Tag Archives: NaPoWri

Plumming Issues

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Plumming Issues

Plumming Issues

My disgruntled spouse surveyed the plum,
squeezed it between palm and thumb,
saw that there were plenty more
in the tree that grew next door,
and though the crop was most abundant,
merely saw it as redundant.

There were no grapes for him to filch.
Bananas? It had proffered zilch.
No oranges or apples to
seed and peel and slice and chew.
No limes or lemons to produce
a glass of fresh-squeezed zesty juice.

It made him sad and rather glum
to see plum after purple plum
hung on the tree. Could I dispute
his  claim that we’d have to commute
to steal instead various fruit?
I felt his argument was moot.

One must make do with what might come.
The progeny of plum was plum.
If he required figs or berries,
peaches, kiwi fruit or cherries,
he’d have to head out to the store
or plant a a dozen trees or more.

He’d have to mulch and trim and spray,
water every other day,
and wait for years for fruit to grow,
but he was hungry now and so
he went outside and picked him some
plum after plum and plum and plum.

For NaPoWriMo 2023,Day 17

Heart’s Eye, NaPoWriMo 2021, Day 27

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NaPoWriMo’s assignment for today was to find a word in The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows and to use it to prompt a poem. I chose the word “vellichor.” Here is its definition:
n. the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time—filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.

Since I wrote a poem about vellichor just two months ago, I’m reblogging it here.


Heart’s Eye

Who can pass a bookstore door
and fail to note the vellichor
or fail to feel within their heart
the message of a piece of art?
A  poignant poem or pithy quote,
well-loved and thereby learned by rote,
is a means by which we might denote
that part of us that we devote
to what we can’t repudiate—
that part of us that is a gate 
to a special way of seeing—
the heart’s eye of a human being.

 

Here is the link to The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.

Here is the link to today’s NaPoWriMo’s prompt.

Fame––NaPoWriMo 2016, Day 3

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DSC09086

Fame

People become heroes due to leading or resisting,
whereas ordinary people have their hands full just existing.
But lately it occurs to me that people are reacting
less to who folks really are and more to how they’re acting.
To be best at anything I know would be exciting––
to earn world renown due to one’s politics or writing;
but if I had the time and nerve to simply write and ask
how each famous person really feels behind the mask
of notoriety and fame whereon they look so snappy,
the question I would ask each one is, “Are you really happy?”

Would Robin Williams tell the truth faced with this request––
or any of the others who respond at my behest?
Michael Jackson, Carly Simon, Liberace, Yeats?
All the angry politicians railing in debates?
Did Jackie Kennedy love her life? Did Natalie Wood?  Does Cher?
How does the Royal family feel faced with the world’s rude stare?
Is Dave Chappelle gleeful? Is Obama happiest for
his entrance to the White House or his walking out the door?
I can’t imagine dealing with the constant wild attention––
love offset  by hating, admiration with contention.

Is all this gross celebrity a cause for celebration?
Does it make you happy to stand up before our nation
and have some people cheering you and others rudely booing?
Do you ever wonder what it is that you are doing?
Do teenagers stalking you, waiting round every bend
make a rock star happy? Does he wish it all would end?
I know the question’s obvious as well as rude and lame,
but if you did it over, would you still go for the fame?
Are the cheering jeering crowds still fuel for your vanity
Or would you rather trade them in for simple life––and sanity?

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem in the form of a fan letter to a celebrity.
http://www.napowrimo.net/