Week One
In which we go over some housekeeping items and set out on our adventure
Welcome to The Public Domain Poetry Project where we deconstruct an older poem by using each line (one per week) as a jumping off point for a brand new poem. Participants are encouraged to share their poems in the comments below, or to leave us a link so we can read them elsewhere. If this sounds like fun to you, please consider subscribing for free so you don’t miss next week’s prompt. Thanks for visiting!
Welcome to the first day of our new project! I say our project because this really is a collaborative endeavor. We’ll be taking an older poem and letting it inspire a whole bunch of new poems, and perhaps in the process we can breathe a bit of life into the original piece, at least in terms of how we think about it. The more of us that join in the better. More perspectives means wider, more varied and more interesting responses. So please, invite your friends to join us!
Before we jump in, just a few housekeeping items:
It's important to me that we foster a supportive community here in the comments. That’s kind of the the whole point of the endeavor. In order for people to feel comfortable sharing their responses to the prompts (either by pasting your poem in the comments below, or sharing a link to your own post elsewhere) we need to treat everyone’s work with respect. Which is not to say you have to leave glowing, effusive comments on every poem shared. We’ve all got limited time. If you’re moved to comment on something, great. Just be nice.
In a related note, if you’re looking for feedback, it’s okay to ask for it, but the more specific you can be the better. “What do you think about the word choice in stanza two? It doesn’t feel quite right to me” or “Do I need the fourth line? Or is it too on the nose?” are great ways to let readers know you’d like their thoughts, while also providing a bit of direction. I think we can do this in a way that feels supportive and collegial.
Which leads me to my final point. This is not meant to be a forum for perfectly polished pieces. These are prompt responses, not journal submissions. Have fun with it. If you’re too busy one week, take a pass. We’ll miss you, and be delighted to see you back another time. Get creative in the way you respond to the prompt. Maybe you use each world in the line as the first word in each separate line of your poem. Maybe rearrange the words to say something totally different. No rules, just an excuse to write.
Get on with it already!
Okay, okay. The poem I’ve chosen is one by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I’ve always loved her poetry, and felt a certain kinship with another girl born in Maine. She grew up in Rockland, just a couple of scenic hours up the coast from me.
I love so many of her poems, and any number of them would have worked very well here, I think. But the one that stood out to me was “Travel.” When I came upon it recently it was like running into an old friend.
Despite not being a very well traveled child (I don’t believe I went beyond New Hampshire until I was eleven years old) I adored this poem when I was a girl. I knew I wanted to travel long before I started going anywhere. And I especially love train travel. Planes are great, but there’s something different about moving through the landscape and seeing it all go by.
And, of course, we’re setting off on a new adventure! I think there’s something very fitting about launching this project with “Travel.”
I was going to post the whole poem here, but then I thought maybe some of you who aren’t familiar with it would prefer the new lines be a surprise each week. So instead I’ll link to it here and you can read it in its entirety if you like. There’s also a short biography of the poet here.
Which all brings us to our very first prompt:
(drum roll….)
The railroad track is miles away
I think that’s a pretty lovely line to start with, don’t you? Where will it take you?
Below is my response to this first line. Read on, if you like. But if you’d rather go straight to starting your own poem, I will not be offended if you save it for later.
Cacophony by Moonlight
The railroad track is miles away
so I know the sound I hear
is not a train, not the pulsing
grind of wheels on track,
not the moaning squeal
of metal kissing metal
that kindles sparks for free
The sea is near, yet on this placid night
I cannot lay blame
on its tidal head
for this pounding crash,
this surging hiss
Tonight the sea is but a whisper,
holding its breath,
playing softly on its shore
I cannot shake my fist from the stoop
at the truck rumbling
up and down this street,
metal seams creaking over bumps,
breaks whining
like an anxious hound
For the streetlights pool
on empty pavement,
the quiet cars sleeping
in rows along the granite curb
So this pulsing, crashing, whining din
is of my own design
It is the product
of the words,
the wishes,
the worries
in this head,
that live each in their place
when it sits upright
upon my shoulders
Yet once I lay it down
upon my pillow
they slide from their nooks,
rubbing round each other
like a cat through ankles
bouncing forward and back
over and under
until the small chamber
of my skull echoes
with their sound
Then slowly, and with mercy,
they come to rest again
in new company and fall
silent in the quiet night
A couple of other things I’ve come across this week which you might find useful:
Over at
, Nelly offered up an invitation to try our hand at a list of alternative New Year’s resolution. Her resulting poem is lovely and inspiring. I’ve been tinkering with my own list this week. Maybe you’d like to try, too.
- ’s “10 Tips for Emerging Poets this Year” is full of thoughtful, helpful advice. Worth a read. In fact, I just discovered it’s worth a second read, too.
Please visit me over at Poetical, where I post a poem most Fridays, along with a bit discussion about the theme and/or the craft.
Looking forward to seeing you all in the comments! Bon Voyage!
The railroad track is miles away;
I left it with my childhood.
And now its paralleling lines
Wind only in my memory.
For I've travelled to a place
Where railroad tracks aren't needed.
We ride and sway instead inside
The Great Lakes endless seaway.
The railroad track is miles away
.
It’s been so long since I’ve been on a train.
The closest I came was taking the light rail
from a transfer station to the airport.
Waiting on the platform was a woman
who drew my eye: her platinum blonde hair
and stacked high heels, her black capris
and bright lipstick. She was older than me,
maybe in her sixties, so chic.
I tried to take subtle notes on her outfit.
When she sat next to me, I was so pleased,
ready to learn. We ended up talking
about our families, about estrangement,
about time spent trying to fix broken things.
I told her what I feared about my trip:
that my sister wouldn't want to talk to me.
She told me it was going to work out.
Or maybe not. She told me it was still
going to be okay.