I saw your magnificent blooms sprawling as only magnolias can do, soaking in the sun’s warmth under a balmy blue sky.
Caught by a sudden springtime squall, your drooping petals skittered to the ground, blown away like loose debris across a windy beach.
Growing up on the Pacific northwest coastline, I was taught to never turn my back on the ocean, lest I be caught off guard by a fast-moving sneaker wave.
My dear magnolia, it appears you would benefit from a similar vigilance. Never, never turn your back on April.
Day Three of NaPoWriMo! Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net:
write a surreal prose poem. For inspiration, check out Franz Kafka’s collection of short parables (my favorite is “The Green Dragon”).
Here’s my attempt:
Just Silly
When the zebra’s spots turn paisley, you know it’s time for lunch. You may cook oatmeal, but don’t expect it to pop up from the toaster when it’s done. It will, instead, crawl from the slot like a drunken Tuesday, and wrap itself into a Celtic knot in the center of your plate. Not to worry; there will be room on the side for marbles and mood rings.
Soup goes well with oatmeal, but do not put the soup in the toaster. That’s just silly. And besides, zebras prefer their soup strung on skewers and roasted over hot pink.
Day Two of NaPoWriMo! Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net:
write a platonic love poem. In other words, a poem not about a romantic partner, but some other kind of love – your love for your sister, or a friend, or even your love for a really good Chicago deep dish pizza. The poem should be written directly to the object of your affections (like a letter is written to “you”), and should describe at least three memories of you engaging with that person/thing.
Herewith, A Cut Above;
We’ve been through things, you and I. Some good, some not so. I can be dismissive, careless. You can be cutting, unforgiving.
I take advantage of you. Use you. I planned to paint my bathroom, and somehow it turned into a near-total remodel. I called on you, and you were right there helping me, seeing it through to it’s (not quite) glorious end.
We have traveled cross country, sharing long drives through snow or heat or rain. Getting lost together when Siri suggests an alternate route. You never complain, and I never feel the need to apologize.
We’ve sat on the back deck together, whittling wood on warm summer afternoons. Sometimes in conversation; sometimes in silence. I feel comfortable with you.
I feel safe with you.
I am artistic; you are utilitarian. I guess that’s why I am the artisan, and you are the utility knife.
Today, we’d like to challenge you to write – without consulting the book – a poem that recounts the plot, or some portion of the plot, of a novel that you remember having liked but that you haven’t read in a long time.
Unfortunately, I can’t remember the book’s title*, but here’s my go at it:
WhoDunnit
When first we met on that bright, crisp page, you seemed to have your life together. The edges just a tad bit frayed, but that’s -- of course -- how humans weather.
A dark and stormy night [cliche]. He warned you not to drive that road. But in your rush, you went that way. What followed is what was forebode.
What did you see through rain-streaked glass? You’d ponder that for many days. Should you have stopped? [We second guess.] Debate, deny, deflect, delay.
A murder! Could you have intervened? The fear, the guilt, the blame, the shame. What is is never what it seems. The killer saw you! (And knows your name.)
Stalked and taunted, played a fool. You wonder, have you gone insane? Your spouse, best friend, they ridicule. You call the cops; it’s all in vain.
I start to think you’re sad and weak. Fearful, whining to no avail. Is it just attention that you seek? My trust in you begins to fail.
I’ll save the rest, won’t spoil the plot; the twists, the turns, the dead end trails. The ending does not disappoint. And – as it should – the good prevails.
* Edited to add: I found the book! The Break Down by B. A. Paris.
Day Zero of NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month). Or is it NaPoWriMo eve? I shall endeavor once again to meld with my muse and meet the challenge of writing a poem a day for the entire month of April.
Pick a word from the list below. Then write a poem titled either “A [your word]” or “The [your word]” in which you explore the meaning of the word, or some memory you have of it, as if you were writing an illustrative/alternative definition.
From the list (which I won’t reproduce here) I chose the word “ocean.” Hence:
The Ocean
Bestower of bounties: one may fish for a feast or dive to the depths plucking pearls from the peace.
Betrayer of boys setting sail on the seas, seduced by the Sirens, then besieged by the beast.
Mantra of mindfulness, mysterious muse, meandering metronome, hewer of hues.
Destroyer of destinies, splitter of seams, shattering ships and drowning brash dreams.
Thunderous thralls turn to tranquil translucence. Balmy or bawdy, a nymph or a nuisance.
Such is the kaleidoscope, the ebb and the flow. We are moored to this tempest; mind, body and soul.
Yesterday’s poetry prompt over at the dVerse blog was to revisit the poems we wrote last year, and using the very first line of 11 poems (one chosen from each of the first 11 months of the year), combine them to make a new poem. The title of the poem is to be the first line from a poem written in December.
Since I barely wrote more than 11 poems, there wasn’t much (any) choice of lines to select. Hence, I humbly present my “found” poem:
Winter Resolve Reigns
When first we breached primordial ooze. April buds curling New buds dripping cold rain
Little cherub on mama’s lap Sweet Violets in the garden grow.
It’s been a dry summer. Cut boards apart, then reassemble. Whose parking lot, I have no clue.
A lazy rain beat symphony Boots sinking deep in mud-browned melting snow Oh, to yet be young
The full set of rules for this particular writing challenge:
Poem Style: • write a ‘Found’ poem from your own Jan-November 2023 poems • write it as an 11 line list/catalog poem OR an 11 line verse poem (with or without stanzas)
Poem Structure: • choose from one poem per month • select ONLY the first line of the very first verse of your chosen poems • select your title from the 12th month or any of the previous months’ first lines • if you’ve posted less than one poem per month for Jan-Nov 2023 then choose a month where there is more than one to make up the 11
Poem Rules: • your 11 lines can be written in any date order • you must keep the original word order • you may only change the tense or personal pronouns • you may add a conjunction or a preposition for continuity • minor erasure at start or end of the original line is allowed • enjambment can be helpful
I had two useable lines left over:
Shall I compare thee to an iced latte? and A pig, a dentist and a cup of hot spiced wine.
Cut boards apart, then reassemble.
Drill holes, then fill them in.
Brush on stain, then wipe it off.
Break stained glass, then tack together.
Melt solder lines so they will harden.
Build a window to block the view.
Artisans are fine crafters
of contradictions.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 