Want to create a 'poetry chain'?
Poetry (pen) Pals #52
Erm, hello letter number 52!?!! We did it. A whole year of prompts and letters and sharing poetry. That feels pretty good right!?
I have an idea for our last full poetry prompt of the first full year of Poetry Pals. Scroll to the bottom to get involved…
More of the same in 2025?
A few things to tell you about…
Poetry Book Club is returning, hurray, hurrah.
I’d wanted to do this last year but it never quite got going. Poetry books were the number one thing on my Christmas list and I absolutely adore a book club so why not for poetry?! I’m hoping there might be others who want to read together? More on this in the week ahead.
Less ‘weekly writing prompts,’ more creative fun writing poetry over the year.
I’ve still got a ton of prompts I want to come back to from last year and that’s just within this publication. There are some wonderful places to find prompts on Substack right now. It’s a great place and time to be writing and reading poetry. Exciting and fun and welcoming.
I’m keen to join in more. Share more of the good work of other writers. I want to keep sharing as much poetry written by women and those identifying as women as possible.
I’ll no doubt still write a pen pal post each Sunday but mix up what these look like. That’s not to say there won’t ever be prompts, just that I have new ideas to try and need to sloooow down a little to do so.
For paid subscribers, an end of month sharing post.
Which means a little longer to work on our first drafts, a specific time and place to ask for constructive feedback (if you’d like some, also just welcome to share) and hopefully one gorgeous longer post to read, full of wonderful poetry. Personally I’m looking forward to being able to dedicate some proper reading time to this - last Friday of every month (I’ll remind you).
Also for paid subscribers, a monthly check in on our writing goals.
You might not have any. You might just be here to read more poetry together or do the odd spot of writing. Lovely. Ignore this bit entirely. But for anyone who has the inkling of an urge to do some submitting this year, for example, or anyone who is already down that road, I wondered if this might be useful? A monthly check in and accountability update. And within said update, I thought this would naturally lead to sharing any opportunities we’ve found.
Poetry circles will reconvene next month! For those who enjoy a meet up I thought we could use the book club choice as a sort of ‘guide’ for our sessions. Which doesn’t mean you have to join in book club (or buy/read every book - don’t worry I am more than happy to do this bit for everyone if you insist, ha) but just that I’ll post out a few poems from the book and we’ll use any themes. Then as before we can do a little writing, chat, a bit more writing, some reading out loud. These were such supportive, generous, conducive sessions in 2024, a real highlight of my writing year. I’m looking forward to more of the same.
Oh and I’d like to explore curating a ‘poetry reference library’ too, but I’m gonna save this one for now while I figure out what it might look like.
Please know that I will always comp a paid subscription to anyone who needs it, no questions asked. Just DM me and consider it done.
Ok, on to some writing…
Your Writing Prompt:
Number 52! So this is a writing prompt AND an example of some of the more creative ways that I hope this Substack will continue to evolve.
Shall we create a ‘Poetry Chain’?
I LOVED the post we did near to the beginning of Poetry Pals sharing our favourite poems. Oh my, I read so many new ones. So it felt good to end the twelve months the way we started.
SO, the idea is this:
Choose a poem to post in the comments (a favourite you read in 2024 or the last one you read and enjoyed or just any poem at all that you fancy sharing. Honestly, no need to over-think this bit).
You will then use THE POEM BEFORE as your ‘writing prompt.’ As in, read the comment directly above yours - that poem is for you.
You might take the title. The last line. You might just use the theme. Borrow a certain word. Recycle whichever bit is calling you and enjoy the complete randomness of the process.
A sort of ‘daisy chain’ of poetry inspiration should start to grow.
I’ll go first otherwise the first person won’t have a poem to use. When I feel like the chain has run it’s course I’ll head to the end so I can make it a loop.
Hopefully this means we’ll get to read plenty of new and brilliant poems and also use a poem that we might not have otherwise as inspiration.
Plus there’s that lovely connection that someone has sort of ‘posted’ you a poem and you are ‘posting’ one for someone else and we are all linking together. Hopefully the universe will throw us serendipitous moments and glimmers of magic.
And don’t worry about having to write a poem. If you post a favourite poem and don’t end up using the one before as a jumping off point, no one will ever know :) There won’t be any actual daisy chains left broken on the grass or anything. Make a note of it, you never know when it might spark something.
Does that all make sense?
Ok, I’ll start, otherwise it might not work at all.
Ooh I wonder how long our chain can get? Please do share your creations (and the source of the inspiration). If you tag me
I can re-stack them. Of course I’m also now nervous it’s going to be a single poem chain (please don’t leave me hanging…)Loads of love
Nelly x
The Hug, by Tess Gallagher.
A woman is reading a poem on the street
and another woman stops to listen. We stop too,
with our arms around each other. The poem
is being read and listened to out here
in the open. Behind us
no one is entering or leaving the houses.
Suddenly a hug comes over me and I'm
giving it to you, like a variable star shooting light
off to make itself comfortable, then
subsiding. I finish but keep on holding
you. A man walks up to us and we know he hasn't
come out of nowhere, but if he could, he
would have. He looks homeless because of how
he needs. "Can I have one of those?" he asks you,
and I feel you nod. I'm surprised,
surprised you don't tell him how
it is–that I'm yours, only
yours, etc., exclusive as a nose to
its face. Love–that's what we're talking about, love
that nabs you with "for me
only" and holds on.
So I walk over to him and put my
arms around him and try to
hug him like I mean it. He's got an overcoat on
so thick I can't feel
him past it. I'm starting the hug
and thinking, "How big a hug is this supposed to be?
How long shall I hold this hug?" Already
we could be eternal, his arms falling over my
shoulders, my hands not
meeting behind his back, he is so big!
I put my head into his chest and snuggle
in. I lean into him. I lean my blood and my wishes
into him. He stands for it. This is his
and he's starting to give it back so well I know he's
getting it. This hug. So truly, so tenderly
we stop having arms and I don't know if
my lover has walked away or what, or
if the woman is still reading the poem, or the houses–
what about them?–the houses.
Clearly, a little permission is a dangerous thing.
But when you hug someone you want it
to be a masterpiece of connection, the way the button
on his coat will leave the imprint of
a planet in my cheek
when I walk away. When I try to find some place
to go back to.
Fast Food, by Carolyn Miller
Sometimes after piano lessons on Capp Street
or ballet class in the Richmond,
my two young daughters and I would drive
in our red Toyota station wagon to
the Jack in the Box on Lombard, then wait
our turn in the line up to the window, where I,
the mother, would ask for what we wanted:
one grilled chicken sandwich, four tacos,
three French fries, three orange sodas, and just like that,
they were handed to me—hot, icy, salty, sweet—
and we parked in a nearby alley and opened
the crisp red-and-white paper sacks and the small
containers of ketchup and sauce, smell of food
blooming in the closed room of the car,
paper cups of soda and little squares of ice clinking,
dark outside the windows, ceiling light on inside.