Polarity

a writing prompt and poetry collab

polarity:

the state of having two opposite or contrasting tendencies, principles, or charges.

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The Prompt:

Quite a few weeks back, Olly von mentioned writing often about water; to which I said, “that’s funny, I write a lot about sand, but never water.” So we decided to try swapping themes.

We quickly realized how surprisingly challenging it was to identify our go-to themes, and try to write their opposite.

So with this prompt, we are asking you to do just that.

Reflect on your own work and try to identify a recurring theme, image, emotion, setting, symbol; anything that seems to follow you through your art.

Then create something which revolves around its polar opposite.

It doesn’t have to be the exact inverse, but it should be something that pushes against your usual instincts.

Your response to this prompt could be poetry, fiction, visual art, photography, music… really whatever you like.

Below are the poems we wrote using each other’s themes: water and sand.

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Sand (by Olly von)

There is an hourglass in my therapist’s office.

When the conversation goes deep

I go inside.

I am in the desert and it’s raining sand.

There is nothing for miles

only heat, blooming on my face.

To ensure her reasoning is properly muffled

I dig both hands into the clay to

make sculptures of my ears.

I cannot let her voice sift through my conscience.

We are under attack

Build up the castle wall

Raise the draw bridge.

I can feel the grit, a grating irritation beneath my eyelids.

Where she says, “see the truth of things.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

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water (by voidlight alchemy (em))

paleontologists found whales in the sahara.

they used to live on land, and

i wonder how long they danced along the shore, before

they let their feet touch the water.

•♄•

the water. i have been holding my breath—

just beneath,

and the surface tension encircles my crown;

how ironic, in an ocean full of life,

i can’t help but wonder if i may drown;

trying to float my way back to a time

when my mother would say “put your ears under and listen,”

and i would dissolve into peace.

so when did i evolve to deny release?

though it plumps my skin and soaks my hair—

why does the water feel far away?

i long for hydration that doesn’t feel dry,

and i miss the days when I used to believe

showers would fix everything,

and my horizon always touched the water.

perhaps there’s still a place for my heart at sea—

so that it may be carried gently by the waves;

but as ancient whales were, i feel certain,

my bones belong to the driest grave.

We hope this prompt inspires you, and we look forward to reading all of your responses 🖤