Bottles & Cans: A Playlist and Poetry Prompt

Summer is cold drinks in bottles (and silvery cans). For some, it is camping and eating straight out of the pork ‘n beans can. Summer is love. And sometimes it is the ache of lost love.

What better time to pull out a Bottled and Canned playlist and pen a poem? Check out our August Bottled & Canned songs and try your hand at a…

Poetry Prompt

Choose a bottle or can (Snapple? Coca Cola? Campbell’s Chicken Soup?) and open it in a poem. How does the bottle or can feel? What does it look like? What sound does it make, and why have you chosen to open it? Are you sharing it with someone, or is this a solitude moment?

Thanks to our participants in last week’s poetry prompt. Here’s a poem we enjoyed from Donna Falcone, who tried out one of our recent prompts:

Vinyl Virgin

it was my first time – i
bought it
with my
50 cents an hour
collected
in the jar in my room

I shamelessly paraded
barefooted and bold
belting out
spill the wine
at the top
of my 12 year old lungs
turning heads
and blushing their faces
as I broadcast words that meant nothing to me
because i only heard smooth tones
and a breezy beat and
felt the melty notes
sliding up my throat
on their way back into the atmosphere

—Donna Falcone

Photo by Ian Mutto, Creative Commons license via Flickr.

Sometimes we feature your poems in Every Day Poems, with your permission of course. Thanks for writing with us!

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Every Day Poems Driftwood

Buy a year of Every Day Poems, just $5.99 — Read a poem a day, become a better poet. In August we’re exploring the theme Bottled & Canned.

Comments

  1. Richard Maxson says

    Pinot Noir

    Perhaps it is your color,
    roses and blackberries,
    of the warm nights,
    the young vintner
    in the field with his love,
    the body’s blush rising
    into the dry air, flesh
    ripe and taut beneath
    the spare dress,
    the press of skin—
    Ah! the sighs, the aroma
    of love, disrobed
    along my tongue, tasting
    even moonlight.

  2. says

    Canned Hands

    We played with the long green veins
    In church
    Ran our fingers down and up
    While he preached the sermon
    Children, restless
    Intrigued by the vessels big and raised
    Called them worms
    Back in the days
    Of her youth and ours
    Now she reaches out for me
    I count on them to be there
    WIsh I could bottle it up
    Or can it, place it on the top shelf
    That warm feeling
    We knit fingers, grasp and clasp
    I want to save those ten digits, flesh and bone
    Preserve the love found in them
    Can the goodness
    Preserve her love
    Better than any bottled potions that the Rite Aid sells
    A mother
    And her aging love, suspended in time
    Held

    • Donna says

      Oh. So beautiful. And, the way I see it, so well preserved (an now additionally, because of this poem). Thank you for sharing this…

Trackbacks

  1. […] Where else on the Internet will you find a brand new poetry-themed playlist every single month? If we’re writing ghazals this month, we’ll give you a ghazal playlist. If we’re writing cat poems, we’ll give you a cat playlist. If we’re writing poems about Spam, well, we’ll just write poems about bottles and cans — and give you a bottled and canned playlist. […]

  2. […] Where else on the Internet will you find a brand new poetry-themed playlist every single month? If we’re writing ghazals this month, we’ll give you a ghazal playlist. If we’re writing cat poems, we’ll give you a cat playlist. If we’re writing poems about Spam, well, we’ll just write poems about bottles and cans — and give you a bottled and canned playlist. […]

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