–It is National Poetry Month (NPM) after all!
I accepted Mary Lee Hahn‘s invitation to spend this NPM, or at least some of it, Playing with Poetry. I had access to a collection of paint samples, so have focused my efforts there. So far, it’s been a fascinating process. I’m only five days in, but I’m having such fun! My first effort (here) still makes me giggle, and every day yields challenges and surprising outcomes. Some names come together immediately and others just won’t play nicely. I love the way the paint chip names encourage me to make new and unexpected combinations.
I’ve been varying the game each day. Today, I decided to pull one random color strip and choose from amongst the seven possible color names on that strip. I chose these three: Meander Blue, Cloudburst, and Raindrop.
As Winter recedes
she withdraws her white cloak
revealing the flowing river
reborn in full meander blue glory
with cloudbursts dancing on its liquid surface
birds swimming in reflective depths
and rising fish creating raindrop ripples
that expand into infinity
©2019 Molly Hogan
I also was tickled by the thought of enthusiastic poets swarming their local hardware stores to score some paint chip samples. With that in mind on Day 3, I wrote this poem highlighting the colors: Sensible Hue, Manitou Blue, and Angora. I’m sharing it here again (with a few changes–it’s still drafty and I’m still playing!).
Meanwhile at the local hardware store…
“Here comes another one,”
sighs the exasperated clerk.
“No sensible hues,” she announces
“I’m looking for exotic names,
or at least some rhyming potential.”
Her eyes skitter across the rainbow
of graduated color samples
Moving closer, she pushes back the sleeves
of her bedraggled angora sweater,
her ink-stained fingers hover, twitch
Lost in thought, she mutters,
like a fledgling incantation,
“Perhaps enlightened lime, euphoric lilac
or maybe this brilliant Manitou blue?”
©Molly Hogan, 2019 (draft)
You know, I just have to say that I really wish there were a better abbreviation for Paint Chip Poetry than PCP. While Paint Chip Poetry has challenged me to think in new ways, I can say with certainty that it hasn’t induced hallucinations or lead to violent outbursts.
At any rate, today I chose these colors randomly from three different color strips: Henna Shade, Brassy, and Wheat Grass. This was definitely the most challenging poem so far. I’m not really satisfied with this, but honoring the idea of playing, I’m sharing it anyway.
An Autumnal Moment
The russet setting sun casts light
through the ornamental cast iron gate
creating intricate henna shade
on the shimmering wheat grass
while overhead, migrating geese
sound their brassy calls
©2019 Molly Hogan
Ok, I may be addicted. Paint Chip Poetry is just plain fun. I pull three paint colors randomly — I’ve been pulling a color “stick”, pointing without looking, and then doing that again two times–and then I get going. Each time I’ve initially thought, “Ugh. What am I going to do with those colors?” Then somehow I find my way into a rough draft of a poem, or maybe even two!
Today’s colors: Sensible Hue (Yes, really!), Manitou Blue, and Angora
I was not feeling too hopeful with this selection. I decided to start with angora and give myself a character and see what happened. A few more colors made their way into the mix here.
Angora Dreams
Through the finger-smudged glass,
the soft angora rabbit
watched the coloring children
He glanced wistfully at his own sensible hue
and wished for some crayola glamor–
a dab of Razzle Dazzle Rose, a splash of cerise
or perhaps one streak of Manitou blue…
He sighed, hunkered in the corner,
and nibbled on his Burnt Orange carrot
©Molly Hogan, 2019
After spending some time reading and commenting on posts tonight, I was struck by how many people were planning to find some paint chips and try out Paint Chip Poetry. That lead me in this direction, where a few colors from the past two days made a cameo appearance:
Meanwhile at the local hardware store…
“Here comes another one,”
sighed the exasperated clerk.
“No sensible hues,” she said.
“I’m looking for exotic names,
or at least some rhyming potential.”
Her eyes skittered across the rainbow
of graduated color samples
Moving closer, she pushed back the sleeves
of her angora sweater,
her ink-stained fingers hovered, twitched
Lost in thought, she murmured,
“Perhaps enlightened lime, euphoric lilac
or maybe a brilliant Manitou blue?”
©Molly Hogan, 2019
I thought I was all worn out after last month’s SOL writing challenge. Phew! No daily writing deadlines. Less pressure! More time for….other stuff. Woohoo!
But… it’s National Poetry Month. There are challenges and invitations everywhere! Much to my surprise, I’ve found myself “Playing Around with Poetry”. I’m still not quite sure who gets credit for issuing the initial invitation, but think it was Mary Lee Hahn. I know that Jone MacCulloch, Margaret Simon and Christie Wyman are playing along. Yesterday, I gave in to temptation and messed around with my own version of some Paint Chip Poetry.
This morning, much to my surprise, I couldn’t resist trying again. I changed it up a bit, deciding to pull out three random strips and point at one color on each strip without looking. I pulled: “dapper tan”, “papaya”, and “euphoric lilac.”
Spring Dawn
One plump sparrow
with dapper tan stripes
forages beneath the euphoric lilac
heavy with exuberant blossoms
whose scent drifts up
to sweeten the
papaya-streaked sky
(rough draft)©2019 Molly Hogan
In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s National Poetry Month! There’s all sorts of fabulous, frivolous poetry fun going on. I’m not sure that I’m up for a full month’s challenge, but the prose writing for the Slice of Life Challenge has left me yearning to write poetry. Also, I keep seeing posts inviting me to join in and “Play with Poetry”. Who can turn down that kind of invitation? I believe this particular fun began with Mary Lee Hahn and Jone MacCulloch, but I’m not sure. (Please correct me if you know I’m off-base with this! Update–The idea originated with Mary Lee! She has the best ideas!!)
At any rate, I made my own version of Paint Chip Poetry today. I took a Sherwin-Williams paint chip sample thing-a-ma-jig, that has been tucked in a classroom cupboard for years, and brought it home. I decided to pick one “stick” of colors and randomly choose three names. Today I picked: “cucumber”, “pickle” and “enlightened lime”. Oooookay.
Here’s my very rough, very odd, draft poem. I’m not quite sure what to make of it, but every time I read it, it cracks me up. Then I get a little worried. (March really was a very long month.)
A Proliferation of Greens
In the fridge
the dark matte green skin
of cucumbers goosebumps
in proximity with
dull shades of pickle
seen through smudged glass
and murky liquid
but in the fruit drawer
there’s a burst of color
from one enlightened lime,
clearly destined
for my future margarita
©2019 (rough draft) Molly Hogan
March 2019 SOLC–Day 31
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org
It had been a long satisfying day. I’d begun the day at sunrise at the river watching an incredible natural display of spring exuberance. Then, I’d come home to write and was thrilled by some unexpected new visitors at the bird feeder.
After that, I spent three hours gallery sitting at the last day of an exhibit of my photos at a local art center. I returned home to finish off my blog post and pack, and then we were off to drive to Massachusetts for a celebratory dinner with my son and his fiancee and her family. Instead of trying to drive the 2+ hours back home, we’d decided to stay overnight.
After dinner, we were both more than ready to get to our motel, check in and settle into bed with our books. We left the restaurant with hugs and goodbyes, and headed toward our destination: a Motel 6 about 30 minutes away. On the way, we recalled Tom Bodett reciting their quaint welcoming slogan, “We’ll leave the light on for you.”
I hunched over the wheel, working my way through the unaccustomed traffic, following the narrated GPS directions to the hotel, eager to arrive. As I merged across multiple lanes of traffic and made various quick stops and turns, I remembered how much I don’t like driving at night and in the city. Around us, to my country eyes, our surroundings looked increasingly ugly and somewhat sketchy.
Where was this hotel anyway?
Finally, we saw the Motel 6 sign up ahead.
“There it is!” Kurt said.
Ah, relief was at hand!
“Stay to the right, then make a sharp right onto Popes Lane,” the GPS voice directed.
In the midst of the unattractive suburban concrete sprawl, I turned as directed and then maneuvered into the motel parking lot.
“Go that way,” Kurt said, pointing.
“Slain,” the GPS voice suddenly announced as if she were a tour guide on some grisly sensational murder tour.
“What?” I asked, looking at Kurt. He looked as confused as I felt.
The voice continued, “to kill violently, wantonly, or in great numbers; broadly, to strike down, kill.”
We both turned and looked at the motel, trying to make sense of this unsolicited announcement. Why was the GPS suddenly narrating the definition of slain? To make things even odder, Kurt doesn’t even have voice activation on his phone, and this was simply the default GPS narrator.
“Well, that’s a bit alarming,” I finally said.
Kurt and I looked at each other and then again at the waiting motel. What!?!
As I moved the car forward and into a parking spot, we eyed the hotel with growing trepidation.
The helpful GPS voice then intoned, “You have arrived at your destination.”
We looked at each other and burst out laughing at the strangeness of it all. Then, we both glanced at the motel again. Suddenly, that famous Motel 6 slogan, “We’ll leave the light on for you”, seemed a bit less charming than it had before.
