NaPoWriMo - Day 27 and frogs.

Okay, so I’m back on prompt.  Maybe.  Still British, which makes me laugh since the phrase I thought of right off the bat was oh so very southern.  Let’s see where this goes.

If frogs had wings

I think every day would be

thrilling

at least for me.

Can you see them?

In the backyard?

The park?

The grocers lot?

Fat little bellies,

Silly wee legs,

WIngs a buzzing

over their heads!

No more butt bumping

no lily pad hopping

if wishes were fishes

and pigs could fly

if beggars had ponies

and paupers had rye

we’d all be happy

we’d all be free

the frogs the pigs the paupers indeed

but most very especially, me.

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NaPoWriMo - Day 24 - Catching up again.

As ths goes on, I'm afraid I'm less and less willing to follow the prompts.  It appears that the challenge has inspired creativity, but not channeled creativity if that makes any sense at all?  With that said it appears I've got some making up to do once again and oddly enough, I've been spending a lot of time watching Dr. Who and the voice inside my head that reads along as I write is now.....British.  Hm.  Catch up in 3......2.......1

Body and soul

yearning for expression

emotions searching for escape

--an avenue of flight

remembering a time when it was easy

to touch, to feel, to live/

sensations covered so deeply no

by the dust and cobwebs of memory

that its become doubtful

they'll ever be felt again

the joy of discovery

that peaceful tranquility of the night,

before the storm

gentleness as a friends' embrace

passion in a lovers' touch

the serenity of knowing

that there is a place in the world

that only I can fill

what happens to those 

innocent childhood dreams

are they swept away by time

or is it gradual--

until the day comes and

you realize you've lost them

maybe never to find them again

alone in the night

my throat coaxes the scream

symbolizing the frustrations

of a lifetime

finally released in a voice

like a dying animal--trapped all alone

making one last effort at redemption

reaching out to the stars

praying to the light of creation

to absorb the pain

replace it with--anything

numbness, I plead

for that would be better than this

this agony that sears my soul

leaving me so terribly frightened

of nothing and of everything

when did I lose my humanity

"I must have for surely no human heart should feel so"

I wrap my arms tight

around my body

a futile attempt to draw close to something--

frigid night air

that would feel like salvation to me now.

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NaPoWriMo - Day 22 - Cicada

The cicadas sing tonight

in rhythm and blues

Louisiana taverns where

the soulful horns

permeate the swampland

sending me into

a parallel world

of psychedelic skies

and peaceful soliloquies.






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NaPoWriMo - Day 21 - Narcoleptic Fortune Cookies

The NaPoWriMo prompt for the day was to rewrite Frank O'Haras "Lines for the Fortune Cookies". It's funny how the prompts that seem the most simplistic are often the most difficult to complete.

Fortune Cookies for the Narcoleptic

You must open your eyes to see the sun.

No matter how long you sleep, if you wake it's not forever.

A glass of wine will often make anyone drowsy.

Sleep through a thousand sunsets and the one is more beautiful.

The sun will rise even if you're never awake to watch it.

Time spent enjoying nothing is not wasted.

When moments are numbered, each becomes more precious.

Write down everything and you'll forget nothing.

Say goodbye carefully lest it be your last.

Smile often, there is no such thing as too much joy.

Whatever you might love, do it often and with passion.

Cherish the good and ignore the rest.





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NaPoWriMo - Day Twenty - Stretching things a bit

So the NaPoWriMo prompt for the day was a list of words of which at least five should be included in your poem. Although I’m not a big fan of Haiku, I figured there’s literally no easier way to shove five words into a poem when you’re as physically exhausted as I am at the moment and trying to play make-up with NaPoWriMo. Maybe it’s because I’m so tired that I can actually visualize this in my mind and it’s lovely there Kinda “Supernatural”-esque.


Mercurial ghost
elusive scent of spiced clove
owl upwind hunting.






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NaPoWriMo - Day 19 - Iron Man again.....

Today’s prompt was to write a personal ad, and I had no clue, but a few words from the Avengers kept popping into my head and since I adore Iron Man and RDJ, who may very well be one and the same come to think of it……


Wanted:

Genius, billionaire playboy philanthropist seeks his scientific opposite, a FE male.

HaHa? Get it? FE = Iron? >.>
God I’m bad……






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NaPoWriMo - Day Eighteen - And yada yada yada and...

I never dreamed that a nieces wedding could totally monopolize and entire weekend, but it did and so I find myself four days behind, before I'm finally caught up from the lovely festivities. It was a lovely wedding though and the wedding cake I made turned out quite lovely despite its catastrophe on Friday that required a near total salvage effort, and the cupcakes my daughter made were oh so cute. The bride was beautiful, the tent that was destroyed by high winds on Friday night was repaired early Saturday morning and no one would have ever known so much bad luck preceded the actual event. So now that I've attempted to get back into my poetry, we'll see what happens, three poems in one day might be more than I can manage, but we shall see. So for the NaPoWriMo prompt for the day, a poem that begins and ends with the same word, let's have at it!


Alone I sit
at my small desk in
the hallway
I don't know
what to write anymore
each evening, after dinner
I reach for coffee
and cigarettes
staring at blank pages
that stare back at me

They've laughed before
those papers
knowing that the pen
I hold
will never touch them
that listless fingers
will give up,
walk away, defeated.

There is so much
I NEED to write
so much that needs
to be expelled,
to be birthed
but a friend said
"Never, ever write
what should be written".

So I argue
with myself, my writing
afraid to violate
some unwritten rule
of poetry by needing
something or anything
this badly.

Finally,
words are born
but the struggle to
answer questions is immediately
followed by questioning
of those answers
just found.

A never ending
circle of words, poetry,
healing
that is mine and mine
alone.







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NaPoWriMo - Day Seventeen - A Poem of Greeting

For NaPoWriMo today, the prompt is to write a greeting.


Good Morning Moon

My days and nights are confused
once again, I'm afraid
slumber calls far too often, I
wake to sunsets and quiet
instead of the early morning
bustle of life, of people
talking and living and breathing

I realize there's a problem
when the cats sleep less
than I -- when I drift off
to warm bodies snuggled tight
and wake to a cold and lonely
bed, covers pushed away
thrashing limbs on a
posturepedic battlefield.

I've near forgotten the warmth
of sunlight on skin, the
flutter of leaves sparkling
with morning dew.
I've given up the day
a nightwalker, a star that
blazes brightly, but still
for not nearly long enough.

My heart is given to sunshine
and flowers, to birds singing
and dirt under my fingernails
to newly sprouted dahlias
and apple trees, to the sound of
lawnmowers and trimmers
buzzing along merrily
changing daily the landscape of light

My body though denies me much,
all those things I love,
it battles furiously for the night
holding me down - struggling
against all that is light and beauty
forcing another kind of glory,
a shimmering silver perfection....
Good Morning, Moon.







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NaPoWriMo - Day Sixteen - Yes, in Swedish.

I told my daughter that I didn't want to do the prompt today. She called me a pansy. Yup. Said the prompts were to further my writing skills, and if I didn't at least try, that I was chickening out. She knows me well my kid. So I picked a poem from the list, and as a testament to how much I love Peter Forsberg (The God of Hockey), I chose Swedish. Ugh. Talk about pushing your limits. This is probably my worst attempt thus far, but no one can say I didn't give it a shot. So without further ado, the original work in Swedish, and then my own awkward and pitiful attempt.


Jag har en bärnstensring som
skimrar genom insjövattnet

Jag dyker, rör upp slam, partiklar
av mineraler lösgörs och svävar längs

bottnen, liksom ekblomsknopparnas
stjärnhår svävade och inneslöts i stenen

då, på den sabeltandade tigerns
och de små hästarnas tid

i de subtropiska skogarna med fläder
och kamferträd här, där vi bor i hus

Man ser klarare under vatten
Man ser klarare när man är sjuk

Jag dyker i det svala vattnet, rör upp
slam, partiklar svävar långsamt, mineraler,

som ekblomsknopparnas stjärnhår svävar
i bärnsten genom trettio miljoner år, skimrar

i insjövattnet när jag dyker, allt
rörs upp, grumlas, skimrar

_________________________________

I've seen you listening sleepily
skylight blinking overhead

Stars dying, blazing farflung, particularly
for moonstruck lovers over velvet skies

bubbles, glisten effervescent
sparkling, spinning, our innocence in stereo

Yes, we are sophisticated children
on our way towards love

I want sunlit showers to warm
our moondrenched hair, how long do I have?

How long until demons wander
How long until demons take you to sing

He said I might emerge victorious, or not
Stop, particularly emergent legions, moonstruck

Some enthusiastically stumble forward
I bartered lives against emotion true, lovely

I promised him my death, traded
Them heaven, glistening, lovely.






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NaPoWriMo - Day FIfteen - In Memory (Boston)

In a way I feel that using Boston as a prompt might be insensitive, but again, what better way to remember those killed and injured in today’s attacks. As far as the pantun, I can think of no better example of two things that should never go together, but unfortunately, have. My thoughts and prayers to the families and friends of all the victims in Boston today. 4/15/2013.


Boston is a runners paradise

For everyone from young to old.

Smoke, tears, fear will paralyze

Little lives forever denied untold.






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NaPoWriMo - Day Fourteen - I AM A Superhero!

The NaPoWriMo prompt for the day was to write a poem in a voice not your own, specifically that of a superhero, or perhaps a supervillian. So here goes! Of Superheroes and What Not.

If you’re a perfectly honest person,
You’ll have to admit I’m the best.
Look at things intellectually,
Put your old superheroes to the test.

Bat Man is all dark and emo,
Robin’s a little bit gay
I’d say Catwoman is kinda hot
But I’m a guy, so what else would I say?

Is there anything to say about Spiderman?
The Captain is a little uptight
Hawkeye just shoots his arrows
But Hulk is actually alright.

Thor tries just a little too hard
Colton ended up dead
Nick Fury’s a bit of a jerkoff
Messing with everyone’s head.

I can’t say much about Black Widow
At least not and sleep well at night
Because Pepper is probably listening
And then we’ll just get in a fight.

Then there’s moi, devilishly handsome
smart, and rich, and all that,
a billionaire philanthropist
I’ll suit up at the drop of a hat.

So some might say I’m a meanie
Other’s say I’ve no heart,
I’ve got one right here, plugged into my chest
And another in a box just to start.

So maybe I do my own thing now and then
A team player I am not
But when you look as good as I do,
Well you just have to use what you’ve got.








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NaPoWriMo - Day Thirteen - The Walk

A Walk

Most often when taking a walk
One chooses somewhere quite lovely

Picks a partner with whom they can talk
And sometimes a cute little doggy.

I see them walking, holding hands
talking, laughing, looking round,

discovering history, or botanical lands
Joyful with discoveries newly found.

The walk that I chose will sound odd to some
One that perhaps wasn’t all that smart

For the walk that I chose was ….dum dum dum…..
Our always quite busy, local WalMart.

I walked past peaches, and plums and pears
Past sprouts and spinach and bags of kraut

I walked past ladies with odd colored hair
and some with a WAY too much skin hanging out.

In the meat aisle, I stared at a man in brassiere
A woman with butt cheeks hanging right out

A person with a belt from an old goodyear
Did they look in a mirror before running about?

I walked through the dairy
past milk jugs and OJ and yogurts with cherries

nearly run over by a little one dressed like a fairy
her smiling face liberally stained with blueberries.

I wandered around a bit aimless and lost
Past ladies with clothing three sizes to small

and men who I’m quite sure have never once flossed
I thought to myself I should have gone to the mall.

I was jostled, and crowded and once even pushed
by two little boys with plastic crossbows

Waiting for someone or something to ambush
Their sticky little fingers clutching plastic ammo.

At that point, I decided I must find the door
Past the lady with no pants and very high boots

dodging wheelchairs and buggies and sticky spots on the floor
and two men or women dressed in spacesuits.

I bolted like bambi, or a cheetah in the chase
I lost track of myself about then I must say

The door looming large at the end of my race
Then a pat on the shoulder and “Have a Nice Day!”






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NaPoWriMo - Day Twelve - Spit it Out!

I thought too much on this.
Probably because I've already
written one poem for you
and I think that two might
make you too important.
The fact is though-
you're not.

You're a closed chapter in
the book of my life.
A footnote that literally
means nothing other than
lesson learned - I'm
moving on now.

Yet here I sit, writing about
you, or to you - again, and
NO, it's not because you're
that important, regardless
of what you might think
it's simply because....

I was taught respect.

I was taught to never talk back
to my elders
or to those in charge
to those who warrant some
modicum of regard
no matter how you might really feel.

You though?
You don't deserve any of that,
even though I could never
bring myself to say the words
aloud.
At least not to your face.

You, my dear, are a travesty
of holiness, a black smudge
on the face of humankind. You--
with your fake smile, your
holier than thou disposition.
A parody of good intent.

You're everything that makes me
sick. The game-playing, the whispers
to one about the other, then back
again, spreading lies and filth with
every breath, but I at least, see truth
I see the false intentions.

You destroyed a part of my life
that I cherished deeply.
You wounded the ones I love most
hurt them in that place in their
hearts that matters most.
Destroyed self-confidence. Trust.

You're nothing but a pretender.
A false prophet, not in sheeps clothing
because sheep are cute and fluffy. You?
You're a reptile, a leech, something
that lurks in the dark because
in the light, even you could see the ugliness.

You're a hypocrite. A liar.
I can almost hate you because I
wanted so badly to believe
that I could have something that
I needed so desperately, but in the end
you have to have cared to hate.

I feel good, because I don't hate you.
I feel sorry for you.
I pity you and your fake life.
I can't imagine how shallow you must be
For your pettiness to have grown
and grown to take you over so completely.

I feel better because I know
that I am the better person.
Maybe that's spiteful, but I don't
think so. I think it's honest.
I think it's important that I've
restored what you stole from me.

I've also been taught
not to judge, but I do.
It might never be spoken, but it's there.
I hope that you've changed
although I doubt you have
because otherwise,

I'm fairly certain
your destination will not
be the one you sing about
on and on and on and on
I'm sorry to say
but a place much darker indeed.







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NaPoWriMo - Day Eleven - Possibly a Tanka

Day lilies in spring
blossoming in the sunlight
dappled shade glitters

on bunny ears nibbling
away all my gardening.






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NaPoWriMo - Day Ten - Unlove?

I’m so tired of the judgement.

People sit on their self proclaimed

thrones looking down

on anyone unlike them.

Anyone who dares be different.

Who dares be themselves.

The tears I shed before sleep

are no different than those shed

on your altar.





A note: I myself am a very spiritual person. This poem is not intended to bash those who go to church anymore than calling my daughter’s boyfriend “poppy” in jest bashes those of Hispanic descent. I believe that there is good in every race and culture as well as bad, and I am completely non-tolerant of those who group any ethnicity, religion, race, etc. into “good” or “bad”.




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NaPoWriMo - Day Nine - A Noir Poem

Badge 1247 responding.
Hollywood, California, 1947
fame holds hands with corruption
and those pretty dames
are often only pretty on the outside.


It's a cut-throat business
Hollywood.
A girl would do anything
to see her name in lights.
A man would do anything to see her in the dark.


The crime scene is ringed by palms
swaying in the crisp spring breeze
bright yellow tape fluttering
around her body--stark contrast
a portrait of life and death.


Officers stand around, pale white
faces stark testimony to the vulgarity
that lies sprawled indignified in crisp
green grass -- a bloody smile
across her delicate throat.


A single red stiletto lies nearby
Camouflaging the blood pooled inside
Evidence is gathered,
a single tube of Sin City Red lipstick
a stage pass to Paramount draped over naked breasts.


Cigarette butts litter the ground around her
Neon lights begin to come up in the distance
Crowds have begun to gather behind
the police sawhorses set up around the perimeter
all anxious to learn the who, the why, the how.


Woolworth suits gather in the bullpen as 
whispers about serial killers and tragedy
The Black Dahlia haunts
everyone these days.

Inspired by LA Noire, produced by Rockstar Games
This case is highly influenced by the murder of Jeanne French. Jeanne French was a 45-year-old army nurse who was discovered stripped and stomped to death early in the morning in February 1947. The case was never officially solved, but was supposedly linked to the infamous "Black Dahlia" murder because the initials "B.D." were written with lipstick on French's dead body and the murder took place just weeks after the murder of Elizabeth Short (Black Dahlia), which also took place in 1947 Los Angeles.



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NaPoWriMo - Day Eight

Okay so. NaPoWriMo. Prompts are well, designed to prompt you into writing. Today’s prompt worked. Kinda. It prompted me to realize that I have absolutely no talent whatsoever as far as working in iambic pentameter. So with that said, I’m deviating from the prompt for the first day, which is disappointing to me, and yet not.

Untitled

I will always see you
standing so quietly on that shore
with rapids breaking around
your ankles like some liquid glass
both cutting
and bleeding into memory

spires and crosses
of our past, hovering over us, judge
and jury to all that we’ve ever been
and our angel standing tall as she gives
her closing argument
fingers curled tightly, trying to
hold on — to keep from crumbling
into oblivion

“some fusion in which we
would both disappear” is how you
once described it, but I can’t see fusion
I see instead our angel, beautiful and monolithic,
a testimony to what is real
but yet unable to endure, unable
to withstand the white heat of ageless
sunrise, and the pelting of rain
slowly breaking away, crumbling
into indignity.

The sun slowly falls–
shadowing hands
sliding away until only
fingertips touch
before that last sliver
of sunset breaks through
before dying.

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NaPoWriMo - Day Seven

I said “I love you”.
He said “I’ve loved you forever”.


Before we married, I told him I’d do anything for him.
Now I do everything for him.


Dinner must be on the table at six, not a moment late.
His clothes must be folded just so.


The house must be dusted and vacuumed and tidied daily.
No dirty dishes are allowed in the sink at any time.


Our children are not allowed to be dirty or unkempt.
Children are to be seen, not heard.


The lawn is to be mowed on Tuesday using diagonal lines.
The cars are to be washed on Saturday morning between 10:00 and 2:00.


A lady is to wear dresses since pants are for men.
The Bible says a womans hair is her glory.


His money belongs to him.
Purchases must be submitted for his approval.


I no longer have any friends.
He told me that he is all I need.


He says I am his life.
He says I am his world.


I didn’t know my life would be like this.
I have only myself to blame.


Noncompliance results in punishment.
He makes sure the bruises are hidden well.


Peroxide does not remove blood completely, shampoo must be used.
Doctors are to be seen only once so they do not ask questions.


But could you perhaps love me a little less?









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NaPoWriMo - Day Six - A Valediction

Wednesday nights are church.
Storms crash overhead but
there is no hail, no rain,
no blue white lightning to
pierce the veil of darkness.


I have to get ready, but
there is nothing there, the
closet is empty and I stand
naked, crying
not knowing why.


Sirens sound, doors open
and close. Reverberating through thunder.
I see everything and nothing
because everything is too much
and nothing is not enough.


You’re there though
work clothes in the street
angry water swirling
around your knees
face to the sky


i want so badly to scream,
the water…it’s hungry tonight
lapping at your flesh,
torrents raining down from the sky
chanting, “hungry, hungry, hungry”


I try to understand,
watching helplessly as you
skim the overhead power lines
with the buzzing edge
of a chainsaw blade.


“What are you DOING?”
“Don’t you KNOW…….?”


FInally, the blue white flash
of storm, of electricity untamed
and suddenly, you’re just….
not there. Gone.
Wiped away in a second.


“Daddy?”
“Dad……..”


Tears roll unchecked, tracing
lines of grief, of pain
mourning all over my face
horror in my heart,
soul empty.


I’m still talking to you, as if you never left
and nothing here makes any sense
except that you’re still gone
and I just woke from nightmare feeling
seventeen all over again.


In loving Memory.
Edwin Sutton Pond
Father, Best Friend, My Everything.
2/15/1934 – 6/15/1981





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NaPoWriMo - Day Five - A Cinquain

Admittedly, it’s been a few years since grammar school, so I’m not sure how accurate this actually is, must admit this was the hardest challenge thus far for me.

Stories
untold, undone
undiscovered memoirs
grandpa recalls with clarity
forever











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NaPoWriMo - Day Four

 Irregular Apocolypse

Movies and television have it all wrong
There will be no zombies running amok,
no alien spaceships hovering
over New York or DC or Los Angeles
No ice ages that will freeze us all as we stand
and no global tsunamis
washing over humanitys home.
Our downfall wil be our own,
our responsibility, our regret
our mistakes
We are our own apocolypse.

We stomp through life,
seemingly unaware that in so doing
We step one booted foot at a time
into our own undoing.
Our own downfalls.
Perhaps it is our curse
the fact that we destroy everything
we touch.
That we take without giving.
That we rampage through our
own home on Earth
without thought or consequence.

Once upon a time, we were new here
We worked with our Earth
and took only what she gave
and were thankful
We lived on her schedule
we plowed in season
we sowed in time
She gave us everything
but everything has never been enough.

We take advantage
and the little we have learned
has been learned far too late
We are
our own apocolypse
and it is anything but regular.






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NaPoWriMo - Day Three

A modern sea shanty.

Jon Boats, Bass Boats, Long boats all,
We fish every season from summer to fall.
With a beer in one hand and a pole in the other
We’re friends one and all, an odd band of brothers.

We fish, and we fish, and we fish all day long
We drink and we drink and we sing the fish song
There’s no where else we’d rather be
Than a river, a lake, a stream, or the sea.

We’ve got a full cooler, a pot full of bait
There’s never a very good reason to wait
The fish be a-biting, the suns shining hot
We could eat for a year on the fishes we got

We fish, and we fish, and we fish all day long
We drink and we drink and we sing the fish song
There’s no where else we’d rather be
Than a river, a lake, a stream, or the sea.

I’ve a pig on me left knee, a cock on me right,
So should I go under, my charms they will fight
I’ve a swallow on the bottoms of each of me feet
So my fair wife and children again I might meet

We fish, and we fish, and we fish all day long
We drink and we drink and we sing the fish song
There’s no where else we’d rather be
Than a river, a lake, a stream, or the sea.

At the end of the day when we’ve fished ourselves out
We’ve got bass and bream and a pretty fat trout
We’ve packed up our lures, our poles and our ties
Don’t ask us about sizes and we’ll tell you no lies.

We fish, and we fish, and we fish all day long
We drink and we drink and we sing the fish song
There’s no where else we’d rather be
Than a river, a lake, a stream, or the sea.






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NaPoWriMo - Day Two 4/2/2013

It only rains on Tuesdays,
the bus always runs on time
Chef Ramsey never gets angry
you can buy anything you want with a dime.

Kitty cats never get sleepy
Little dogs never bite
Watched pots boil quickly
And the sun shines brightest at night.

Babies don't cry on airplanes,
Traffic never backs up,
Daryl Dixon loves zombies
And Cujo was s sweet little pup.

Cops have a great sense of humor,
Strippers love one dollar bills
Grizzly bears hate salmon
And ghosts never gave anyone chills.

Its always overcast in California
New Orleans is very dry,
New York is quaint and quiet
And Las Vegas is actually quite shy.

Tigers have no stripes,
Zebra's have spots
Cougars have some stripes
and Elephants have nots.

Ladies do not like chocolate
And men have never liked beer
Children love their vegetables
And ice cream never finds your rear.

Sitcoms are educational
Documentaries keep you awake
Models eat donuts for breakfast
And Playboy's pictures aren't fake.

Dandelions grow where you want them,
Grass will never need mowed
Bunnies don't really like clover
And rows have no need be hoed.

Writing always comes easy,
Novels are easy as pie,
Bloggers are never quite honest
And poets never, ever lie.





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NaPoWriMo - Day One 4/1/2013

Have you heard about NaPoWriMo?

I hadn't and since I just discovered this, I've decided I'm up for the challenge.

It's been a while since I've felt the desire to write poetry, so we'll see how it goes.

April 1, 2013

She walks in beauty, like the night
silvered whiskers quivering....anticipating
the lure of a mouse in tall grass
the sudden swoop of a fragile wingspan
shocking her into the pounce.

She sleeps in serenity, like the stars
the twitch of an enormous white paw
or the slow rise and fall of tiny ribs
all that proves she sleeps
and has not drifted into the beyond.

She loves in totality, like a mother
and nothing can change the adoration seen in a glance
or the rub of cheek against cheek
the slow knead of soft pink pads
or claw-less toes massaging skin.

She trusts in devotion, like a child,
nothing can harm her, no pain will come
so long as you're there
a kind word, a gentle stroke,
a lap to hold her world.

She rests in peace, like a sunset
mourned until a memory returns and brings a smile,
or a tear of remembrance
A simple stone marks her presence in our world,
a presence still and forevermore missed.

In loving memory of our Perfect Precious Princess Boo.
4/16/2012






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