Author Archives: Maggie C

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About Maggie C

Stained glass artist, woodworking artisan, writer, respecter of life.

Whodunnit

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Day One of NaPoWriMo.

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net:

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.

The Ocean

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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.

Our first (Early Bird) prompt from NaPoWriMo.net is to 

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.

Magnet Poem #5

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Why do shadows blow away
when we whisper to the summer sun,
delirious within our bitter skin

only to shine purple and cool
like misty moons above a forest lake
as we lie sleeping, dreaming -- 
    or is it screaming -- 

beneath the black waterless sky _

First Lines

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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.

I think I chose wisely.

Note to self: write more poetry this year.

dry run

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It’s been a dry summer,

no word play to spare.

What little comes forth

dissipates in the air. 

Pen poised above paper,

ink eagerly flows.

A doodle emerges;

no poems or prose.

A rhyme – ‘haps a reason – 

to brighten my day? 

But no, merely dust

on my laptop’s display. 

Perhaps chalk on the sidewalk

if not paper or screen.

but when the dust settles,

not a word to be seen. 

I’d settle for tropes

or cliches worn and frayed.

word choices so bad I 

must rhyme “marmalade.”

I’ll spare you, dear reader,

‘til rains settle in, when

words fall from the sky

in a glorious din. 

When parched brain receptors

rehydrate and breathe,

I’ll come waxing poetic, 

my soul on my sleeve.

Alphabetical April

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Day Eighteen of National Poetry Writing Month! Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net:

write an abecedarian poem – a poem in which the word choice follows the words/order of the alphabet. You could write a very strict abecedarian poem, in which there are twenty-six words in alphabetical order, or you could write one in which each line begins with a word that follows the order of the alphabet. This is a prompt that lends itself well to a certain playfulness. Need some examples? Try this poem by Jessica Greenbaum, this one by Howard Nemerov or this one by John Bosworth.

My offering: 

April 
buds curling,
dense earth frees 
ground-harbored insects.
juncos, kits, larvae; 
Mother Nature opens,
poetic quatrains rustle,
spring’s timely unfolding,
verdant waves, 
xenial youthful zeal.

Beyond Compare

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Day Fourteen of National Poetry Writing Month. The muses at NaPoWriMo.net have given us this prompt for today:

…write a parody or satire based on a famous poem… take a favorite (or unfavorite) poem of the past, and see if you can’t re-write it on humorous, mocking, or sharp-witted lines. You can use your poem to make fun of the original (in the vein of a parody), or turn the form and manner of the original into a vehicle for making points about something else (more of a satire – though the dividing lines get rather confused and thin at times).

Since I too get rather confused (though seldom thin) at times, this prompt is a perfect fit. The poem I chose to work with is Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? For those of us who are bard-challenged, I will post Shakespeare’s version below. But first (since I control the quill), here is my rendition:

Sonnet 4: Shall I compare thee to an iced latte? 

Shall I compare thee to an iced latte?
Thou sadly in cup holder dost not fit.
While coffee stains can really ruin my day,
I can control the spillage with one sip.
Sometimes you can be cold as latte’s ice,
Complexion like milk curdled in the sun.
I think it’s fairly safe if I surmise
Your pull date has already come and gone.
My latte won’t last long enough to sour
Nor lose its taste if ice begins to melt.
I tend to drink it up within an hour
The liquid sloshing gently ‘neath my belt. 
   I hope this verse has not offended thee.
   So long to you and your oft bitter tea.

And Shakespeare’s sonnet:

Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer day?

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Dog Walk on a Drizzly Day

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The gray sky is low, pushing down on me
as my dog and I sidestep puddles in our path.
A sense of sadness seeps onto me, settling
like heavy mist on a wool coat. 

Unexplainable loneliness rises up as though
from the rain-dampened earth and I am 
enveloped in a fog of… it almost feels like despair …
that I know is not my own. 

My dog, a double-coated spitz,
shakes his body in a spasm that 
sprays rain water off him in all directions.
My pants leg is flecked with tiny droplets.

Arriving home, I unbuckle his leash and dry him with a towel.
He shakes again and the moisture from his 
undercoat surfaces. I touch his fur; it’s as wet
as though I hadn’t wiped him down at all. 

If I were to sift my fingers through his thick coat
down to the skin, it would be dry and warm.
I, conversely, am cold and shivering and wet.
An involuntary shudder courses through me,

as my psyche tries to shake the melancholy
from my soul.