Some of the most effective poetry or prose that I’ve read is that written in the second person. The voice automatically becomes conversational and creates something of an intimate feeling.
Second person prose is often a challenge and tends to be confined to pieces of short fiction. Either prose or poetry can be addressed to a person, an object (ever say a few choice words to your laptop), God, a pet, or even yourself. There is no limit to span of emotions that you can express: anger, sadness, and quite often, love. The voice may be formal, informal, written in dialect. Grammar can be perfect or full of errors that will help to develop a character. Working with second person prose is a great asset for the fiction writer as he or she works to develop skills in writing dialogue
For today’s prompt, conjure up a person, place or thing–real or imaginary–and speak to it in poetry or prose. Consider the mood you wish to create and the voice in which you want to write.
- Write your short fiction, essay or poem and post it on your blog or website;
- Access Mr. Linky at the bottom of this post and add your name and the direct URL of your post;
- Take a few minutes to visit and comment on other participants’ work and return visits to those who’ve commented on your work.
For my poem, I chose an older one that celebrates Spring as the season of love. If it looks familiar, it’s been out there before. I will also link this to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets’ Pub, with apologies for not coming up with something new. If you’ve haven’t stopped by the Pub this week, you don’t know what you are missing! Come on down..
Do you remember the cloud
that looked like a white dog bounding
across the empty gray sky?
Or the coupling dragonflies,
their wings shaved slivers of
shimmering moonstone or fire opal?
Nearby, something moldered in dank earth.
Its smell mingled with
the scent of our sweat and sex.
A chorus of crickets undulated
in an outdoor theater,
unabashed by our nakedness.
You told me to get on top because
the grass beneath our blanket scratched me.
A breeze licked my body.
Do you think that it was love?
Or maybe because tomorrow would be spring.
Photo credit: Wikipedia