writing prompt: the cento
September6
My fellow PoCo ladies and I used this prompt a while back, and I think it’s time to go for it again. The first step is for everyone to post a poem in the comments to this entry. All participants will then choose a poem (or more if you are feeling adventurous), rip it apart at the seams, and then sew it back together as a brand new poem.
Think of it as buying a piece of clothing and then remaking it to be completely yours.
For those who are hopelessly clueless about what a cento is (and by that I mean Dana), you can learn more about centos here.
I will post my poem first, its a long one, lots to use:
I can pull out my own seams better than anyone
I am
creativly
self-destructive.
I wake in the morning
and remember
cold steel
against skin;
splitting flesh
on my ankle
and thigh;
lines of shining,
red and white
pills on the edge
of my mother’s
kitchen dounter
and an endless
glass of water;
walking home
stumbling
drunk in the dark
alone, arms
around
my neck and waist
not fighting,
pleading for
the real end.
I woke up and knew
you were no longer
a reason
to live
after I drove
away from you
in a midnight
thunderstorm
without
windshield wipers.
I wake up and pull
strings from the corchet
trim of a pillow case,
unravel moment after
moment of a day
that was never
mine. These
words are no
plea
for your help -
but celebration
of the only
power
available.
“Think of it as buying a piece of clothing and then remaking it to be completely yours.”
Listen. I once tried to take some clothing and turn it into custom-designed panties. I have a a small waist but a curvy behiney, so most off-the rack panties don’t work for me.
I had one pair I liked a lot, so I used that pair as a model. I envisioned myself never having to deal with poorly designed panties again. Ever! I would simply repurpose my old clothes into new, perfectly fitting undies!
Things did not go as planned. First, it’s hard to sew something so … panty-like. Second, I left out the elastic.
So. Are you sure you want me to be involved in this prompt? I might hose everything all up. Maybe I should sit here on the sidelines and cheer everyone else on.
Yes, we do, so get your small waist and curvy ass in gear and post a poem and join in…
I have the feeling that you’re way better with verse than you are with scissors and thread and needles…
Here’s one ready to be torn apart:
You walk through the orgy
untouched. Stepping lightly
with steady pulse. Ready at
the door with a sigh that
says more than a novel.
As you cross the room
footprints bloom in the
delicate carpet. The crystal
sits ringing in illuminated
cases. Who are these faces?
The nod, the stare, the hand
in pocket, the secretive
display always taking chances.
Are the rifles reached so
easily we need disarming
glances?
You’re so rough, Nathan. I prefer to have mine delicately separated.
This is one I had published but don’t love that much. It deserves to be repurposed into something better:
When the Movie’s Main Character Commits Suicide by Drowning
You will pound your fists.
What you want before he goes:
his voice in your body,
his breath hissing over you.
You will dive in to grab his arms,
his pale torso, his swayback,
all his wanting. His hair.
What has awakened in you
will not quiet: a thrum,
a language you can’t follow,
a crescendo, an instrument
with leaky keys.
You will block the mouth
of the water, press your
shaking body into service.
What loosens can be rewoven,
you will want to say,
but you won’t dare speak.
And, Your heart is still beating:
now, now, now.
“I have the feeling that you’re way better with verse than you are with scissors and thread and needles … ”
Slynne, I dunno. I’m pretty good with scissors. Especially when I’m running.
Here’s my torn levis, white tee, doc martens and kohl:
Chaperone
A boy with a voice that betrays him
halfway through words,
bumfluff lip, bad skin,
pose of studied nonchalance.
A dead ringer for Andy Gibb.
There’s a record player in his shed,
a stash of cider and Babycham.
You watch the sharp blade of Adam’s apple
as he tilts back his neck,
mouths smoke rings,
arm draped round your friend
the Catholic girl whose father
would flay her if he knew.
You’re here as insurance,
because he’s always trying it on.
He passes you his soggy Silk Cut and
you can’t flatline your smile quick enough.
Both hands free, he moves in for the kill,
the Sex Pistols shrieking,
their anger an assault,
listening almost as daring as
this moment, them kissing, clamped,
you wishing it was you.
When his hands squeeze the breasts
you covet, hidden places trill.
She doesn’t pull away.
The words enough’s enough
lounge around in your throat.
awesome! jill will be so happy!
she didn’t get a chance to figure out the posting protocol before she had to leave for her weekend trip.
let’s make sure we wait for her to return so she can offer one up and join in on the reconstructive surgery.
she’ll return monday, i believe.
off to find a poem to contribute!
here’s an ancient draft i never did anything with … maybe after this i’ll give it a new life.
We clamor to be
part of something,
tragedy even, to say
the hurricane toppled
a tree that sliced
my cousin’s trailer
in two, the planes
killed my husband’s
business partner’s
sister-in-law who
worked in one of the
towers, the flood filled
my mother’s childhood
home with mud deep
as the door knobs, my
neighbor knows the
brothers who tried
(but failed) to rescue
their dog from the fire
that was in the paper
today. We feel closer
to people when we stand
next to tragedy, near
enough for its long black
hair to catch the wind
and slap our faces,
like sleet striking glass.
Without the fellowship
orbiting around sadness
we would feel so
alone. We would have
no recourse but to chase
tornadoes, tempt sharks
in warm waters, send
someone we love into
battle, watch—through
trembling fingers—as
our children go off to school.
Since I’m the resident person-who-knows-very-little could someone let me in on any guidelines? For example, should we use every word? Can we change words (tense, person, ect)?
Nathan’s question is a good one. I think we need to be consistent. It takes a lot of time and concentration to make an integral poem without changing a word.
This is a poem from my blog, a sestina written in free verse.
When I spy a blue
heron on a rock the weather
clears– I see myself, a daughter,
mother, wife, a me
who lives in this shape,
a body directed in time toward this point.
The heron is a distant point
on a rock midstream, blue–
grey feathers shape
and protect its weather–
beaten spirit, just like me,
a woman who is a daughter,
a friend, a daughterless
mother of sons. They all point
the way for me.
I flip the pages of life’s blue
book, trying to weather–
proof my patched up shape,
a body that never was ship-shape.
I’ll imagine my past self is my daughter,
a ghost spinning in a weather–
vane dance, her days lived in a point
and click series of blue
skies, smiling at me.
She never knew me.
Her days to shape
events have feathered into blue–
grey clouds where daughters
live the easy life and point
at us who still accept the weather
as it rains, hails, no matter, the weather
will fall on me
as it pleases. I point
to the streamlined shape
of the blue heron, my daughter
of this moment. Out of the blue
the heron opens blue-grey wings and the weather
changes, my daughter leaves me.
She’s now a distant shape, flashing point-blank in my mind.
“Nathan’s question is a good one. I think we need to be consistent. It takes a lot of time and concentration to make an integral poem without changing a word.”
So does that mean we can’t change any of the words?
Oh, I was kind of hoping it meant we could take the central idea and images and rewrite it from there, adding the odd word, essentially sticking with what’s there though; a sort of roadkill revision…..not having to use every word though. Personally I find exercises like that incredibly difficult and, if I’m really honest, sort of counter-creative (that’s only for me, though).
Believe me, I want to be able to make some changes and leave words out. Jo, is that how you usually do this? That would be fine with me. I was just wondering.
Oh, I’ve never done it before……I’ve tried the prompt where a poem is broken down into every word and you remake a wholly new poem from it and I’ve got to say I’m amazed at people’s ability to write this way. I can’t, I find it really, really difficult (interestingly I’m crap at jigsaw puzzles too, my mind just doesn’t work that way). But I’ll go with the flow…..maybe the more I do it, the better I’ll get.
Here’s a small poem that fits the (my) mood and prompt and has ripping on its mind.
Strut down the sidewalk.
Early sun glimmers
On your smudged cheeks.
Eyeliner cascades in pools
Shadows run in long
Gone stockings. Your net
Is undone. An ankle
Escapes. A little too
Large matching wrist
And I wonder who set
You loose on the streets.
No coffee, no breaking
This fast. Pride propels
What undone tulle cannot.
Yeah, let’s wait for Jill and keep talking how-to’s. I’m a complete novice here. Especially with this prompt.
Jo - I can’t do jigsaw puzzles, either.
Hey hey,
I think it is fine to change, add, or omit a word here and there. Another option that allows more flexibility is to choose a few lines from each poem and put them together into a new poem.
And I’m bad at the rearranging words to make a new poem thing too, but I try and try. Also puzzles!
Here’s my poem. I wrote in 15 minutes or less (take that naysayers) back in the summer when dana asked me to be a minister but i was otherwise engaged. oh, and for what it’s worth, on my patchwork poetry site, i ask participants to try and use lines as-is, with maybe a tense or participle change here or there. But not all lines from all poems. Only the lines that speak to them.
***********************************
OK. I Will Marry You
Just keep delivering my mail
keep dropping the milk
in the metal box outside my door.
I know box, metal or not, is sexy.
I know you think I have
a box
a shop
a hot number.
I will marry you
when the moon lands
between my sheets,
when the stars
lead the way
out of those dark spots.
Keep shooting blanks, cowboy.
I am a peace lover.
Save me from the man in black,
unless he is the minister.
By Hell or high water
bring me the man
of the cloth.
OK. I will marry you.
Just let me take this other ring off.
Jill! This is a lovely wedding poem. Thank you for writing it for Blythe and Dana. But one question: Are you saying Dana is a cowboy and that she shoots blanks?
Hello.
Feldman
Yay, can we all get to work on this one now!!! I’m raring to go…
When we have something do we post it here in the comments?
Nathan, who knows. Slynne needs to tell us what to do, since this is her prompt.
Here’s my cento, using the poem I submitted and the one Nathan submitted. I changed the punctuation in a couple of places, and I admit to changing one “the” to a “his.” I have never done a cento before, so I don’t know if this is right:
You won’t dare speak
What you want before he goes:
His breath hissing over you,
the door with a sigh that
will not quiet, a thrum
with steady pulse. Ready at
his pale torso, his swayback
untouched. Stepping lightly,
you will block his mouth
as you cross the room.
Delicate carpet. The crystal.
What has awakened in you
says more than a novel.
You will pound your fists.
You will dive in to grab his arms.
The nod, the stare, the hand,
all his wanting. His hair.
A language you can’t follow.
A crescendo, an instrument
shaking body into service.
His voice in your body
sits ringing with leaky keys.
In illuminated glances,
footprints bloom in
the secretive display.
Your heart is still beating.
The always of water.
What loosens.
Press now. Now.
Here’s mine. It uses parts of poems by christine, deb, carolee, jo, dana and jill.
The Mail
Who lives in this shape? Who
leads the way out of these dark
spots?
A weather-beaten spirit just like
me directed in time to this point.
My voice betrays me. Halfway
through words — kissing, clamped,
through trembling fingers I press
my body into service — hidden places
trill. She lounges around in my throat.
My net is undone. My mind’s
a ghost spinning in a weather
vane dance. It all points the
way for me.
I live in a point and click
series of blue skies. Smiling
at me, she’s now a distant
shape, flashing point-blank
in my mind.
Just keep delivering my mail.
Dana, your poem is absolutely beautiful.
Nathan, yours is brilliant.
Did I even do mine right? I have no idea how lines can be broken up in a cento. Is it acceptable to use a phrase but not the whole line? Is it acceptable to use a few words, but not the whole phrase. I have no idea about these things.
Brilliant. Yours is brilliant. I will now lean back and stare at it for a while.
Speaking of mail, I can’t get gmail to load. Grrrrrrrr.
Everyones: Should we post our completed centos as their own posts? I think I am gonna, so visitors can see the completed pieces. I suggest others do so as well.
Hi.
Remember to label them as the next installment in the “centos” series and add the category “our poetry.”
Hi.
Hi all,
Sorry, Still getting the hang of it all. I’m the worst prompter ever. I will get better, I promise. I love the centos everyone has posted so far!
i used lines from everyone…
The Fuck Buddy
This fast pride propels
the beaten spirit, who, just like me,
orbits sadness
I’m here as insurance,
I’m what you want before you go
to walk through the orgy.
From between my sheets,
who let you loose on the street:
She never knew me
except trembling fingers –
the words enough’s enough.
I never pull away.
[...] although in whole the lines are remarkably unchanged. For the original poetry-offerings go here. And while there bink on “centos” and read some amazing poetry, all assembled from two [...]
[...] american sentence cento mash-up September16 This entry is part 10 of 10 in the series american sentencesamerican sentenceswriting prompt: american sentenceswhile looking at a painting by r.w. van boskerckmy american senteces that are all about memememore american sentencesmy american sentenceswhat do we do now with our american sentences?another dose of american sentencesyet more american sentenceseven more american sentencesamerican sentence cento mash-upBelow are a bunch of American Sentences the members of the collaborative wrote. If you click above where it says American Sentences, you can see who wrote which sets listed below. Christine suggested that we work with these pieces by making centos out of them, which is a writing prompt we first tried over here. [...]
hey guys, i’m with jill in terms of true “cento-ing” is to use the whole line changing nothing. like she says, a verb tense or participle sometimes allowed.
however, this site is the rule-breaking site so i don’t think anyone’s wrong … it’s all exercise, right?
(but, psst. if you play cento over at patchwork poetry, be prepared. jill — and me as her trusty sidekick — are sticklers about the rules. sometimes harder is better.)
and for all the pervs out there, yes, that sounded bad.
Hi. I just stopped over from The Buffaloe Pen and I’m very happy to begin to get to know y’all and this blog.
While I’m doing that, or before I continue doing that, I must say to jillypoet that I adore your poem. NOT that I don’t love the poems of others - uniformly wonderful poetry here - just that jilly’s theme particularly punched my guts out!
Thanks and I’ll be seein’ ya, I hope.
Carolee, then I have not written a cento. I used phrases in mine, not whole lines. Put me in the spanking machine, k?
Hi Hysperia. Thank you for stopping by and do come back.