The beginning of February is finally here and the Swaggers are posting responses to a new challenge. This month Catherine Flynn challenged us.
| Copy a mentor poem (or other text) “word for word, then replace [that poet’s] language with your own.” Inspired by S. Kirk Walsh’s essay “How E.L. Doctorow Taught an Aspiring Writer to Hear the Sounds of Fiction” (https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/09/books/review/e-l-doctorow-virginia-woolf-music-literature-language.html ) |
The Writer’s Almanac comes daily in my email inbox. Some days I barely have time to read it, but others I find a kernel of inspiration, a poem, an author, a rabbit hole. On this day, I remembered Catherine’s prompt and tucked the poem into a document to work with later.
The process was fun. I used the suggesting tool in Google docs editor. That way I kept the original underneath the new text I added. In Greg Watson’s poem, the main character is a yellow lab waiting for its owner outside a coffee shop. We don’t have a yellow lab, but my little schnoodle Charlie goes bonkers when our resident raccoon visits to steal our outdoor cat’s food.
When I’m up early, I feed the cat before dawn. When the raccoon comes, I let Charlie out to the side yard when he goes crazy. One morning, I actually saw the raccoon. It did not run away as I expected, but just stood still like a stone creature from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Watson’s poem gave me the perfect structure to capture this surprising moment.
Raccoon Outside the Back Door
The raccoon outside the back door
today does not move; but instead,still with ever-expectant energy,
like a heron perched for the catch,forepaws poised in the air
above the leaf-littered sidewalk,he stops without making a sound,
knowing that any momentthe cat food will disappear,
slipped back into the human house,and night will suddenly fall into
day: every sound, sight, and aromadisturbed, the door swinging
open and shut, with a backward glanceawkward silhouette, following,
Margaret Simon, after Greg Watson
as if it had somewhere to go.
See other Swaggers poems from mentor poems:
Molly Hogan: Nix the Comfort Zone
Linda Mitchell: A Word Edgewise
Catherine Flynn: Reading to the Core
Heidi Mordhorst: My Juicy Little Universe
Reflections on the Teche 
Ha! When I saw the photo I thought for sure you had caught your rascally raccoon on your good camera. But, I see the photo credit. That would have been too good to be true for a perfect poem and a perfect shot by our deadline. Even though you describe the backdrop of the story in your poem, it comes through. That little bandit thinks that darkness will cover its tracks…..ha! Great poem and a fun challenge!
It’s nearly impossible to manage a barking dog and a good camera, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t tried. The coon was back this morning for a snack and I had my phone with me. We stared at each other through the window. That would have been a cool shot. I’ll keep trying because I don’t think he’ll stop coming.
Fabulous! You packed so much into that suspended moment.
I like the moment of expectancy you’ve captured in your poem—which we also see in the pic. Also your setting up of this moment in the first part of your poem’s couplets. The enjament of the lines adds to the suspense and moves us on—thanks!
I am enjoying seeing all the responses to this prompt. What a moment to capture with that wily raccoon. We must have one of his friends up here who likes to eat the cat food off the porch once the sun goes down when I forget to bring it in.
That photo is perfect for your poem. I like the flow of motion in your poem. Your images capture the racoon so clearly, I can see him without the photo. I love your comparison in this line “like a heron perched for the catch” Great job and a great idea to use a mentor’s poem in this way! I have to try this. I like Watson’s poem, too. Thank you. I’m going to check out the other Swagger’s poetry. Stay away if the racoon wants to come close to you in the daytime because it could have rabies.
This is SO great. I love “night will suddenly fall into day,” and then that wonderful last line. Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
This captures the moment perfectly.
Wow–what an atmospheric poem, Margaret! The ending
the door swinging
open and shut, with a backward glance
awkward silhouette, following,
as if it had somewhere to go.
just knocks it out of the part for me!
Awesome story and poem captured, Margaret. I loved “knowing that any moment/the cat food will disappear,” It isn’t often I’ve been made to have sympathy for raccoons, but you have managed that wonderfully.
I love how your poem is “still,” while also being full of “expectant energy.” The photo you found is perfect!
I love the photo and the way you’ve captured the watching and waiting of the raccoon, “forepaws poised” on the “leaf-littered sidewalk.
So visual, Margaret – I can see the whole moment through your words and your eyes. Why am I feeling so empathetic for the raccoon? They’re such clever creatures … maybe it’s the Narnia stone statue image that makes me want to protect the little scavenger.
You really rocked this challenge, Margaret. So many phrases and lines pop for me. I really liked “expectant energy” and “night will suddenly fall into day.” I love how you’ve taken a regular occurrence and poeticized it here, turning it into something so much more. Well done!
Those last three stanzas, the pileup of uncomfortable words: disturbed, backward, awkward! And I really liked the bit in your post about “a stone creature in THE LION, THE WITCH & THE WARDROBE.” So evocative for many of us, I’m sure!