Matchless

Posted on April 17, 2019 by Maggie C

NaPoWriMo, Day 17. Due to the demise of my computer, my muse has been forced to sit silent for this past week. But we’re back!

Today’s prompt:

Write a poem that presents a scene from an unusual point of view.

flame

Matchless

Rrrrtch tssss whooos.
Match strikes to life.
Sulfurous head turns black,
then glows orange-red.
Blue flame encircles the head,
turning yellow as it reaches upward.

Match touches wick.
Wick resists, but then
accepts the flame with a
complaining sizzle and pop.

Flame dances brightly to the
rhythm of an invisible breeze.
Wispy white smoke coils up and away.

There’s warmth in the watching,
shadows chiseled by the light,
danger cloaked in tenuousness.

And then, Pifft!
Match is extinguished, and all that is left
is that copycat flame perched ridiculously
atop a flimsy wick and weaving like a drunk parakeet.

NaPoWriMo, Day 17

Droplets

Posted on April 16, 2019 by Maggie C

water

Rain drops, water falls.

Sometimes it gets sloshed and spills.

Clumsy H2O.

Crash for Cash

Posted on April 8, 2019 by Maggie C

Day Eight of NaPoWriMo. The prompt:

Today, I’d like to challenge you to think about the argot of a particular job or profession, and see how you can incorporate it into a metaphor that governs or drives your poem.

I’ll let the phrase “crash for cash” drive my poem.

Crash for Cash

Put pedal to the metal,
don’t let them get away.
Faster than fast, hit the gas
if you’re gonna play.

Gotta get ahead now,
catch them in their own lane.
They won’t even know you’ve
beat them at the game.

Don’t give them time to guess;
road rage or reckless chase.
They’ll let you lead the way,
they’ll settle for second place.

Not here to win the race,
you’re here to get the prize.
Slam on the brakes, let them
hit you in the backside.

> ~ ~ <

They’ll say it’s your fault.
You’ll say it’s whiplash.
They say they’ll sue you.
You say you’ll take cash.

It’s how the race is run,
not about who wins the race.
Wanna know what I think?
It’s all about who sets the pace.

How to

Posted on April 1, 2019 by Maggie C

Day One of NaPoWriMo. The prompt:

[W]rite poems that provide the reader with instructions on how to do something.

Herewith,

how to

How To

There’s so many things I’ve yet to learn,
like where and why and what and who.
So who said what, why is it where
most try to teach “how to?”

How to fall in love;
how to win it back.
How to lose the oaf
when his façade cracks.

How to earn big bucks
quick and easily,
how to file the forms
for your bankruptcy.

How to win respect from
those you disdain,
how to show concern
with sympathy feigned.

I won’t tell you how
to live your life.
It takes patience, care
and sometimes strife.

But I’ll gladly show how
to change your and my luck
with just four installments
of twenty bucks.

It’s here: NaPoWriMo

Posted on March 31, 2019 by Maggie C

NaPoWriMo celebrates National Poetry Writing Month, where one writes a poem a day for the entire month of April. As I did last year, I am participating by responding to the prompts given at the site NaPoWriMo. net.

The “early bird” prompt for today: “Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poetic self-portrait. And specifically, we’d like you to write a poem in which you portray yourself in the guise of a historical or mythical figure. “

So here we go!

woods

Self-Portrait as a Sasquatch

It seeks me out,
hunts me down…
the commotion, the cacophony, the confusion.

I want none of it. It hurts my head.
I seek refuge in the cooling shadows of the forest.

I become curious, though, and
come out of the woods,
down from the mountain,
dare to be seen

only to discover nothing has changed;
the commotion, the cacophony, the confusion…
my head hurts.

Retreating back to the shadows, I content myself
with the serenity of keeping my own company.

The warmth of the sun brings sustenance to my soul,

but it’s not yet time.

Asking Bella

Posted on March 2, 2019 by Maggie C

Bella

From where did you come,
and where did you go
before you came here to me?
What happened to make you fear
crates and loud noises and the prospect of
being left alone?

Who put you in a cell
with bars and bare cement floors
and people parading by to stare?
How did you choose me
to be the one you would enchant
with your soulful chocolate eyes?

When will I have done enough to thank you
for the privilege of walking this path
with you?

I can imagine answers to my questions,
but I will never truly know.
Of course, some questions have no answers,
and that’s okay. What matters is that
you are the answer to me, and
I am the answer to you.

For Emily and Bella

V.J.’s Weekly Challenge #37: Story