This one was hard for me to write.
The day I left home, got in the car, and drove,
I swore I would never look back.
I broke this vow less than 10 miles down the road.
But my view out the rearview mirror
Was blocked by all my stuff, boxes and backpacks,
Piled in the back seat. My world shoved into my car,
Every nook and cranny filled. It wasn’t as much
As it looked like, filling up my little hatchback.
My world uprooted, taken on the road,
To find a new home, new soil in which to plant myself
And bloom. They say home is where the heart is.
They say you can’t appreciate home unless you leave it.
That you need to wander for a time, to see the world,
To learn who you are in a new place,
Before you can truly understand your roots.
Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to “write a poem that begins with a line from a another poem … but then goes elsewhere with it.”
The challenge states that the line doesn’t need to be the first line of the poem you borrow from, but my line is. It’s the beginning of perhaps my favorite poem of all time:
I Sang by Carl Sandburg.
Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is to write a “kenning” poem:
[T]hink of a single thing or person … and then write a poem that consists of kenning-like descriptions of that thing or person.
I love kennings! I love how playful they can be, and how they challenge you to conceptualize the world in a different, more essential, way.
There’s a sense from the way today’s challenge is described that a kenning poem should aspire to function as a riddle. I suck at riddles, though, so I’m confident the object I chose to describe is perfectly obvious to all. That’s OK—I’m proud of my description.
I’m losing steam. More accurately—I’m losing motivation and inspiration. I seem to be maxing out my capacity for writing poetry.
I’ve never tried to write this much in such a short period of time. My desire to write comes and goes. I’ve always thought I should be a writer but I’ve never been able to maintain the habit of writing for more than brief periods.
Nothing wrong with that, I don’t have to be a writer. But I committed to participating in NaPoWriMo and I’m unwilling to throw in the towel halfway through.
The prompts from the NaPoWriMo site for the first half of the month worked well for me. But these most recent few… Just not clicking. They’re not generating anything usable in my mind.
I need to write something if I want to keep going with this challenge. So, I turn to my usual strategy when I’m having difficulty making myself write—I write about not being able to write.
One of my favorite poetic exercises has always been found poetry, where you take a piece of prose text and attempt to transform it into poetry by adding line breaks and playing with spacing, etc. I love how this exercise highlights the importance of rhythm, scansion, and the layout of text in creating a poetic work.
(For arguably the best example of found poetry ever, check out Hart Seely’s collection, Pieces of Intelligence: The Existential Poetry of Donald H. Rumsfeld.)
Lately, I’ve had it in my head to try a modern technology equivalent of found poetry:
Author’s Note: This poem was supposed to post yesterday, April 12, but my blog somehow ate it.
Today’s prompt from the NaPoWriMo site is to write an index poem. I didn’t do that. Instead, I did what I think of as a modern technological equivalent:
A Google Search poem.
I chose several words, arranged them in the order I wanted, and entered them one-by-one into the Google search bar (technically, each search was the word followed by “is”). Google offered up between three and five auto-suggestions to complete each search. I limited myself to use a maximum of three of these suggestions per search term, in the order they appeared. Eh, voilà! A poem.
Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge is:
[T]o write a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that object or place, but which, of course, really does.
I’m not sure what I wrote for today is quite what they have in mind but it’s where the prompt took me.
I also want to make it clear: This poem does not describe my current workplace. It describes several previous places where I’ve worked.
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem about a flower. It didn’t quite go as I hoped. So I wrote about that, instead.
Once again, I decided to try today’s prompt from the official NaPoWriMo site: write a tritina. To make it even more challenging, I used an online random word generator to come up with three words. (From another perspective, this could be seen as avoiding the work of thinking up three words for myself.) With three words randomly generated, writing this poem became mostly an act of galumphing.
I should probably note that this poem isn’t autobiographical. While my heritage is mixed (but overwhelmingly northern European), I don’t have any particular rage connected to it, nor do I yearn for an ancestral sky.