Twisted Prompts for Sicko Writers (26)
by Michael Arnzen ~ June 18th, 2008.+ Write about a WOMAN-eating plant (as opposed to just a man-eater).
+ Everyone says they’re afraid of clowns. What are clowns scared of? Depict their worst nightmare.
+ Ever heard the expression, “Let your freak flag fly”? Write a story or poem about a freak nation and its hallowed flag. (Option: try drawing or describing the iconography of the flag before you begin).
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Review the entire “Instigation” department where you can now post your writing!
July 5th, 2008 at 5:05 pm
Michael,
One of your prompts reminded me of a poem of mine from a few years ago. It first appeared in Side Show, edited by Cathy Buburuz, which also features a poem of yours.
Brian
Fears of a Clown
Hours after eating
the firebreather’s homemade chili,
beneath rainbowed streaked sheets,
as snug as fifteen fellow funny men
squished in the company car,
a clown dreams
confetti composed of nail clippings from infants
carcinogenic cotton candy
popcorn from radioactive kernels
Tunnel of Love plagued by disease
bumper cars with road rage
greasepaint removed by razor blade
a whoopee cushion with teeth
face eating cream pies
seltzer replaced with acid
a hall of mirrors shattered,
lifetimes of bad luck
apes armed with assault rifles
a runaway Ferris wheel,
with passengers
elephants playing soccer with pre-schoolers
pre-schoolers playing paddycake with grizzlies
the lion tamer in a pork chop suit
the sword swallower hiccups
the knife disobeys the knife thrower
a fortune teller who’s always wrong
or always right
whoops echoing from the trapeze
followed by screams
the laughter stops
and the clown
dreams no more
July 7th, 2008 at 10:38 pm
Okay. I can’t resist. Not the best little poem in the world, but do consider that it took me 5 minutes to write this, after I couldn’t get the ending out of my head. All the best, Mike.
Clown’s Nightmare
The frown remains under her make up. Children
have pointed and cried all day, and the fathers
grabbed their crotches and winked at her, saying
“Want to make some side money?” All of that
is just a day’s work, from birthday parties
to bar mitzvahs and beyond. It’s all different
in her studio apartment. Tucked under her quilt,
she dreams a pasty white figure, eyes lined black,
striped shirt, suspenders and black lips over
white teeth. He feels the air as if it’s a wall,
and he’s groping for the corner.
March 21st, 2010 at 2:21 am