Paint Color Poetry

This is a super easy writing exercise that works for individual writers or any size group! Grab some of those free paint swatches from a hardware store and write poetry or tiny stories incorporating the names of the paint colors! We did one round where each person wrote their own piece on a single swatch, then we did a collaborative one where everyone wrote only one line at a time, then passed the swatch to the right and continued the new poem in front of them. After we did the exercise as a group the first time, I’ve since just included the leftover swatches in my picture prompts box for anyone to use for free-writing time whenever they want. Here are of our recent “Paint Color Poetry” pieces! The text is typed below each image.

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Collaboration

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She sang Rockabye Baby while she ate a frosted tulip and some salmon-flavored salmon pink salmon. Briquette took away her salmon, but Briquette’s friend threw a burnt red skateboard at her face, and the friend popped a red gumball in her mouth, and blew a big bubble like a savage.

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Collaboration

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The pretty orchid lane was where the frogs held frurch — frog church. The sky was a dusky lilac during their meetings. It was always like that. A faint, dusky, lilac haze. The blood that dripped from the flower was of purple essence. I watched a violet eclipse. Mirabella the Fairy killed it. Mirabella wore a perfectly purple dress.

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Collaboration

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Maggie’s magic is great because it’s Maggie’s magic. She cast a jade spell and changed everyone’s name to Jade. How diabolical. The flowering cactus would try to stop her, but Laurel Wreath, her only true love, could only break the spell with a kiss of true love. Little did she know, Laurel was a tiny leprechaun molester in disguise. He became a molester because he was mad because he didn’t get into an Ivy League college, and will soon seek revenge.

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Collaboration

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She was unusual, to say the least. Instead of a scarlet red, her blood was a milk paint. The blood was the consistency of heavy cream. I looked at it while I sat a sand fossil. It was seasoned with salt and spiced vinegar. It was gross. The tweed tasted good with the spiced vinegar though. She then jumped into a muddy river because she was too fabulous for da world.

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By Moose Angel

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Her name was Violet Echo. Her eyes shined in the February frost. She used paint and painted the snow a frosted lilac color. She loved silverberry. She dyed her hair a plum shade color. I think she cast a magic spell on me.

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By Twyla Rose

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The light fog surrounded the ship. Jamie was awed. It was making him sleepy, the darkness was. It was like a blue lullaby, trying to lull him to sleep. Turns out it was a lullaby, a sea sprite was floating above the water. Like discount Jesus. “Don’t let her come near the captain!” said Parakeet Pete. “She’ll steal the smokey emerald!” (The gem that they’d worked so hard to steal.) “Throw the holly leaf at her!” Jamie cried. Jamie had saved the day.

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By Ahmed Rashid

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Jimmy prepared for a feast. He picked peaches from the peach tree, got iced melons (which he called melon ice), and built a small boat made of shrimp, the S.S. Shrimp Boat. Then, D. Trump stole the orange delicacies to apply to his skin. He sailed away on the Copper River and ordered the military to burn all Chinese lanterns, and smelled the lovely orange poppy.

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By Iris Young

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Bob was bashful. His blush was diamond blue. He blushed when he saw Ariel. She looked like a beautiful horizon haze. Also like a bellflower. And Bob was the Neptune to her bellflower horizon haze.

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By Iris Young

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Gordon Ramsay liked scalloped shells. He flavored them with flamingo and peach. It smelled like a sweet angel. They looked like a coral serenade. But they were as raw as rustic pottery. So he eliminated himself and made a cinnamon stone of life.

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By Pennywise

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Everyone loves that harbor mist. It’s magical. My beach house is a place we can rendezvous, if you think it’s best to look through a kaleidoscope. Wanna eat my chinese porcelain? My favorite kool-aid is blue tang.

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Collaboration

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Ginger cream, the tastiest cream. The ginger of cream. The cream of ginger. That’s what he said. By he, I mean Brandy Alexander. Brandy Alexander was a famous strawflower gardener. he had a floral tapestry in his fabulous home. The horizon would glow a dark red as he was watering his gorgeous flowers. Brandy turned ruby red after death.

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Collaboration

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The rainbow was just perfect. The gays wont’ forgive the homophobes quickly and by that I mean ever. They went into the mysterious Misty Moor. With their gracious glow to lead them through the fog. The fog where loveliest leaves lived. They sat there in their sanctuary, their legs crossed like those of a frog.

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By Bill

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The pig was colored like a pale orchid. He was basking in the brisk lavender haze. His name flowed off Sam’s mouth like a wild lilac. Sam’s favorite flower was french violet. He smelled like purple grapes. His decomposing body turned imperial purple.

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Collaboration

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Gene the emoji smiled. He was a little slice of happy emoji. Gene’s personality was super happy. People would describe him as star bright. His twinkle toes made him squeal with delight. Not only did he get the majestic shoes, he also got to get a taste of split pea soup. He loved soup in the winter after knitting his woolen mittens by the fire. The autumn festival, he attended.

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Collaboration

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The cat wasn’t afraid of the watery blue, just cautious. But he wanted to sky dive under the water. The depths terrified him. He stood next to her, colored blue with fear. He had a symphony of blue surrounding him. While she ate her feelings along with her superstition. Her heart was black as a minecraft block of obsidian.

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Collaboration

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Smelling the precious nectar of the sea anemone made me feel special, like Romeo, until Romeo and Juliet committed ritual suicide. Ashes of Roses were burned at their funeral. A raffia cream was at the funeral, coloring their faces as to keep them safe after death. The blood that stained their clothes was earth rose. She ate brick dust.

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Copyright © 2017 by Moose Angel, Twyla Rose, Ahmed Rashid, Iris Young, Pennywise, Bill, Fatimah Rashid, & Oliver Brexton. All rights reserved.

 

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Collaborative Poetry

This week at writing club, we wrote some poetry together! In an effort to come up with some things to print in our August library bulletin, the theme was ECLIPSES, in honor of Eclipse Day coming up on August 21! This is a super easy group writing exercise that often creates really fun and unique writing pieces. Each member of your group just needs a sheet of paper and a pen. Pick a theme or word to get everyone started. (We broadened our theme to include anything related to space, the sun or moon, planets, etc.) Everyone takes about thirty seconds to write the first line of a poem. Then everyone passes their paper to the left and continues the poem on the new sheet in front of them. Continue this until you pass as many times as there are people in the group, making sure to let everyone know when it’s the last pass so they can wrap up the poem with an ending. Some might be silly or not make much sense, but sometimes you get a few truly beautiful gems! Either way, it’s a great brain work-out to come up with short lines quickly and to build on what others have started! Here are our poems from this week!

Space is a being that has been feared, loved, and explored.
It never quits expanding, for it must make more.
Farther and farther, longer and longer,
One could never explore it all.
Endless energy passes through every bit of matter.
And endless energy passes through all its inhabitants.
And endless energy passes through all its types of energy as well.
Energy and matter pass through the whole galaxy.
But is there an end in it, in which the energy disappears?
Perhaps we shall never know, but wondering is magical.

This huge space, we’re so small.
And yet we can make actions so big.
Though sometimes the smallest actions are the biggest of all.
And the smallest of things can change it all.
Never discovering it all, forever wondering.
But for all we know, our space could contain infinite existence.
Though this may be true, we may never know why.
All we know is we can find it if we try.

Bright stars
Silver night
Sky turn black as we near twilight
Moon becomes a crescent as we approach nighttime
Straining eyes for a sliver of light
Searching for stars, but Venus is the first to peek between the curtain
Beautiful, ethereal, fiery goddess
So lovely, yet so dangerous
All seems dark, but there is light

The universe is all so vast, ever expanding.
Billions of stars, planets, asteroids… dancing, crashing, flying.
Dancing across the cosmos in an endless streaming ballet.
Lucky for them, I know not how to dance, yet I can try.
Dreaming and leaping and dancing, through the galaxy I fly.
I hope one day I shall be able to sway with the stars and jig with the asteroids.
But the only way I could do that is if I was an interstellar object, and I’m not.
So I should wish upon a star.
I may never be able to do these achievements, but the universe is still big.

Spirits staring down at me.
With large, gassy, fiery, star-like eyes.
I am enveloped in light, I’ve never felt more seen.
I am intimidated; eye contact is uncomfortable.
The universe’s eyes bore through me.
Energy of this being takes control of me.
It is like a doctor’s visit, being poked and prodded and examined.
But this examiner is good, for once the stars think I’m cool to hang with them.

In an infinite universe, you are only a small piece of the puzzle.
Only when it’s put together can the big picture be seen.
One by one, over the years, fitting together.
It’s so close to being finished, but not close enough.
If only we could speed up the process.
Or we could patiently wait for the universe to do it on its own.
Maybe there are lost pieces stuck in oblivion.
The piece that is me seems insignificant, yet without it the puzzle would be incomplete.

Perpetually celestial.
Could there be beings above, watching us?
Possibly the galaxy’s guardian angels?
Is there a god who chooses our fates?
I stare at the stars and wonder
Of all the things that have ever existed
And all the things still yet to be
How did I end up here and now?
How could this vast universe have created me?
Forever questions
I suppose we will never know

Oh beautiful space (or ugly… I have never seen space)
But maybe aliens have (or not)
Maybe they have done amazing things (or maybe they’re dumb)
Or maybe their conspiring against the humans—US.
Or maybe they are helping us.
Maybe they are not so bad (or good)
Maybe they just want to learn (or maybe they don’t even care)
Sometimes I wish they would take me away on space vacation.
Yet somehow when I wish for them the most, they never seem to be there.
Oh beings of space, take me away from here!
(Or don’t, I don’t really care.)

Copyright © 2017 by Ahmed Rashid, Amberly, Angela Solon, Angie Tonucci, Elizabeth Trader, Fatima Rashid, Iris Young, Lea, & Twyla Rose. All rights reserved.

Collaborative Stories

At Imaginators Teen Creative Writing Club, we LOVE working on writing exercises and collaborating on fun, silly stories! A few weeks ago, we did a simple exercise using only pens and scrap paper. This works well for a group size of 5-8 people, and it’s a great warm-up to get those creative juices flowing. Everyone starts with a sheet of paper and a pen. (If writing prompts are needed, you can have each person draw a word or two from a prepared box or use story cubes.) Have each person write one sentence at the top of their paper to start a story. When finished, everyone simply passes their paper to the right, and adds a sentence to the new story in front of them! Play continues around the circle until you decide you’re ready to add the endings, usually 8-10 passes, but you can go on as long as you want! Here are some of our stories from our last collaboration.

“Once there was a super friendly safari burrito that loved fried chicken. Its favorite type of fried chicken was Mexican KFC. One day the Mexican KFC was closed. This caused the safari burrito to become unfriendly. The safari burrito barged into the company’s kitchen and demanded some chicken. He grabbed Colonel Sanders and held him at gunpoint. The Colonel demanded to be released, but the safari burrito would have none of it. It was a question of honor. And of chicken. At that moment two tacos walked in and the burrito was so surprised, he jumped and dropped his gun. He was so enamored by one of the tacos, that he fell in love. The safari burrito forgot all about his chicken, and he married the girl taco, and they lived happily ever after.”

“The courtroom was silent. Everyone in the jury box was focused on the man on the witness stand. He looked weary. The prosecutor asked again, ‘How did you kill him?’ After a pause, the man said, ‘A paintbrush.’ Looks of shock appeared on everyone in the room. One lady, a tall, elegant woman in a purple hat, fainted onto the floor. The man came up to her and painted her face with a burrito. But the jury hated burritos, so they immediately gave the man the death penalty: hanging with a noose made of toenails. The man begged and begged not to die. All he wanted to do was express his artistic views. He looked up with regret. ‘It was a mistake,’ he said. ‘A mistake?!’ the judge cried, outraged. ‘There are no mistakes in art! Only happy accidents.'”

“There are lots of times when it would be bad for your zipper to go crazy. But the worst time is probably at your Great Aunt Mildred’s funeral. When the zipper broke, its remains zoomed in the air and flew into Great Aunt Mildred’s coffin. Suddenly, we heard a cough from the coffin. Great Aunt Mildred slowly rose up and faced me. The whole funeral was chaos, and I got trampled and was left groaning on the floor. Great Aunt Mildred’s gnarled and crooked finger stretched accusingly toward me. ‘X…Y…Z…’ she groaned. My eyes wide with horror, I looked slowly from Great Aunt Mildred’s frozen stare to my pants. Down went my zipper, then up, then down again. It had gone berserk, just like Great Aunt Mildred!”

“A hairy banana lived on his beautiful home, an asteroid. But one day, it started hurtling toward the earth and the heat singed his hair. As the surface of the asteroid heated up, he wondered if he ought to peel himself. But he decided his thick, hairy peel would protect him from the flames. ‘Weeeeeeee!’ he shouted as the asteroid broke through the clouds. Before he landed, he saw a friendly burrito eating fried chicken. But the chicken exploded. The hairy banana was amazed, but scared, but mostly amazed at the fried chicken exploding. He wished he was a beautiful exploding specimen of edible material! The hairy banana crashed down to the land, yet he was alive thanks to his banana peel armor.”