Day 1 of NaPoWriMo calls for a “Lune” poem, essentially a 5-3-5 haiku style, following either the rule of syllables per line, or number of words per line. I ended up doing the latter for this specific exercise. Not that this needs much background, but I am currently on a Friend Pilgrimage, and I ended up doing a Thai Chi/Yoga class with a friend before I left to travel to another city. After I told her about the poem a day prompt, she told me to write about the class. I figured why not, and this is the result. I’m not convinced that this piece is finished, or perfect, but it’s the first day of the challenge, and the second thing I’ve written in the past 4 months since completing my MFA–so rusty gears and all that. Without further ado:
Category Archives: PAD
April means…
Hello readers, writers, movers and shakers:
It’s that time of the year again, where I drum up content by participating in NAPOWRIMO!
That’s all I really have to say. I’m in the midst of traveling and job applications, so I’ll most likely write the poems and either forget to post them, or post them in large clumps. Either way, they are coming, and hopefully soon I can really delve into my monthly 100 word stories, which I believe I promised myself that I would start at the beginning of January.
What can you do, you create a list of 5 things you want to accomplish in 2016, and you make good on 4 out of 5 of those promises before April. I feel like you should call that a success.
At any rate, I hope this message finds you well, creative, and healthful.
Stay curious. Stay eager.
Erin
P.S. For any who are interested in participating/are looking for prompts/wondering about the upcoming hyperlinks under NAPOWRIMO, should check out www.napowrimo.net.
PAD 22 — Pastoral
Today’s poem is supposed to be pastoral. Mine turned into an epiphany–perhaps poorly worded, maybe not conveying the full extent of my feelings, but it’s an attempt nonetheless. Also, I love the beach a lot. The end. 8 days left of the challenge!
“Amazement”
is the word to use to describe as I pause outside myself
on Hunting Island, the North Beach.
the tide is out farther than my memory can recall and
it leaves remnants of the ocean in its wake.
children, dogs, older couples comb the sand,
inspecting what was living, what is still alive.
while we should smell death from the baking jellyfish,
the drying sand dollars, the waterlogged crustaceans,
the sea absorbs it, or perhaps it makes the smell new—
mixed with salt, fish and Coppertone.
seagulls alight and peck at hermit crabs.
dolphins and pelicans alike dive at fish along the waves.
humans collect shells,
they cast out lines and nets.
they build castles, dig moats—and watch them wash away.
Life, as we forget to see it,
in all of its cycles:
foul and wondrous,
superfluous and necessary,
impossible and real.
this is its own poetry.
PAD 21 — Erasure Poem
I think the first poem I ever did for a poetry month challenge was an erasure poem, but I did it differently. Today I took a page out of the Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paolo Friere, and made something.
There it is. Probably means as much as the entire text.
PAD 20 — Facts
NaPoWriMo’s prompt of the day is to write a fact poem. I think I could have made a epic-length poem about elephant facts instead I got waylaid by thinking of all of the facts we once knew for truth, all of the stories we had created to explain them, etc etc. I think this poem, at present is skeletal, half-formed, much like my understanding of the world. The subject matter requires a more verbose structure, but this is perhaps some seeds to plant within your mind until I can come back and really philosopher attack this.
“Absolutes”
The sun revolved around the world,
when it floated on a turtle’s back.
The gods resembled men,
or was it the other way around?
Everyone made bread, tools, fire.
And we all told stories.
Each sunrise was something like a miracle
while nightfall played mysterious.
With all our discoveries and growth,
with all our rationale and facts,
each sunrise is still a miracle.
Nightfall is still a glorious mystery.
PAD 19 — Landay
NaPoWrimo’s PAD 18, was a poem about an urgent journey. Because inspiration refused to strike, and there are 11 days left of the challenge, I allowed myself a freebie and moved on to today. PAD 19 is to write a landay or a 22 syllable rhyming couplet. I wanted to just work on two stand alone lines as opposed to a long drawn out poem, so this is where we ended up:
“Uncertain”
She never knew quite what to believe when a
man looked at her sweetly and asked her to stay.
PAD 17 — Social Media Poem
NaPoWriMo’s Day 17 is all about that social media. It was pretty loose in prompt, so I ended up writing a couple of twitter based haikus. The first was an experiment where I took the first word out of consecutive tweets on my feed (omitting some articles and the like) to make it. It’s abstract, and because it isn’t completely sculpted by me, you are allowed to read whatever the hell you want out of it. The second haiku, I took the first five syllables from some publishing tweet, the first 7 syllables from a Neil Gaiman tweet if you can believe it, the first two syllables from an NPR tweet and then the last three came from the first part of a Henry Tudor tweet. These were also consecutively placed (skipping a couple tweets) on my twitter feed. So, that was fun. Enjoy! Make better ones!
“Scraps of Friday”
Wine-fall on Friday
Supports an odd harmony.
You are poetry.
“Friday Twitters”
23 reasons
and a groupon for tonight.
Update: Eating cake.
PAD 16 — Terzanelle
And we’re caught up. Today’s prompt at NaPoWriMo was a doozy. And I think the major accomplishment is not getting totally lost by the form. So I will link you to a good example page if you want to try it out, otherwise, here is what I got:
“Country Dream”
Dotting the sky with stars, we look upwards
from the bed of a truck, in a field of hay.
This is the dream that we’ve created.
Expanding skies, we open to each other.
We touch, lightly at first
from the bed of a truck, in a field of hay.
Laughter in the breeze—
our tired eyes cling to sight—
we touch, lightly at first.
The smell of smoke on your skin,
goose bump-shivers involuntary.
Our tired eyes cling to sight.
Hidden in the borders of the truck bed,
we explore lashes and freckles.
Goose bump-shivers involuntary.
Our universe merges, expands, sighs.
Dotting the sky with stars, we look upwards,
we explore lashes and freckles.
This is the dream that we’ve created.
PAD 14 — Dialogue
This needs more work. I need more work. I might be hitting the midway slump, and I’ll be muddling over this topic for a while, but NaPoWrimo called for a dialogue in poem form today. I took from a prompt at a panel I went to last week that asked for a letter written to fear from empathy. I combined them and this sort of happened. It is proving difficult, mostly because I am trying to capture the voices I assume both of these attributes would have. But, a rough has been presented all the same:
“Fear and Empathy”
I helped her survive!
We weighed options; reasoned.
Pros and conned our way
out of situations that cause harm.
Yes, this is true.
You have even helped her
save others from pain.
But you have kept her from experiences as well.
Just ask her.
She doesn’t regret it.
If anything she wishes that
She held back more.
She has made herself believe that,
and you know it—
You two struggle daily
She wants power over you.
Well, she can’t do it alone.
But she is trying.
PAD 13 — Riddle Poem
Honestly, I didn’t really adhere to NaPoWriMo’s prompt today. The idea was to write about something without ever explicitly mentioning what it is. So in that sense, I did do it, but in another sense, this went into left field. Regardless, I mentioned a few posts back that planes and travel/movement was a real theme while I was writing these, so this one doesn’t disappoint. I think I could add more onto this poem, but I also struggled with the issue of pushing the point too far. So this is a result–to be returned to at a later date.
“Plane”
Metal bird, how you grow and change.
Rainbow plumes, you are not so endangered
as the Macaws of Belize.
They do not travel beyond their borders,
for fear of poaching, kidnapping, loss of habitat.
They dwindle, grieve.
You nest in cities, feed on fossil fuel and carry us within your metal chest.
So long as humans wander, you will thrive.
Writing for the World 