Today’s prompt: ” try your hand at a minimalist poem.” (http://www.napowrimo.net/day-thirty-5/)
word
less
Today’s prompt: ” try your hand at a minimalist poem.” (http://www.napowrimo.net/day-thirty-5/)
word
less
Today’s prompt: “a poem that meditates, from a position of tranquility, on an emotion you have felt powerfully.” (http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-nine-5/)
I remember the feeling.
I remember:
the sharp inhale,
the racing pulse,
the nervous sweat,
the stuttering tongue,
the locked muscles,
pounding pulse in my ears.
I suppose you would call it fear.
Or awe. Or desire.
All this, muddled and inextricable,
blended to create something
extraordinary.
The physiology of ecstasy.
I have an image, clear and certain,
standing before you,
naked for the first time,
my first sight of you:
breast,
hip,
the hollow of your collar bone,
ragged fingernails bitten to the quick,
legs open,
wanting.
How we wanted!
My eyes darting here,
then there,
nervously sliding across the landscape
of your body,
not knowing where to rest.
This moment, even more
than what came after
(rapture! wonder!)
etched the experience into
my bones.
I picture you now,
again, and I remember
the feeling.
Today’s prompt: “‘remix’ a Shakespearean sonnet.” (http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-seven-5/)
Sure, she ain’t no beauty:
some may say she’s ugly,
or to be more kind,
she’s plain. But, oh, her mind!
Her hair is just hair,
never silken thread there.
Her breath stinks, her eyes
are dull, but seriously, you guys?
She’s amazeballs! So she’s brash
and loud, and her ‘stach
needs to be shaved every week,
and her knobbly joints creek.
She’s as perfect for me
As ever someone could be.
Today’s prompt: “try your hand at a meta-poem.” (http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-eight-5/)
These are not letters
Strung along the page
Communal symbols of sounds
These are not words
Laid out in sequence
Carrying no true meaning
These are not lines
Stacked one atop another
In a stylized cascade
These are not stanzas
Grouping thoughts together
Creating no true structure
This is not a poem
Without structure
Without meaning
Today’s prompt: “write a poem that uses repetition.” (http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-six-5/)
Language lies languid on the page,
languid lie the words, the punctuation:
lithesome commas, colons all business,
beckoning em-dashes, brutal full stops.
On the page, they beckon me to amble
through language, languid, eyes arrested
by brobdingnagian words, eliding
unappreciated work horses: conjunctions,
articles, bridges from clause-to-clause,
bridges from concept-to-concept.
Words lie on the page, attention lies
on the words, languid, lithesome, brutal.
Today’s prompt: “write a poem that:
(http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-five-5/)
I tried my hand at a two-stanza tanka for this one.
Peaty scent of green
Vision of birds swooping loft
Hidden insects cry
Hot breeze caresses our cheeks
Ripe fruit bursts sunlight on tongues
An immanent pause
Anticipating decline
Slow slide into fall
Can we stop and rest a while?
Can we stay here forever?
Today’s prompt: “write a poem that … is inspired by a reference book.” (http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-four-5/)
Does one ameliorate
or alleviate
or lighten?
Differences subtle:
exquistely indirect
but profound.
Words have weighty
meanings,
connotations,
not always easily
navigable,
passable made accessible
only through careful,
attentive,
conscientious,
and deliberate
choice.
We say what we mean.
But perhaps
not always as precisely
accurate
as we intend.
Specificity clarifies meaning
but opposes generalization.
Generalization expands meaning
but undermines clarity.
We say what we mean.
But do you understand what I’m saying?
For this poem, I went spelunking through random links on Thesaurus.com.