Tag: Am Writing

I am going off prompt again as writing a parody or satire based on a famous poem is not for me.

So my poem for today came from a memory instead.

The Doe

If I had not stopped to watch 

the deer

I would not have seen her fawn.

With silver tears in its eyes,

it looked at me hypnotised.

Gently, I blew a kiss to land

like a feather upon 

its sweet head.

And if I had not turned 

my gaze back to the doe

I would not have witnessed 

a trust so pure it made 

me cry. 

Today we were asked to write a short poem that follows the beat of a classic joke.

I decided to go off-prompt.

Desires

I would love

to levitate 

on water

like a waterlily

in a painting 

by Monet 

where paint 

never dries

I would love

to breathe

with intention

be grateful 

for each one

I would love

to not know

the time

day

week

month

or year

what a relief 

that would be

I would love

to let go

and flow

like a drop

of water 

in a river

‘Write a poem that addresses itself or some aspect of its self’ was today’s challenge.

My Poems

Drip onto the paper, 

like pus from a wound,

seep through the pages, 

filling the creases

of my forehead, softening 

the rock of my heart.

The prompt today was using ‘overheard language’ – write a poem that ‘takes as its starting point something overheard that made you laugh, or something someone told you once that struck you as funny.’

Not funny, but I went from ‘I should be crying’ and came up with this:

Beside Your Bed

I should be crying.

But I can’t let it show.

I could speak.

Say all the things I ought

to have said. 

But there is no time.

I could think.

Of all the things 

I need to say.

I am too tired.

And what about 

all the questions

I never asked?

The things you omitted

to tell me.

The things you wouldn’t 

explain.

No matter we failed

to close the gap.

All the things we never did.

All the things we didn’t give.

I know you have a little 

life left.

I could try.

I could cry.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

I won’t.

Not here.

Beside your bed.

Today we were asked to write a sea shanty. I adore a sea shanty. I love to sing along. I tried to pen a sea shanty, but I nothing was forthcoming, so I wrote this instead:

Gifts From the Sea

For three years Billy greeted me, shining 

his heart and saying, ‘how are you today?’

Every Thursday morning we met at six twenty.

It was never a struggle to get out of bed. 

We tilted our faces to the sky and spoke 

of the moon, the stars, sunlight, purple clouds. 

Sometimes we said hello to a rainbow.

In the beginning, it was all about his gifts 

from the sea. We called him Billy the Fish.

He was our Thursday morning treat. 

At our table we gave thanks to Billy.

One morning, I noticed Billy was different.

His light didn’t shine quite so brightly.

Each week, I focused my heart on his, 

but he got thinner and thinner.

A winter morning, a silver moon is hiding 

behind black branches, an owl is hooting.

‘I’m taking a break,’ Billy says. 

He drives away. 

I never see him again.

It was April when we read Billy’s tribute, 

Beloved Fishmonger from Gorleston …

It was always about Billy. 

And the gifts from his heart.

Today we were asked to write a sonnet. My first thought? What is that?!

See here if you’d like to know more https://www.napowrimo.net/day-nine-9/

Here is my offering. It may be a sonnet, it may not, but really, it is my words on a page and that is the only thing that matters to me.

Where Love Resides

Consider the pause between every breath.

How vast the distance between all the stars.

Between constant thoughts, see the tiny gaps

And ruptures in our heavy, saddened hearts.

And our tongues, though we never cease talking,

the words we utter have holes and fissures.

Consider two lovers entwined as one,

and the room between tangled arms and legs.  

Tenderness of kisses, softness of touch.

Cold empty space when they say their farewell.

And when we are alone and nights are long.

Where is love we long for and yearn to give?

We are fashioned from stardust, love and light.

And travel the path to eternity. 

I shied away from today’s challenge … and remembered someone I recently met.

Jacqueline

I met her in La Palma.

We walked to the top 

of the highest volcano 

there and stopped.

Still.

The air was cool on my face.

White pillows hung in the sky.

A crow cried.

‘It is breathtaking,’ she said.

And so was she with her bubblegum

mouth and lavender eyes. 

Today, it’s all about the list and how a list can inspire a poem.

Here is a list of instructions.

Instructions

Put down your screens and stand up. 

Go into the heart of the forest.

Lie face down on the ground.

Smell the rotting undergrowth,

the musk of creatures unseen.

Feel the fallen leaves warm 

your swollen belly.

Smile at the earthworms rising 

through the undergrowth to greet you.

Tell them how exhausted you are.

Now imagine their world.

How they wriggle and squirm,

passing the decomposing scrub

through their tubular form.

Think about them pulling 

dead leaves deep into tunnels,

breaking them down to feed

all that grows in the forest. 

Now you know how sacred 

the earthworm is, get up.

Go home and be grateful. 

Day 6 asked that we search for a poem in another language, absorb the ‘sound and shape of the words’ and use this as a basis for a poem. https://www.napowrimo.net/day-six-10/

Here is my offering:

How to Be 

In this world, always be you

I say to myself. 

Pause often 

to observe what arises.

Be aware, keeping a gentle

gaze upon someone’s smouldering eye.

Let arising thoughts float 

by like clouds in the sky.

Drink deeply to nourish 

your body-mind and soul.

You are infinite, everlasting 

and real, your true self.

Don’t say ‘I am scared’,

just breathe and Be.

Day five invites us to write a poem that ‘illuminates the juxtaposition between grief and joy, sorrow and reprieve.’ https://www.napowrimo.net/day-five-10/

My poem came from a memory.

Keep Dancing

There was a moment when my mother

was stuck in her chair with cancer 

creeping up her spine.

She said to me:

‘I’m not going to get any better.’

‘I’m learning to dance,’ I said. ‘The waltz.’

‘Show me,’ she said.

And I did. 

Opening my arms to an imaginary partner,

I stepped around the room.

One, two, three, one, two, three …

She said to me:

‘Let me show you how.’

There was a miraculous moment 

when my mother rose from her chair  

and pulled me to her breast.

‘Follow me,’ she said.

And I did.

We danced and danced, laughed and laughed.

Tears of joy streamed down my face.