NaPoWriMo: Day 17- Nocturne, she wrote

Night is a lock box
tucked under a Queen
bed in an Irish castle
that has been forgotten.
It is in the space
trapped inside metal
with a combination
the King is too dead
to know. There in
the silence is night
who waits for someone
to set her free, but she
doesn’t know how
her freedom would take
away. She beats
against sheets in a hollow room–
her sacrificial tomb–
begging to be seen
but night is shrouded
her very existence hides
and only light
has the key.

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NaPoWriMo Day 17 Prompt: I challenge you to write a nocturne.

NaPoWriMo: Day 16-A Letter

You seem a stranger now
jagged pieces of past
I found under pillows
between pages of books
and underneath shelves
separated, you are shattered
sheets of my journal I crumpled
and threw away
but some parts still stick
to furniture and films
I haven’t been able
to watch without you

We left behind ourselves
in each other like
broken glass dropped
on the kitchen floor
years ago.

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NaPoWriMo Day 16 Prompt: Your poem can be in the form of a letter to a person, place, or thing, or in the form of a back-and-forth correspondence.

NaPoWriMo: Day 15- In Between

a prickle betwixt my ribs
my whole solar plexis fell
asleep, while I lie heart
pressed against your chest
but I don’t say

I want this to last
this tight grip
between somewhere and nowhere
as long as we both hold on
we’ll go there together

I can’t imagine the taste of honey
without you, or the ripple
of cars on the street
just outside my window.
I want to know the shape of your face

when your 60
and how your eyes will still
be the same color
even though your hair might be salt and pepper.
I want to know your hands

and how they will feel against my cheek
as you watch a tear slide down it.
This and so much more I want
and I can still imagine it
I can still have it

if we stay here in between

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NaPoWriMo Day 15 Prompt: Write a poem that reflects on the nature of being in the middle of something.

NaPoWriMo: Day 14- Chris Pratt

Chris Pratt
has lived around the map.
Never living off of much,
his belongings can still fit in Anna Faris’s Fendi clutch.

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NaPoWriMo’s Day 14 Prompt:

Because it’s Friday, let’s keep it light and silly today, with a clerihew. This is a four line poem biographical poem that satirizes a famous person. Here’s one I just made up:

Emily Dickinson
wasn’t a fickle one.
Having settled in Amherst,
she wouldn’t be dispersed.

NaPoWriMo: Day 13- Should Have Been First

I remember the pain first. You always remember the pain first.
My soul sucked through a straw slowly, he was my first.

Submerged years in his affection, I was unaware
it was distraction for other men who crossed my path first.

In thirst, I followed the sound of brooks, considered the nooks
and crannies of each crag, but still thought I should put him first.

Only a stag in my way, I wandered in with some hay
and some attention made me stay, but I wasn’t his first.

It was only a matter of time before the pillow fort collapsed
relaxed under blanket canopy, I should have known first.

His love was not owned by me, someone else held his key
then I let myself free, by turning away first.

I remember the pain first. Sometimes it still hurts
in that empty place in my chest, where the scalpel sliced first.

It happened twice. It was new and fragile. But it goes well,
like wine and Brie. This is so much more and should have been first.

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NaPoWriMo’s Day 13 Prompt:  the ghazal. The form was originally developed in Arabic and Persian poetry, but has become increasingly used in English, after being popularized by poets including Agha Shahid Ali. A ghazal is formed of couplets, each of which is its own complete statement. Both lined of the first couplet end with the same phrae or end-word, and that end-word is also repeated at the end of each couplet. If you’re really feeling inspired, you can also attempt to incorporate internal rhymes and a reference to your own name in the final couplet.

NaPoWriMo:Day 12- The Niffin

If within a niffin
a broken heart lies
quicken for
the wiccan with stars
in his eyes.

If during the wake
a mistake was made
stake it then say
fault is not hers
for she didn’t know
magic could saturate souls.

Mind the sheen to her skin
that’s the magic within,
sin shines in mysterious ways.
When as a niffin
she stiffens at the wiccan
who should have released her
from the start.

Now in the thicket—
a showdown of kin
necromancy is the romance
of underground farce.

For today it begins
the resurrection of niffin
as she welcomes her soul
back to her bones.

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Today’s Prompt: Write a poem that explicitly incorporates alliteration (the use of repeated consonant sounds) and assonance (the use of repeated vowel sounds). This doesn’t mean necessarily limiting yourself to a few consonants or vowels, although it could. Even relatively restrained alliteration and assonance can help tighten a poem, with the sounds reinforcing the sense.

NaPoWriMo: Day 11- The Branch Will Not Break (Line and title from James Wright)

If ever there was a time to be alive
it would be this and every year beyond
because we have no idea what we’re doing
it’s exhilarating to wonder: What’s next?
These words mold minds
and rip apart families: Make America Great Again.

The branch will not break.

A society cleaved by a small
orange hand that does not ball
into a tiny fist, but whose matching pair
both open to the crowd
revel in the exalting cheers
in awe of the enormous size of things
instead of building bridges
he builds walls.

The branch will not break.

Activists stand tall, backs pressed against
riot gear that tries to oppress
met face to face in opposition a young girl
smiles at the angry face of a fist
because we’re not trying to start a fight
we’re trying to end one.

The branch will not break.

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Day 11’s Prompt: The invention of poet Afaa Michael Weaver, the Bop is a kind of combination sonnet + song. Like a Shakespearan sonnet, it introduces, discusses, and then solves (or fails to solve) a problem. Like a song, it relies on refrains and repetition. In the basic Bop poem, a six-line stanza introduces the problem, and is followed by a one-line refrain. The next, eight-line stanza discusses and develops the problem, and is again followed by the one-line refrain. Then, another six-line stanza resolves or concludes the problem, and is again followed by the refrain.

NaPoWriMo: Day 10- A Short Bio

Doesn’t have a clue
where north is
Ran for student council
didn’t win
Was on dean’s list
Once
Forgets when steps into a room
Always asks twice
Can’t recall what she ate for breakfast
at dinnertime
Requires two warnings before it sinks in
Can’t spell excercise exercise on the first try
Relies on others
to be loyal
she once fell
no one caught her
her heart’s broken in three places
wonders how much longer
till it heals
expects more
often disappointed
but never forgets
humanity is a double-edged sword
life is a mixed bag
of tricks
there are two types of people in this world:
those who fall for them
and those who run from them
when the going gets tough
she gets tougher
believes building resilience is the only choice
and a long term goal:

to fall madly

in love

with herself.

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Day 10’s Prompt: Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that is a portrait of someone important to you. It doesn’t need to focus so much on what a person looks (or looked) like, as what they are or were.

 

Always a day behind….

NaPoWriMo: Day 9- What it means

what it means

When a single man falls from the sky
there is one lucky woman whom he’ll hit on
When there isn’t a star in sight
magic abounds in the expanse of another Planet
When cantaloupe the size of canopies rolls through a lanai
someone in Olympia won’t be getting their ambrosia
but it takes someone even more special to realize
a game of chess is only as good as the position of their pawn
if either one player blinks, neither one really tried.

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Today’s prompt:  Because today is the ninth day of NaPoWriMo, I’d like to challenge you to write a nine-line poem. Mine is written in a magic nine rhyme scheme.

NaPoWriMo: Day 8- She Holds Some Flowers

She holds some flowers.

She holds a flower for each cup of blood she’s shed
She holds a flower she carried away after a goodnight kiss
She holds a flower for every secret she didn’t tell
She holds a flower to remind her she’s lived well
She holds a flower in memorandum of every love lost
She holds a flower for every opportunity missed

She holds some flowers.

She holds a flower dismantled by her neglect
She holds a flower pressed between pages
She holds a flower from prom senior year
She holds a flower nestled behind her ear
She holds a flower meant for someone else
She holds a flower imagining another vase

She holds some flowers.

She holds a flower for every tear shed
She holds a flower close to her chest
She holds a flower she found in the grass
She holds a flower disgraced and ashamed
She holds a flower too embarrassed to show its face
She holds a flower watching its petal fall from grace

She holds some flowers.

She holds a flower from the day they met
She holds a flower with a missing petal after they kissed
She holds a flower with only two lips
She holds a flower meant to be his
She holds a flower waiting for its release
She holds a flower in between her sheets

She holds some flowers.

She holds a flower tight between her teeth
She holds a flower inside a box for keeps
She holds a flower because she needed to remember
She holds a flower intended to last for years
She holds a flower with a promise
She holds a flower that believes to be human

She holds some flowers.

She holds a flower mistaken as a cherry
She holds a flower that is often too heavy to carry
She holds a flower for her mother and her father
She holds a flower hoping it will last longer
She holds a flower meant for one
She holds a flower slipped from her tongue

She holds some flowers.

She holds a flower in her hand
She holds a flower between her thighs
She holds a flower in his eyes
She holds a flower she found in his lungs
She holds a flower far too long
She holds a flower and let it go

She holds some flowers.

She holds a flower indistinguishable from the rest
She holds a flower unique by request
She holds a flower placed on his lips
She holds a flower by removing it
She holds a flower knowing it is hers
She holds a flower even though it has thorns

She holds some flowers she had to.
She holds some flowers she wanted to.

But there was always only one flower.