Poetry Friday: Prose-Inspired Poetry

Happy Friday, everyone! The first Friday of the month brings us to another Inkling challenge. This month, Linda asked us to

Write a prose piece–find a poem in it.

  • Or, write a poem, and expand it into a prose piece
  • Or, find a prose piece, transform it into a poem
  • Or, find a poem and transpose it into a prose piece
  • Any interpretation of this prompt is perfect
  • Going rogue is acceptable too
  • If you end up writing longer than a page of prose, share just a snippet

After a month of searching for an idea, I decided to dig deep into my notebooks for my response to Linda’s challenge. On October 21, 2007, I wrote:

Inspired by an ad in The New York Times:

Last night, as I was sorting through a box of old photos, I found one of me and Mother in the garden one long ago Halloween night. I think I was eight or nine. A white sheet with two holes cut out (unevenly; or maybe it’s my head that’s lopsided) for eyes is draped over me. A plastic jack-o-lantern rests at my feet, ready to be filled with treats. Mother had made a slit on each side so I could carry my cache of candy.  I remember tripping on the extra inches of fabric pooling around my feet as we paraded around the neighborhood. 

What’s really striking about this photo, though, is Mother. Someone who didn’t know her might think she was in costume, too. But her ensemble is classic Mother. Her black patent leather Mary Janes is outshone only by the perfectly poised handbag resting in the crook of her elbow. She’s wearing bright orange tights and a brown mohair coat, adorned with a doll as a corsage. Her hands are sheathed in tiger-striped gloves. 

How I adored her. She was the coolest mother by far, but my friends’ mothers snubbed her. “We make our own fun,” she always said to me. And we always did. And she was always the snazziest dresser, even in the nursing home. On our last Halloween together, she wore a leopard print turban with a bright orange caftan that outshone the moon. 

Here is the photo:

And here is the poem:

Parading around the neighborhood
one long ago Halloween night,
Mother and I turned heads.
Me, a lopsided ghost,
trying not to trip on
the voluminous
white sheet, barely
able to see through
two lopsided eyes,
carrying a plastic
pumpkin filled 
with treats. 

She, a general, standing
tall in orange tights
and shiny Mary Janes
leading her troop. 
No flashlight for us.
She was a beacon.
I would have followed
her to the moon.

Draft, © Catherine Flynn, 2023

Please be sure to visit my fellow Inklings to see how they responded to Linda’s challenge:

Linda @A Word Edgewise
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Molly @Nix the Comfort Zone
Mary Lee @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche

Don’t forget to visit Buffy Silverman for the Poetry Friday Roundup!

18 thoughts on “Poetry Friday: Prose-Inspired Poetry

  1. Oh for a mom who knows to make her own fun! The photo is stunning, and your words touch something in–such courage it takes to be oneself and what a lovely model for any-age you. Thank you, Catherine! xo

    Like

  2. Hi Catherine- What a great picture! What a unique, beautiful woman, your mom. Love the way you pulled out the poetry that was sitting in your prose. And what love, shining through in your last four lines. Love this piece for the simplicity of the moment that reveals such deep love.
    I’m working with some 8th graders and their teachers on writing next week– may I share this piece, and your process, with them? You are always an inspiration. Linda Rief

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hi, Linda, Thank you for your kind words. Of course you may share, but I’m a little embarrassed that my explanation wasn’t clearer. This photo is an ad for Kate Spade, NOT me and my mother. Although my mother was unique and beautiful, she isn’t the woman in this picture. Sorry for the confusion!

      Like

  3. What a lovely tribute! The lines “No flashlight for us. / She was a beacon.” felt particularly impactful, especially having read the prose piece before. Thank you for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. “We make our own fun.” — That is one tough mama! I loved visiting nursing homes when I was younger (my nana was a nurse at one of them and I would accompany her when she would pick up her weekly check). I loved talking to the elderly ladies who would regale me with stories clinging to their brains. Every year, the staff would share a regal mink stole and take turns letting the residents wear it. Thank you for your memories, Catherine.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Good heavens, Catherine–I stared and stared, trying to see you in “your mother’s” face! Your little piece of flash fiction is very, very effective, and your poem is the prose but also something different, something more–a general, leading her troop. Brava.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. The picture makes me want to know your mother, full of fun, ignoring those who want what they think is ‘normal’. Your poem shines with love, Catherine! I made a ‘ghost’ costume for my son one Halloween. He struggled with “seeing” where he was going, needed to be led! We still chuckle over it!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. That last line…brings a little lump to my throat. Even though the other mother’s shunned her, the poet “would have followed her to the moon.” My goodness, the admiration and longing are so well balanced against the characterization of this person’s mother. Well done!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. I am in love with your mother and all the beautiful lessons she taught you about following your passions and being your very own YOU (in spite of what others around you might say). I’m also impressed by your DEEP dive into your notebooks!!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Wow! I love how you were inspired by that advertisement/photo to create the prose piece that led to your poem! You created such a vivid sense of this mother and her relationship with her daughter. The ending 3 lines of your poem are particularly powerful and poignant.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Catherine, I am glad you shared this piece from the Times. It is an excellent one to create a poem with such memories. Your poem echoes the prose ad and the photo is a gem. I like the idea of mother as a general and the child not needing a flashlight is a wonderful perspective on the mother. Sometimes, a poem falls in front of us after much searching, just like yours.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a reply to Catherine Flynn Cancel reply