Tag Archives: NaPoWriMo

Panegyric for Pachyderm: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 11

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Panegyric for Pachyderm

Which one among us says I can’t
eulogize an elephant?
Oh thou of ears floppily gray,
of thee I have so much to say.

Words invented will not do.
I have to coin new words for you.
Your skin, in fact, is so abundant
that I must call you epibundant.

And other words unbunkable?
Tuskidopherous and trunkable.
Unchallenged monarch of the zoo,
parades aren’t complete without you.

Your trumpet fills the savanna air
to tell the world that you are there.
Rip Van Wrinkle might better name
thee, monarch of the great untame!

And though by any other term,
loxodonta or pachyderm,
we do not know thee quite as well.
in size and fame, you still excel.

 

For NaPoWriMo Day 11, we are to write a poem about a very large thing. And yes, that is me on the back of that elephant!

Shards: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 9

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Shards

Plates crashing against the wall: mneumonic reminders of you.
Nobody does better this contradiction of wedding vows.
Pushed to the brink, you speak back
in this, your own special Braille.
Our wedding cup—my heart
shattered against the wall—
a ragged souvenir
of broken
vows.

 

For NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 9 the prompt is to write a Nonet. But, after writing this, I realized I did it wrong, counting words instead of syllables. See my rewrite HERE.

Other prompts used in this post are plate,  nobody, brink, mnemonic and contradiction.

Alter Ego: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 8

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Alter Ego

Sometimes she’s  an angel. At other times a witch.
There is no way to know when her personae’s going to switch.
When an angel, she’s gregarious, obedient and sexy,
but during her more bitchy days, she’s silent, dark and hexy.
No x-ray can determine which one she’s going to be.
There is no test to indicate which one she’s going to see
when she wakes up each morning and stumbles to the mirror
to discover which she’ll be today–the feared one or the dearer.
I’m always the first one to see what side of her will win,
for each day the face she chooses is the one that I’ll be in!

 

The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to name your alter-ego, and then describe him/her in detail. Then write in your alter-ego’s voice. Maybe your alter-ego is a streetwise detective, or a superhero, or a very small goldfinch. Whoever or whatever your alternate self may be, I hope this prompt lets you stretch both your writing skills and your self-knowledge.

A Bird in the Hand: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 7

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A Bird in the Hand

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” a psychic said to me.
Then my psychiatrist said the same, but for a bigger fee.
When people preach to me like this, I get set in my ways.
I’m never going to take advice from folks who spout clichés!
The birds that I’ve had in my hand number very few.
I can’t recall a single time I combed a bush for two.

And so although I know in fact a proverb is not literal,
and that allusions to two birds are very likely clitoral,
still I’m loathe to think in adages as others do.
I have no wish to take a walk in any other’s shoe.
I’ve never thought the grass was greener in my neighbor’s yard.
And spouting other people’s words does not make you a bard.

I don’t think cleverness with words need make us any wiser.
If my neighbor’s lawn is greener, I’ll use more fertilizer.
So please don’t give me your advice using hackneyed phrases.
For all this glib advice just sorta puts me into dazes.
And if you simply must advise, my character to hone,
please do me a favor and use words of your own!!!

 

The prompt for NaPoWriMo today is to write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying. They say that “all cats are black at midnight,” but really? Surely some of them remain striped. And maybe there is an ill wind that blows some good. Perhaps that wind just has some mild dyspepsia.  Whatever phrase you pick, I hope you have fun complicating its simplicity. Happy writing!

Wan Skies NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 6.

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Wan Skies

Why do the clouds obscure the sun
so we must cancel all our fun?
Pale skies are not the stuff of dreams
and contradict our pleasure schemes.
Wan days, dark nights close like a fist—
fond hopes of love and being kissed.
Lover thus fading into mist.

For NaPoWriMo Day 6 we were to write a poem where the first word of each line forms a famous quote or line from a poem. Read the first word of each line to see the quote.

The Confessions of Catwoman: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 5

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The Confessions of Catwoman

What’s happening tomorrow?
the same thing that happens every Friday
since I was forced into retirement last year.
I’m going to go make my collections.
It will be my first day off the diet
I’ve been on for a week––
and my leathers aren’t at all as close-fitting
as they were before,
so I deserve a small reward.

That diet was low-protein, low carb and low fat,
which left nothing but grass, right?
And the problem with that was that everyone thought I was sick
and so tried to trick me into a dose of this or that.
The cod liver oil wasn’t bad,
but I’ve never developed a taste for Pepto Bismol.
A neighbor lady once sneaked some into my cream
and I gagged so hard I coughed up a hare-ball—
just the nose and whiskers, actually, but it created a sensation, nonetheless.
I was at a party and no one was yet drunk enough
to take it in their stride.

I’ve washed my hair—
Well, no surprise. I do every day.
A bit OCD on that activity,
but today I washed all of me.
Every inch.
Ears, too.

I can’t remember when I first thought
of the lucrative business
I’ve been opurrrrrrrating since my retirement;
but I do remember that tomorrow is the day
I go from door-to-door doing collections.

I usually dress in leathers,
which I look pretty good in for a mature sex-kitten.
No, not a biker chick.
I am more of a femme fatale
with a haunting and mesmerizing voice
everyone says sends chills down their back—
a sort of backyard Les Mis.

I’m a night person.
I sleep for most of the day
and go out every night.
I park my Catmobile,
then take shortcuts: leaping over walls,
soft-toeing it along the top edges of fences.

Sometimes I crouch in the bushes,
waiting for strangers to pass.
As I do, I sharpen my fingernails—
a weapon no one can take away from me.
Anyway, what good would a gun be
for a woman with no opposable thumbs?
Hey. Don’t feel sorry for me, okay?
I’m puurrrrrfectly happy with my lot in life.
I’m puurrrrfect without them.

I am sexy, fit and nimble.
I fill out my leathers in all the right places.
I can jump to the ground from a rooftop,
land on my feet and be off before you see
any more of me than a shadow.
I am a thief by birth and inclination, and I
I pre”fur” my daily fare to be purrrrrrloined.

I can take swift revenge and kill mercilessly,
or curl up and enjoy
a long petting session,
as docile as you please.

Actually, I don’t know why I’m giving you this sales pitch.
I usually ignore people,
so when I actually notice them,
they are honored.

Anyway, I’ve gotten distracted.
I’m just going to smooth my hair a bit
and then go to bed and get rested up
for tomorrow’s collections.
What kind of brilliant feline was I to create a job for myself like this?
“Cat Woman Pest Disposal––You trap them, we collect them.”

I actually get paid for going from door to door,
collecting a course here and a course there.
No of course, no matter how hungry I am after my week’s fast,
I will not reward myself in my client’s presence.
I always wait until I get to my catmobile to have my first nibble.
After all, even a retired superheroine has to watch her image.

The prompt in day 5 of NaPoWriMo is to write a poem about a mythical person or creature doing something unusual – or at least something that seems unusual in relation to that person/creature. 

How to Write a Poem

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How to Write a Poem

Only a fool waits for a poem to come to him.
You have to call for it like a proper blind date,
knocking on its door
and seeing beauty in whatever opens it.

Take it dancing.
Twirl it around the floor,
letting words fly off in all directions.

Leave what flutters off alone.
Someone else will pick it up
and dance with it.
No word is a wallflower,
although some are chosen more frequently to dance.
Those are the words to avoid.
 
Do not always choose the prettiest words.
In the dance of the poem,
the ugliest of words acquire a charm.

Do not insist that you yourself lead.
Let the poem, instead, draw you
off the dance floor,
out the door
and down the path
to deep woods
where all the wild words live.

Gather them in bouquets
or weave them into chains
to crown your head––
that head of the poet
who follows where the poems go
and collects them by armfuls to share with the world.

Our Day 4 NaPoWriMo assignment was to write a poem in the form of a prompt.

Teenage Lotharios at the Dance: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 3: The Glosa

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they speak whatever’s on their mind
they do whatever’s in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance.
*– e. e. cummings

Teenage Lotharios at the Dance

Along the gym wall they are lined.
These young men of the teen-aged kind
are young and beautifully designed,
but they aren’t subtle, and they aren’t kind.
They speak whatever’s on their mind.

They pose, they preen, they strut, they prance.
They walk by girls and joke and glance,
at intermission make their advance 
and if they score a date, perchance,
they do whatever’s in their pants

For them, romance is a slow grind.
For years, they’ve plotted and they’ve pined.
so after  girls are wooed and wined,
it’s very likely they will find
the boys I mean are not refined.

But, if girls can put up with their rants,
beguile the knight, repel his lance,
 stay firm in their “wont’s” and “cant’s.”
and get them back inside, by chance,
they shake the mountains when they dance.

 

 

 

The prompt for NaPoWriMo today is to write a Glose or Glosa Poem.The glose or glosa is an interesting Spanish form. The basic premise is that you quote four lines of poetry as an epigraph from another poem or poet. These four lines act as a refrain in the final line of the four stanzas written by the poet. So the first line of the epigraph would be the final line of the first stanza, the second line ends the second stanza, etc.

The most common convention is for each of these stanzas to be ten lines in length, but NaPoWriMo is not holding us to this rule. There are no other hard and fast rules for rhymes or syllables, though line length is usually consistent within the poem (so the epigraph kind of sets the line length).

*From “the boys i mean are not refined” by e. e. cummings:

Everyday Love Story

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Everyday Love Story

Your hair tasseled by your restless sleep,
you hover on the cusp of dreams.
The conspiracy  of morning tumbles your consciousness,
so you flounder somewhere between perception and fantasy.
How can I express the difference you have brought to my life?
I go in search of coffee to energize your day
as just the awareness of you has fueled mine.

Prompt words today for NaPoWriMo Day 2 and my usual 5 prompt sites are cusp, tassels, energize, perception, express and conspiracy. Image from Unsplash.

C’est la Vie: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 1

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C’est la Vie

This body she had been assigned did not seem prone to cooperate. As she reached for a salad, her hand veered off course and selected a large bowl of lasagne instead, then bypassed the carrot juice for a chilled glass of rose. She did not understand. She had been led to believe that that part of her that she had brought to the body would be in control of the brain, but that did not seem to be so. A small portion of the cheese separated itself from the body of the pasta and pooled on the plate. The body smacked its lips as it took a first succulent bite.  The lasagne was delicious. She fought the reaction but it was too late. She had already experienced it.

Another body sat down beside her, to her left. It was a male body and upon the table it placed a plate of salad and a glass of carrot juice. “That looks delicious,” the body said, motioning toward her plate,

Immediately, she recognized something in this body. Something of her—as though they had somehow mixed up components. She had heard of this happening. She saw him raise the carrot juice up to his lips, casting his glance over her glass of wine longingly, regretfully.

As if on cue, she raised her own glass to her lips. “C’est la vie,” she thought, but did not give voice to it. If this was to be a dissolute life, it was not of her choosing. Some trick of fate or oversight of administration. She lifted her fork. She would be principled in her next life. It was not her fault, this slip. She might as well enjoy it.

The prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 1 for 2022 is based on Robert Hass’s remarkable prose poem, “A Story About the Body.” The idea is to write your own prose poem that, whatever title you choose to give it, is a story about the body. The poem should contain an encounter between two people, some spoken language, and at least one crisp visual image. Image by Joshua Chun on Unsplash.