I did it. 30 poems in 30 days. * It’s the most I’ve ever written in one stretch in my life. I didn’t write one poem per day—there were some days I wrote nothing and some days I wrote more than one—and I posted a couple out of order. But I wrote 30 poems in the month of April and each one was in response to the suggested prompts from NaPoWriMo.net.

I think some of what I wrote was pretty good. Some are clearly dead in the water. Most are somewhere in the middle—the seed of an idea, good to just have something written. The only one I think is really finished is the minimalist poem I wrote for the last day.

At this point, I should turn to revision. Work on the ones I think have potential, scuplt and polish them. But I won’t. I just don’t have the desire to do that work. I take satisfaction in the act of creating a poem but the work of finishing it isn’t something I find rewarding.

So I leave behind a scattered trail of creative but unfinished pieces. I’d say that’s lazy of me but it’s never been my intention to publish, so that’s OK.

Continue reading “NaPoWriMo 2019: Reflections” →

Today’s prompt: ” try your hand at a minimalist poem.” (http://www.napowrimo.net/day-thirty-5/)

 

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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/)

Memory of Feeling

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/)

Sonnet 130: Remix

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.

Continue reading “NaPoWriMo 2019: Day 27” →

Today’s prompt: “try your hand at a meta-poem.” (http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-eight-5/)

This Is Not a Poem

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

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.