WITHER GOEST THOU KEVIN BACON? – PROMPT #23

Kevin Bacon

The Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon is a trivia game based on the concept that any individual can be linked through their film roles to Kevin Bacon. This week we are not asking you to write a poem about Kevin Bacon. But we are connecting all of your poems by these six words: lonely, energy, headlines, wander, music and joke. Use these six words in your poem; you’ll only be separated by your muse.

Marie’s Effort:

UNTITLED

For the first time in my life, I know
What loneliness feels like.
Sounds like.
Tastes like.
Nervous energy follows wanderlust.
Dismal music accompanies ominous headlines
That play as a round in my psyche,
And leave a peculiar tang on my lips.
I discharge a recurrent mechanical laugh…
Everything is a joke.

Walt’s Degree:

LOOKING FOR THE TRUTH

If you search the headlines
you know it’s not a joke.
Don’t waste your energy,
The answers are in the music.
The lovers who wander
are the only lonely people.

50 thoughts on “WITHER GOEST THOU KEVIN BACON? – PROMPT #23

  1. Curling Crepe Paper

    My last evening energy,
    wasted on wishing
    for your cryptic call.

    Tonight I sway my skirt,
    a subtle slippery wave
    willing you to wander by.

    Yet no tap settles on my shoulder,
    no lonely dashing dancer
    coming to cut in.

    I’ll be the juicy joke,
    the horrid headline
    in tomorrow’s tell-tale paper.

    Yet tonight I tempt,
    my princess parade wave
    lost in your laughter.

  2. Pingback: Another wordle? | Vivinfrance's Blog

  3. Is this a cruel joke?
    I don’t have the energy
    to write verse today.

    I wander about
    lonely in this no-man’s-land
    of forced poesy.

    Musical poems
    catch the headlines with their songs.
    Today I have none.

    • Not at all, Viv, but thanks for asking. So sweet of you! This prompt stole my muse and dragged her to a lonely place.

      meg

  4. Meeting Robert Lee Brewer

    I wander into the bookstore
    alone, but not lonely
    anxious, but not nervous;
    energy has driven me miles

    yet the ambiance is the same
    as Saturday hustles and bustles;
    cash registers cling, music drifts
    aromatic coffee becomes a magnet

    and I am reading the headlines
    waiting for a grande mocha
    until I ask, “Where’s the poetry reading?”
    a crooked finger points, I follow its lead

    to Robert Lee Brewer
    no trick, nor joke– a treat
    four hours, a poetry buffet
    (and he encourages me to read).

  5. SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!

    As I wander lonely
    through the headlines,
    I finally realize
    That Lady Gaga’s music
    Is more than a joke.
    It is the reality we find
    in the news everyday.
    I wish I had the energy to care.

  6. Poetic Reports

    My eyes wander over the headlines
    of the local paper looking for words
    which capture the energy, the music,
    the loneliness, the joke of life.
    None do. Wouldn’t it be nice
    if poets reported the news?

  7. Okay guys and gals, this is my first attempt in a while, so be kind.

    Following The Urge

    We allowed the energy of our Muse
    To take us far and wide in search
    Of weekly headlines for our readers.
    We found how lonely empty miles can be
    When one wanders without home or roots.
    The joke turned on us as Nature’s
    Weather symphany ebbed and flowed
    Through the notes of Winter’s concert.

  8. from Bad to Verse

    Her headlines
    are lonely
    missing
    energy and music
    the fruity filling in between.
    Words wander off.
    Muse is MIA, a joke.
    Is her poem button broke?

  9. Celebrate Life

    No time to be lonely
    as a cover-band headlines.
    Music thumps in my ears
    the beat energizing,
    propelling me
    into the scene.
    I wander the room
    hang on each word,
    comment, and joke;
    tomorrow may be my last
    so tonight I live life to its most.

    Newspaper Hoarder Buried Alive

    She read the headlines each day
    though sometimes she wished she hadn’t,
    wandering through stories illuminating loneliness:
    someone shot, someone left,
    someone took, or someone kept,
    a joke gone awry leaving a mother
    to mourn and cry.
    She could almost hear the ominous tone
    like music from a horror movie
    dangers foretold.
    She read the headlines each day
    and in her house she decided to stay.

  10. Missing the Point

    I wandered into the middle of a joke.

    You know how that can be.
    Everyone is laughing; you’re the only one
    who doesn’t get the punchline.

    So then I remembered an old line
    about puberty – about the time in life when
    you laugh at dirty jokes you don’t understand.

    But that’s not me. I’m way past that era.

    I figured it all was because I missed the beginning
    of the story…something about a tragic headline.
    You know there will be jokes
    but how can that be funny?
    Then I thought, even if I did come in at the start,
    would it really make me want to laugh?

    I mean, here’s the point:
    do you
    ever hear different music
    than everyone else hears?

    I do.

    I don’t feel lonely about it
    since it’s all I know,
    but I didn’t want to bring down the party
    so I laughed with great gusto and energy
    just like everyone else.

    Does that mean I’m still at puberty?

    ###

  11. My Career Path

    It can be lonely writing headlines.
    You wander from story to story,
    spending all your energy
    on a big joke…should have stayed
    in music!

  12. As usual, JANE SHLENSKY’s muse responded to the prompt with more than one creative take on the prompt. :) Personally, I love them all, but especially #1. Jane says there is a story behind her own favorite (#3): “I like the 3rd best, a reminder of walking across a campus in Shanghai years ago and listening to the music students rehearse out their open windows. You don’t expect to hear an Italian opera being sung by a Chinese student, which heightened that experience for me.”

    (1)
    Music has its own lonely, lovely energy
    that wanders a person’s deeps,
    that smoothes the headlines of world noise
    away on a sweet crescendo
    and makes of human desires a joke.

    (2)
    He reads the headlines first,
    a lonely habit, to judge
    the world’s state for each day,
    wandering from page to page,
    alarm to alarm,
    until he hardly has
    the energy to embrace
    the lift and lull of music
    or to laugh at a joke.

    (3)
    Opera music wandered across the strand,
    changing the energy of all
    who walked those streets,
    making the lonely linger,
    the joker sigh and listen,
    the headlines of the day
    unimportant.

  13. College money (an octain refrain)

    There’s bacon frying on the grill,
    fresh eggs, a fractious coffee pot.
    The jazz-cat music and the hot
    breeze sap your energy. You fill
    a lonely cup and wander up
    to joke and read the headlines. Still,
    you can’t escape. Like it or not,
    there’s bacon frying on the grill.

  14. There is an energy in lonely.
    A soft, soulfull music
    which cries and breaks
    so loudly,
    yet is only heard by one.
    It is late nights,
    spent wandering
    dark, cold streets,
    making pitiful jokes
    which no one hears.
    Reading newspaper headlines
    through the glass
    of a shop window,
    trying to connect
    this world with that
    while knowing
    this ache inside
    renders that world
    meaningless.

  15. LIfe Melodies

    Music sings memories, engaging
    your mind to wander
    back in time when the only
    headlines that mattered
    were the ones you created.
    You soared on wings
    of energy, and laughed
    at the joke of ever winding
    up aged, with the possibility
    of life running past
    all the stages you acted
    upon, leaving you lonely,
    humming old tunes.

  16. Pingback: BROKEN | The Poet's Quill

  17. BROKEN
    by Mike Patrick

    In a funk, he wanders the street,
    lonely, living on old headlines,
    hoping someone will recognize him.
    His music is gone now, forgotten.
    There are no adoring crowds,
    no paparazzi trailing behind.
    The energy he generated
    has dissipated.
    His name is not even a joke,
    it is forgotten,
    an unvisited page of Wikipedia.

  18. A Heart-to-Heart

    If home is where the heart is,
    then is a heartless man homeless,
    and a homeless man heartless.

    And so, I asked him

    this homeless man who was cold
    and lonely, sleeping in a foetal curl
    below a slatted bench. Was this man
    heartless from lack of home and hearth.

    Does his heart wander through dark
    leaf-strewn paths, searching bushes,
    seeking shelter, a home, picking
    at food discarded, bits of crusts, crinkled
    pickles, a suggestion of meat, anything
    to restore his energy for another
    night. He walks the shadows behind
    the mission’s cafe where music

    bounces into the alley along
    with tattered drunks from the tavern
    next door. Another night under a bench,
    newspapers tucked down his shirt

    and a double layer over his chest.
    The broadsheet headlines facing him
    so he can read what he calls the comics.
    He loves a good joke.

    And so, he replied

    If home is where the heart is,
    Then have a heart for this man.

  19. Pingback: A Heart-to-Heart « Miskmask

  20. Imagine in the future Kevin Bacon has become one with Reverend Spooner and Mrs Malaprop.

    I’m making myself work on revision this month. One thing I’m doing is taking poems that seem to need “something” and packing them full of new words, then coming back later to take out some of both old and new. So here’s an old fragment with your words added.

    In the Condo’s Granite Kitchen

    lonely in another place 
    she might have dreamed
    incising boars and tortoises into the leaves of palms,
    or tapping hardened wood drums with steel-tipped
    fingers, energy humming while she made daily art
    in another life she might create unpolished paper 
    from lavender, the skins of onions, the music fallen 
    from spine-broken hymnals,  
    and marigold petals.

    In the condo’s granite kitchen, she pulls fresh sheets from the dryer
    imagines
    draping sheets on lines in the wind to dry, or on rosemary warm in the sun
    imagines
    she wrote love poems in milk, 
    jokes in lemon, headlines in the blood of onions and folded them all
    into gliders three or ten or forty-seven,
    launched them,
    from the white iron chair by the balcony rail to wander the world
    in her place.

  21. It Had Been

    his energy waned
    he was fearful
    he didn’t mind being alone
    except that he was lonely now
    it hadn’t always been this way

    he had lived a life of adventure
    his face had known many smiles
    he had myriad loves
    he could play music and jokes
    it had been that way for a long time

    he had wandered
    and been lost
    had looked for signs in headlines
    and slept on concrete
    it had been that way for too long

    he regretted leaving the church
    he remembered the circle of love there
    he hoped the philosophy he’d cobbled together
    would hold him in his final days

    it had been his way
    he just hoped it was the right one

    / / /

    Combined these words with the dozen from The Sunday Whirl. Also at Sadly Waiting for Recess.

    Richard

    • How very impressive, to combine so many mandatory words to create a cohesive piece that speaks volumes.

      meg

  22. As My Mind Wanders…

    I read the headlines
    but not the words

    I hear the music
    but not the song

    I hear the laughter
    but not the joke

    it takes more energy
    than this lonely, broken heart can spare

    2011-10-05
    P. Wanken

  23. Pingback: As My Mind Wanders… « echoes from the silence

  24. NOWADAYS

    He’s tired of being lonely.
    It takes a lot of energy
    to keep everyone away.
    He sits alone behind stained
    roller shades, wrestling
    with a newspaper. The headlines

    about someone he doesn’t know.
    Some guy who suffered wanderlust,
    strolling in and out of town,
    playing music on his guitar
    for pennies pitched in his direction.
    Wanderlust got him in the end,

    the police said. Outside on the street
    a girl and boy exchange kisses
    and laugh. He assumes they’ve shared
    a joke at someone else’s
    expense ’cause that’s the way it is
    nowadays.

  25. Six Degrees of Separation

    The headlines read of wicked Wall Street greed.
    The music soothed another kind of need.
    His heart was for her as his one and only.
    Together, yet still separate made them lonely.
    No joke, those souls were cast from far out yonder.
    With blinders on they’d blink but would not wander.

    By Michael Grove

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