Believe it or not, we’re already a week deep in November. I’m still not sure where my poems are headed, though I definitely have a direction now and a compass.
For today’s prompt, write a simmer down poem. This could be a poem about cooking, about calming down, about taking it easy. You get to simmer down in your own way.
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Revision doesn’t have to be a chore–something that should be done after the excitement of composing the first draft. Rather, it’s an extension of the creation process!
In the 48-minute tutorial video Re-creating Poetry: How to Revise Poems, poets will be inspired with several ways to re-create their poems with the help of seven revision filters that they can turn to again and again.
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Here’s my attempt at a Simmer Down poem:
“Invasion”
Walt shrieked as the hatch flung open to reveal Barbara,
who said, “Calm down, calm down! It’s just me…and Eddie.”
As Barbara sat down, Eddie’s face popped in the opening
she vacated. “Nice scream,” laughed Eddie, who couldn’t
help himself, “Ahhh!” “Shut up,” snapped Walt, “at least I
don’t have some psychotic death wish.” “And I do,” smiled
Eddie as if he’d take pride in such a claim. “Not you,”
said Walt as he pointed at Marcus, “Him!” Barbara gasped,
“What do you mean?” Marcus shrugged, “I just thought we
should go check out the Carter house out by Witch’s Bend.”
Eddie jumped up and hit his head on the roof,”Holy smokes!
You ARE crazy. And I’m in.” “Wait, Eddie,” said Barbara,
“and Marcus. What the… Why?!?” Marcus looked them all
over and said, “Because I want to find Jesse Wilcox!”
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Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of the poetry collection, Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He edits Poet’s Market and Writer’s Market, in addition to writing a free weekly WritersMarket.com newsletter and a poetry column for Writer’s Digest magazine.
This is his eighth year of hosting and participating in the November PAD (Poem-A-Day) Chapbook Challenge. He can’t wait to see what everyone creates this month–not only on a day-by-day basis, but when the chapbooks start arriving in December and January. Fun, fun, fun.
Follow him on Twitter @robertleebrewer.
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November Nestling
Mother Nature’s on a rampage tonight.
Wind whips, rain pummels.
Cymbals of thunder
rattle the windows.
Lightning strobes the sky
and you and I
nestle beneath the quilt,
each of us with a book
(and a flashlight – just in case)
biding for her tantrum to subside.
“Simmer down, Jenny”
It was a refrain I heard a lot as I was growing up.
I apparently had quite a temper,
at least after five years of age, which is mainly when my memories start.
I know I got mad fast and held a grudge.
I don’t get as mad, as quickly,
but a grudge-holder I am, and probably always will be.
I think my temper was part of being a middle child.
The forgotten one.
Oh, I never heard the end of it –
My older sister was brilliant and so popular!
My little brother was so patient and good-natured.
Jenny, why can’t you …
Simmer down.
Kettle Bell
The soup’s in kettle. Rapid boil.
I’m sitting on a glowing coil.
It’s time to let the flavors merge.
Now, simmer down. I’m on the verge.
A metaphor with bubbles, steam,
and savory. That is my theme.
A pinch of this. Must watch the surge.
Now, simmer down. I’m on the verge.
The recipe is simple but
there’s nothing written down. Just what
I guess, if Gramma had the urge.
Now, simmer down. I’m on the verge.
I wonder if I’ll get it right.
Hope truth, like steam, will rise, ignite,
regarding what should soon emerge.
Now, simmer down. I’m on the verge.
###
I like it!
he wore his heart like little patches
sewn on tight to wrinkled sleeves
i wore my heart like bullet wounds
tiny holes poked through my chest
he used his heart like hot water on the stove
bubbling over at the edges of the pot
i used my heart like icicles on a roof
holding on, but ready to fall at any moment
so i guess we were both surprised
since we had always been told that opposites attract
but maybe we were just too different, like summer and winter
because our opposites never made it past a simmer
Marriage
The scent of apples, still,
long after a cast iron pot,
washed, dried, then back
into storage neatly by the
camping gear, on shelving
in the garage, has finished
its work of simmering, fruit
to butter completed, warm
fragrance of cloves and
cinnamon spice propose
to a slice of toast, a taste
joined in holy matrimony.
—Christina Perry
A Boston Yankee in Queen Hayden’s Court
He wipes his smooth, pale brow with a white hankie,
Mississippi mud caked on his loafers.
The House of Carder stands on the grassy hill
like a sentinel,
keeping vigil over the town of Hayden, Louisiana.
The hearty aroma of shrimp gumbo
hangs in the air with the humidity—
the humidity that’s like a hot towel
wrapped around his beard.
She would say it’s as hot as blue blazes,
but he’d say it’s hotter than hell on Earth,
and hell was in this here town of a few thousand souls,
most of them saved.
It is a long, long walk
up this path through purgatory—
the colonnade of Cypress trees and Spanish moss
providing a green canopy, shielding him
from the sun that beat down on him like a cruel taskmaster.
There is a stillness here;
everything moving in slow motion;
it’s like he’s traveling forward through time,
watching the past as he goes.
It is at the end of this road
that he sees her—
the sun almost making her disappear—
this golden Southern belle who rings true.
Seeing him,
she brings him from the darkness into the light,
kissing him,
rushing him into the heat of the kitchen,
where a pot of grits is about to boil over.
Her family comes out to see the Yankee oddity
with the Northern accent—
to give him a silver spoonful of Southern hospitality.
Like a scene out of a Tennessee Williams’ play,
there is bickering over grievances old and new,
the barbs flying around him
like bullets coated with maple surple;
then, quick as a hound after a fox,
everyone simmers down,
and laugh like none of it mattered at all.
Simmer Down
Chill
Hush
Relax
Cool it
Chillax
Unwind
Go easy
Cool off
Take ten
Meditate
Whatever
Step back
Easy now
Take a nap
Hang loose
Mellow out
Tranquilize
Calm down
Wind down
Settle down
Don’t panic
Take it easy
Knock it off
Don’t worry
Count to ten
Breathe easy
Take a break
Take time off
It is what it is
Cool your jets
Simmer down
Calm your tits
Take your time
Take a load off
Patch things up
Take a chill pill
Put your feet up
Control yourself
Take the edge off
Catch your breath
This too shall pass
Keep your shirt on
Go take a time-out
Take a deep breath
What’s the big deal
Give yourself credit
Get a hold of yourself
Slow down, girlfriend
Don’t worry, be happy
Time heals all wounds
Keep calm and carry on
It’s not always all about you
Don’t get your panties in a bunch
Not your circus, not your monkeys
You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Yup – I think I’ve been told every one of those at one time or another!
Calm?!
Don’t tell me to be what I know I am
I don’t have issues
I don’t have problems
I don’t have things to sort out
Simmer down?
Why, I simmer down as often as I breathe
Shooting breezes, you say I’m angry
Simple tasks, you claim I’m restless
HAVE YOU SEEN MY DEMEANOR AS OF LATE?!
AM I NOT CALM?!
Oh, now I see what you mean exactly
I saw it in my reflection the whole week past
I saw it in my eating
I saw it in my drinking
I noticed it in my thinking
I guess calm is something I need to accept then
My mood simmers
more quickly than
the pot of stew.
By the time he comes in
from doing chores
we both are boiling.
–ShennonDoah
Simmering Thoughts
She wakes each morning with a thought to pen;
write it out, her thoughts within.
Her heart simmers down as she writes to get her
thoughts out and written down.
A tear sheds as it comes to her each word that will convey how she feels and what she has to say.
The joy simmers, bubbles up and she is at
peace.
By Pamelap
“simmer down”, I said
and then I thought “why should I ?”
I’m still simmering.
Nice!
It has stayed with you, that old spark
Of justified indignation
From your happy protester days.
When we thought you should simmer down,
You knew the U.S. would collapse
If God forbid Kyoto passed,
Congress boosted the debt ceiling,
A Democrat won election.
But we are all still here and you
Still glow red at all the same times,
When too much is given or spent.
—
bethhenarywatson.com