Tag Archives: NaPoWriMo

If I Were. . . for NaPoWriMo 2024, day 18

If I Were Water and You Were Air

I used to be restless water—
only the froth and currents
of a moving life.

Now I am still water,
sinking down to where
I can be found
by anyone willing to stand quietly
and look.

Is it true that moving water never freezes?
Is it true that still waters run deep?
Is it true that we are wed in steam?

“What if, caught by air,
it never lets me go?” I ask.

“But even water
turned to air
must fall at last,” you say.

“And what if I fall farther from you?”
I say. “Or what if I never again find banks
that open to contain me?”

I used to be swift flowing water.
Now I am a pool that sinks me deeper every year.
So deep, so deep I sink
that on its way to find me,
even air may lose its way.

 

For NaPoWiMo 2024, Day 18

Interlopers, For NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 16

Interlopers

The little dog sleeps nestled.
No elbow room, even though
just two of us in this big bed.
A truck’s roar  from the road
a mile away. Last night’s near
partiers now gone to bed, but
at 5 AM, the strains of music
from below, Sounds lifting up the mountains
like clouds to float above my bed.
For 15 years, I surrendered
my side of the bed to you.
23 years after, I still
sleep on
the

                                                   other side.

For NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 16

DNA for NaPoWriMo Apr 15, 2024

DNA

A piece of you came enclosed in your letter.
Not your heart but still a part of you,
concealed as usual,
this time between the envelope and stamp—
trapped forever as the rest of you departs,
taking all of you except
for that remainder—one last kiss of tongue
before you sealed the stamp upon the envelope.

For NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 15

A Semi-Tall Tale for The. Sunday Whirl Wordle 650 and NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 12

 

 

 A Semi-Tall Story

Once upon a time, dear friends, long before creation,
the spirits of the universe formed a delegation
to invent our ancestors: the cell  and then the fish,
and eons later, they decided to fulfill the wish
of the lowly haddock to wallow in the mud
with toes and feet to stay erect while walking through the crud.
And thus was born the dinosaur, king of a twig-strewn world,
crashing through the underbrush as all it touched unfurled.

Those parts of earth unbroken eventually gave birth
to animals less violent and much smaller in girth.
Warm-blooded, they awakened to divine memory,
invented words and realized that what had come to be
was what the spirits of the universe had foreseen long ago
while looking in a crystal ball. The predicted it, and lo,
that chain occurred unbroken—ending with you and me,
sitting here upon the ledge of infinity. 

 

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 650, the prompt words are: twigs divine wake blood wallow cell memory ancestors crystal creation ledge unbroken.  I am combining this prompt with the NaPoWriMo prompt from two days ago, which I forgot to do.  The 12th prompt of the monthly series was to write a tall story. This one is only tallish as it’s based on evolution. The Spirits of the Universe might qualify as the tall part of the tale.

NaPoWriMo 2024 Day 13 Poem, In Arrears!!!!

Only after I wrote my Day 14 poem did I realize I’d missed out on days 12 and 13!  Here is my Day 13 poem, in arrears, “Playing With Rhyme.”:

Light Verse

Bitter night winds blow and flitter,
singing songs that hum along
with kerosene lamps that careen.
spilling light that fills the scene,
then joins the sunset’s streaming jet
of fire across a furry sky
of fleet clouds that hurry hurry
pursing lips to blow out  light
and give a welcoming respite
to  day’s unrelenting bright
as night contains it in its purse
and stashes it behind a wall
through which light cannot shine at all.

Then shoes of night step softly through
every midnight somber hue,
tracking light, securely trussed
into tight balls, its loud rays shushed
into small whispers, star after star,
sending it back from afar,
on footsteps constant through the night.
that regather in the morning light.

The optional prompt for the day asked us to play with rhyme. We were to start by creating a “word bank” of ten simple words. They should only have one or two syllables apiece. Five should correspond to each of the five senses (i.e., one word that is a thing you can see, one word that is a type of sound, one word that is a thing you can taste, etc). Three more should be concrete nouns of whatever character you choose (i.e., “bridge,” “sun,” “airplane,” “cat”), and the last two should be verbs. Now, come up with rhymes for each of your ten words. (If you’re having trouble coming up with rhymes, the wonderful Rhymezone is at your service). Use your expanded word-bank, with rhymes, as the seeds for your poem. Your effort doesn’t actually have to rhyme in the sense of having each line end with a rhymed word, but try to use as much soundplay in your poem as possible.

Here is my word list, to prompt. Only one— “thrust,” is no longer in the poem, replaced with  “tracking,” —a word more in keeping with the poem.

bitter  sitter twitter flitter hitter jitter litter sitter titter
song bong dong gong Kong long pong wrong tong along
kerosene obscene bean scene gene Jean keen keene lean mean peen queen seen teen wean machine
sunset bet debt fret get het jet let met net pet Aquanet set Tet vet wet
furry curry furry hurry jury surrey
purse curse hearse nurse terse verse rehearse
wall  ball call doll fall gall hall loll mall  mol  wall tall
shoe blue clue due few goo hew Jew kew loo moo new anew pew queue rue sue two to too view whew  yew zoo
thrust bust cussed dust gust lust must rust shushed trussed trust
whisper Whisker  bicker spiller thinker winter finger per were blur spur whirr

Wind–For NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 14

Wind

The breath of the world blows tendrils of hair,
turns windmills and dries white sheets upon a line.
It  twists into a tornado
and lifts a house off its foundations,
sets it down in a mountain meadow
where zephyrs stir the trees.

The breath of the world blows a bee from its branch,
inhales its pollen and puffs it into nostril hairs
that launch a hurricane of sneezes,
sending a whirlwind of powder
from a powdered sugar donut out the window
onto the shoulder of a passing immaculate black tuxedo.

The breath of the world launches sailboats,
then sends them into safe harbors as it swells into a typhoon.
As it exhales, it lifts kites high into the air
and as it inhales, sends them plummeting to earth.
It fuels our lungs to blast a wind of words: expletives or adamant prayers,
anthems or a tyrant’s raves,
benedictions or cheers for a favorite football team.

Windy cities draw their nicknames
from the breath of the world.
Wind in the Willows names our books.
Woodwinds breathe out melodies.
Wind gives a name to our direction
as we struggle windward.
Hurricanes quench our thirst in airless bars.
Breezes give monikers to our dispositions.

Whirlwind, breeze, zephyr,
hurricane, gale, draft, blow,
tornado, crosswind, cyclone—
from gentle puff to wild tornado,
it is the world’s breath
that sets everything into motion.

For Day 14 of NaPoWriMo we were to write a poem making use of anaphora.

Day’s End, NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 11, Monostich Poem

Day’s End

One more stitch in the garment of life.

 

The NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a Monostich Poem–a one-line poem. (I couldn’t resist the pun.)

“Kitchen Cruelty” For NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 10

“Woman sentenced to 5 years Expulsion from Kitchen for Cruelty to Kohlrabi”

Concerning cruelty to food, I’m worthy of your jeers.
I’ve tortured tortellini and brought green onions to tears.
I’ve chopped heads off of celery, gored eyes out of potatoes,
cut kernels off of ears of corn and boiled live tomatoes.
Shredded parmesan and Julienned countless bell peppers,
minced salmon into balls and rolled pancakes into crepers.
I’m guilty of the boiling of innocent spaghetti
and of wielding blade to chop a cabbage into fine confetti.
I am a kitchen torturer of unthinkable portions,
stretching bread dough into the most grotesque contortions.
I never met a batter that I didn’t want to beat,
so if edible, it’s best you stage a fast retreat
or in my oven or my stove, I’ll find a way to heat you,
In short, if you are edible, I”ll find a way to eat you!

For NaPoWriMo Day 10

Cold Comfort, for NaPoWriMo 2024, Day 9

Click on Photos to Enlarge.

Cold Comfort

This thermal cup was different. Things stayed cold all night through.
I liked the one that I had first, so then I bought a few.
Four cups grew to six and then finally to eight.
When I misplaced one of them, it always had a mate
waiting in my kitchen drawer, or  three or four or five.
There were always one or two remaining in their hive
when one was left out in my car, the other by my bed,
another in some restaurant  where I had been fed.

One loaned to a friend and one gone to who knows where?
Yet almost everywhere I looked, there was at least one there.
Each time I went to Walmart, I bought all that were left.
When they were discontinued, you can bet I felt bereft.
Now I’m down to six of them from ten that I have bought,
so I need to keep good track of  them—(all of them I’ve got.)
Precious dear containers that keep my ice intact—
my most dear possessions? Yes. It is a fact!!!!

 

NaPoWriMo, Day 9: Write a poem celebrating an everyday object.

Swing Shift for NaPoWriMo

Swing Shift
One thing Lynnie Brost knew for sure was when she was right.
The problem was, that her tongue
was not always adequately aligned to her head.
But she knew for sure
that my time was up
and that it was her turn next
on her favorite swing.
Her face red, hands on hips,
she demanded that I surrender my place.
“And I mean maybe!!!” she screamed
into the uncensoring air.
No other denizen of the swings
saw fit to tell her
the contradictory nature
of her emphatic statement.
Nor did I.

For Day 6 of NaPoWriMo
Image by Matthew Moloney on Unsplash