I really liked this assignment because I love prose. I haven’t worked with it much since the spring, but I think it’s fun to write because while there are rules, sort of, there aren’t rules at the same time. I mean, prose needs somewhat of a rhythm to keep it going otherwise it’s just fiction. There has to be a bit of a lyrical quality in my opinion.
The assignment of Day 3: Skin, Prose Poem, Internal Rhyme ended up being fitting with my earlier post of She’s A Woman In Gold. I like internal rhyme and I think I might have gotten carried away with it, but words just started hitting together so there is a lot.
Probably because gold was part of the theme I went with along with looks and, well it’s kind of a metaphor if you read both posts. I’m not exactly sure what I’m saying. Also, as I wrote this, I had Shawn Mendes’ song “Stitches” repeating over and over in my head. I have to add that Ben Huberman’s consistent use of musical inspiration this time around is thrilling me. I have been meaning to write a post for ages about the fact that people say they don’t like poetry, but music is poetry. Pure and simple. So, Ben, thank you! I love music; I love poetry… they go hand in hand. As I wrote this, I felt like I could rap it, which I can’t rap even though I love some of it. But this has kind of that slam poetry feeling. Oh, now that would be fun to do. To go up on stage and slam this one down.
So, without further ado…….
by Katie Lyn (see that rhyme?)
Soft skin, the skin that I’m in, satin touch, rarely rough, I’m smooth as can be and all totally me. I’m a little bit more, all kissed by the sun, golden with glitter all bronzed and just fine, a bronzing that shines, smoothing down long thin lines. I’m summer soft sexy, a true golden girl. California’s child, a little bit wild, and really quite mild. My skin is like me, a shield and so thin, I’m easily pricked by words that cut in. A pin is like words, it can just dig right in, drawing forth blood and tears flowing out like a flood. My skin is so tough, from the hot summer sun, but prick and see I’m not all of me. I’m me and I’m not, my skin hides my flaws, my inner true self, tucked up on a shelf. I write who I am, and it’s far from just planned, but look at my words and see who is me. The skin that I’m in is just totally me, I’m girly and sweet, and that’s just who I am.
Again, gosh that was fun.