Category Archives: poetry

Reverse Engineering

Posted on by
10 
Passing Through the Lot on a Hot Day

Whose parking lot? I have no clue.
She probably lives in Timbuktu;
Security cams all turned on me,
She’ll see each car I’m prowling through.

Your big ‘ol mutt is onto me,
entering your car without a key.
Apart from dog drool, crushing heat; 
the brightest day you've ever seen.

Mutt jerks her leash, the collar breaks.
I know I’ve made a big mistake.
Her bark so loud, now sirens wail.
She pins me hard, there’s no escape.

The lot is filled; lights blue and red.
I alibi, cops shake their heads.
They haul me off, the jail’s close by.
I’ve made my bed, so here I’ll lie.

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

Find a shortish poem that you like, and rewrite each line, replacing each word (or as many words as you can) with words that mean the opposite. For example, you might turn “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” to “I won’t contrast you with a winter’s night.” Your first draft of this kind of “opposite” poem will likely need a little polishing, but this is a fun way to respond to a poem you like, while also learning how that poem’s rhetorical strategies really work. (It’s sort of like taking a radio apart and putting it back together, but for poetry).

Okay, so maybe I didn’t quiiiiiiite follow the prompt, but I kinda did, in spirit at least.

The poem I chose to use is Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Here is Frost’s poem: 

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost - 1874-1963

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

To see how others have responded to the challenge, go to NaPoWriMo.net and check out the comments section for links to other participating poets.

NaPoWriMo 2023: Day Two ~ Surreal

Posted on by
4

Day Two of NaPoWriMo. 

Today’s prompt is inspired by poet Paul Celan, and asks us to:

“begin by picking 5-10 words from [a specified] list. Next, write out a question for each word that you’ve selected (e.g., what is [fog]?) Now for each question, write a one-line answer. Try to make the answer an image, and don’t worry about strict logic. These are surrealist answers, after all! After you’ve written out your series of questions and answers, place all the answers, without the questions, on a new page. See if you can make a poem of just the answers. You may find that what you have is very beautifully mysterious, and somehow has its own logic. Happy writing!”

The words I chose are: fog, clove, gutter, salt , thunder, ghost, acorn, elusive, and song (not in order of use). Nothing “beautifully mysterious” came of it, but an interesting challenge nonetheless. Herewith:

What Is…

A pig, a dentist and a cup of hot spiced wine.
[Sounds like the beginning of a bar joke];
that which climbs out of empty bottles.

The smell of old sheets, the color of forgotten.
Wrinkled memories calling bs.
What the dog seeks beneath the bed.

There is…
a giant underfoot,
looking straight, but seeing crooked,
[humming] mathematical paint splatters
hung on a fence to dry.

[Don’t turn around lest they be seen,]
pillars crying at being left behind.

April Showers Bring…

Posted on by
24
Jules Verne. From the Earth to the Moon. London, Sampson Low, Marston, Low, and Searle, 1873 

It’s April, and we all know what that means: NaPoWriMo!

It’s National Poetry Writing Month, and the well-versed souls at NaPoWriMo.net are once again supplying us with inspiration, motivation and creative prompts to help us in the challenge of writing a poem a day for the entire month of April. I always have the best intentions of meeting the challenge, but sometimes life happens. We’ll see how it goes this year.

For April 1:

They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but they never said you can’t try to write a poem based on a book cover — and that’s your challenge for today! 

As a resource, we were sent to The Public Domain Review’s collection “The Art of Book Covers 1820-1914.”

I chose to use a cover to Jules Verne’s book From Earth to the Moon. My endeavor:

To the Moon

When first we breached primordial ooze, 
our lungs inflating from newfound air,
we turned skyward with clouded eyes, and
there it was:

a moon!

We grew a spine (well, some of us),
strengthened lengthening limbs,
climbed mountains and – 
finding our voice – we howled 

at the moon. 

Torsos stretched, gaining balance.
Minds stretched, gaining wherewithal.
Desires stirred beyond mere survival.
Straining upright, we reached yearningly to

touch the moon.

Stripped of innocence, we clothed our bodies.
Sloughing naivete, we cloaked our intentions.
Finding pride, we adorned our personhood.
Growing listless, we set a goal: we would walk

on the moon. 

Scarred and marred from our abuse, at a distance
Earth nonetheless appears a shiny bauble; a marble
expendable in our cosmic game, because we believe
if all else fails, we will simply move 

to the moon.

Half Life

Posted on by
7

We likely all know the trope of whether a half-filled glass of water is half full or half empty. In truth, the glass is completely full: half water and half air. Both are vital to our survival. 

Like the cycles of the moon, our lives are said to wax and wane. Coming into my seventh decade, I am by force of nature inarguably waning, and yet my life is full to overflowing. As the cycle continues, I am quite curious as to where I will find myself at my own next new moon. 

whole moon half-hidden

wax and wane like hide and seek

steadfast in the sky

For dVerse prompt: Haibun Monday ~ Mezza Luna

Murmur Murmur

Posted on by
9

Well, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it? But here I am, back in Stanza-land, and what better way to come back than a writing prompt from the folks at dVerse? Today, Sarah challenges us to choose from a number of paintings by artist Lee Madgwick, and use the painting as inspiration for an original poem.

I will post the painting below, but first, the poem.

Murmuration:
Murmuration refers to the phenomenon that results when hundreds, sometimes thousands, of starlings fly in swooping, intricately coordinated patterns through the sky.

NPR.org

Murmur Murmur

Murmur, murmur, murmuration.
Endless swirling iterations.
By what compelled? No explanation.
I won’t venture speculation.

Like pointillistic illustration,
a thousandfold their compilation.
As one they dance their presentation,
and none claim “leader” designation.

At dusk they merge, no hesitations;
mingling, calling salutations.
This roiling mass staves off predation
as they scope night’s destination.

Starling flock cooperation;
flights that defy computation.
I murmur my appreciation.
Murmur, murmur, murmuration.

Murmuration, by Lee Madgwick

Forgettable

Posted on by
1

NaPoWriMo Day Three. Today’s prompt:

“This one is a bit complex, so I saved it for a Sunday. It’s a Spanish form called a “glosa” – literally a poem that glosses, or explains, or in some way responds to another poem. The idea is to take a quatrain from a poem that you like, and then write a four-stanza poem that explains or responds to each line of the quatrain, with each of the quatrain’s four lines in turn forming the last line of each stanza. Traditionally, each stanza has ten lines, but don’t feel obligated to hold yourself to that! Here’s a nice summary of the glosa form to help you get started.”

Here goes:

“If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.“

from If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

If no memorial service is held for me

upon my timely (or otherwise) demise,

that is fine.

My preference is to be

memorable — hopefully in a good way–

rather than memorialized.

If I’m forgotten altogether, that is fine, too.

I’ll have forgotten you, if slowly as my mind dims, or

in the event of an unfortunate outcome,

if suddenly.

But why speak of death?

There are so many other ways

to be forgotten.

I am not ashamed to admit:

I forget most people, places, and

happenstances that come my way,

so it is only fair–

if fairness is a thing–

that once our paths diverge,

you forget me.

Thinking out loud now,

though you’re not here to hear me,

perhaps it’s best to be forgotten.

Life is not about me, after all.

Instead, please remember

all things living, plant and animal,

whose demise we can stay,

or at least delay.

Look for these opportunities.

Do not look for me.

So many of us have forgotten our way,

or even our why.

We have forgotten our humanity, our decency.

These things I will try to remember,

and perhaps by remembering them

and practicing humility and kindness,

I will indeed become memorable.

Regardless, when I’m gone, please

allow me to slip from your mind,

for I shall already have forgotten you.

Bird Talk

Posted on by
4

Day Two NaPoWriMo prompt: Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem based on a word featured in a tweet from Haggard Hawks, an account devoted to obscure and interesting English words. 

I used the tweet pictured below, which gave the words for the sounds certain birds make.

Herewith, my poem:

Oh, Dr. Seuss, you silly goose,

you loved to glacitate.

You wrote that owls go hoo hoo hoo.

In truth, they cucubate.

Your nonsense rhymes, those made-up words,

a lazy way to write.

So many real words just as fun,

and downright erudite.

A rooster doesn’t “cock-a-doodle do”

when he cucuriates.

And the hen’s response might well be “cluck,”

but — to rhyme — she glocidates.

Toward “wockets in pockets” I hold no grudge,

but to my ear, it grates;

like the striddly stry of a peacock’s cry

when it so poopity pupillates.

Road Trip

Posted on by
5

Bloganuary Prompt for January 2: What is a road trip you would like to take?

I’m not much of a traveler. I find plenty of adventure right in my own back yard. Literally. Now, my definition of adventure may not match yours. Like the epitome of boredom: watching grass grow, or watching paint dry… I happen to enjoy both of those pastimes.

So when it comes to dreaming of road trips, I’ll stick to the one I took last October and will retrace next month, Washington State to Colorado.

My trusty buddy Chules and I left home on a Wednesday, two days later than planned due to an utterly random case of vertigo (me, not Chules). We dropped down from Vancouver, WA into Oregon and headed east along the Columbia River.

glimpse of the Columbia River east of Hood River, Oregon

There would have been a lot of cool stuff to see along the way. The Columbia River Gorge is always scenic, The Bonneville Dam is – well – there. The historic town of Pendleton, OR is home to one of the Pendleton Woolen Mills, and offers tours of the mill as well as outlet shopping for their way cool blankets and clothing. If I were planning to sight see, I would probably continue east from Pendleton and fit in a stay at Joseph, OR to revisit the multiple bronze sculptures around town and to tour the bronze foundry.

But, alas, we were destination focused, so we turned southeastward from Pendleton, and made it to Nampa, Idaho before I had to stop for the night. (My vision only allows for daytime driving.)

worrisome skies in Utah

The next day, we traversed Idaho, briefly dropped into Utah and then headed east into Wyoming, where we spent our second night in Rawlins, WY.

Rawlins, Wyoming

If I were going to dally in Utah, I might have visited the Great Salt Lake, and headed east from there to the Dinosaur National Monument near Vernal, UT. That would have then led me through some national forests and over the Rocky Mountains before arriving at my daughter’s home in Centennial, Colorado.

Snowy mountains in Colorado that we passed through on our return trip

Instead, we took a more northern route across Wyoming to Cheyenne, WY and then down through Denver, CO to Centennial.  The best thing about the trip was arriving in Centennial and getting to visit my six month old granddaughter.

And while I was there, I was able to watch grass grow while I weeded out part of their lawn. And I was able to watch lots and lots of paint dry as we repainted their living areas.

Chules watching grass grow
Violet watching paint dry.

What could possibly make for a better trip than that?