Fun and games by Sandra Horn

 

I first came across Jo bell when she compiled 52 Poems, a book designed to help and encourage the writing of a poem a week. It lifted me out of a long fallow period and got me writing again. The content was so helpful that many of the poems in my first collection, Passing Places, owe  their origins to it. Lately, Jo has devised the Poetic Licence, an online group of aspiring poets who receive prompts, links, ideas, interviews with poets – all sorts of glorious stuff from her, every month. The idea is to build a community of poets. We can share work and feed back to each other if we want to. It’s the best thing I’ve come across to get the creative juices flowing and the community is full of amazing people.

Here's a thing from the August prompt, which is about poems as games:

COD/RT

Is a game

the same

as a puzzle?

COD1023last

COD676L57

COD673L13

COD530IL4

COD307L 4from end

COD598last para!

 

Could this

 be called

 a poem?

RT39/118AdvL1

RT39/118AdvL1

RT269/760sect2L1,

COD575L6

COD82L28

COD1086L13!

(COD New Ed. Sixth 1976, RT Abridged 1963)

 

I didn’t get it quite right because the above poem is a puzzle rather than a game and there is a difference. However, rushing to respond, I sent it in to the group and only then stopped to re-read the prompt carefully and think again about the suggested ideas. The first one I tried was N+7, where all the nouns in a poem are replaced by one 7 below them in the dictionary. I counted nouns only and used the Concise Oxford:

 ‘Don’t go near trees in thunderstorms!’

‘Don’t bring May blossom in the house!’

Spilt salt, a broken mirror, foretold evil luck,

Shoes on the table, a robin flown indoors,

Were harbingers of death. One morning, Gran,

Fumbling for her clothing in the early dark,

Put her dress on inside-out, wore it all day

fearing to change it and so change her luck.

We smiled behind our hands, muttered ‘superstition’,

yet, to this very day I’m over-troubled if a mirror breaks,

leave May alone to blossom in the hedge,

shoulder-toss spilt salt into the Devil’s face -

always to the left of course - and never, ever

 stand beneath a tree when there’s thunder –

hedging my bets, hoping to stay another kind of safe

 

N+7

 

 ‘Don’t go near trematodes on Thursdays!’

‘Don’t bring the Mayor into the housing!’

Spilt saltigrade, a broken miscarriage, foretold evil ludo,

Shoran on the tabouret, a roche moutonnée flown indoors,

Were harbingers of debility. One morphine, Gran,

Fumbling for her clove in the early darter,

Put her dribble on inside-out, wore it all deacon

fearing to change itinerary and so change her ludo.

We smiled behind our handles, muttered ‘supervisor’,

yet, to this very darter I’m over-troubled if a miscarriage breaks,

leave Mayor alone to blossom in the heft,

shoulder-toss spilt saltigrade into the Devil’s facing -

always to the legate of course - and never, ever

 stand beneath a trematode when there’s Thursday –

hedging my betony, hoping to stay another kind of Sagamore

 

What’s the point? Apart from the sheer fun of it, seeking and finding words, some entirely new, is always good for the brain and thus the creative process. Then, sharing the work with other aspiring poets produced some great responses. Finally, the huge enjoyment of reading what others had made from the prompt. I went on to try using the method with some well-known works, such as Wordsworth’s Daffodils, but it wasn’t nearly so rewarding – the too-familiar and words and rhythm got in the way somehow. I shall go on to play with more of my own.

 

The next idea was a lipogram – a poem using only one vowel:

 

1. 

A handspan marks

A path that rats

And cats tramp.

Lawn grass

has had a bash

as paws stamp,

Damn!

 

2.

No room

For doom or gloom,

Don’t frown.

Boots on!

Go forth!

 

It isn’t deathless literature, but a very good brain-stretcher – and, again, good fun. I’m energised by these games and can’t wait to get writing. Each monthly prompt from the Poetic Licence, with all the links to poets, workshops, ideas, etc. Has made my brain fizz and I’ve been able to create poetry and then get feedback from the others in the group. One of the offshoots is Bean Sawyer’s brilliant Murmuration of Words, in which we are making poetry jointly, using the Japanese renga form, receiving words, adding our own and posting them on to the next poet. Magic. Bean is another poetric licencee. I can’t recommend it highly enough for would-be poets or poets whose creative juices are in need of a boost.

As for the latest prompt using games, we tend to forget, I think, how important play is for the creative process. Kurt Vonnegut wrote about the joy and centrality to life of what he called farting about. Amen to that.