Oooops, NaPoWriMo Slipped Up On Me

APRIL 1ST -- Alexas_Fotos -- PX
Alexas_Foto@ Pixabay.com

 

A Poet Must Do What a Poet Must Do

I’m not ready for NaPoWriMo.
I should create some kind of verse.
And I’d better get onto it pronto:
It’s already April the first.

A poem with some kind of meaning
Is not always easy to write.
So I’ll just have to settle for something
That’s simple, perhaps even trite.

A jingle with sing-songy wording,
A love poem packed with cliches,
A limerick rolling with laughter —
One a day for the next thirty days!

Well, I can’t sit here just ruminating.
I’m a poet, and my duty’s clear:
NaPoWriMo has issued the challenge,
So I’ll start with this poem right here.

 


For the sake of full disclosure, I will say right now that I do not have any plans to write a new poem every day during the month of April. My work schedule will simply not allow for that amount of added writing this month. But I was feeling giddy about 1:00 this morning, and I figured I’d at least write one little ditty to kick off NaPoWriMo, 2019.


 

NaPoWriMo 2016 – Day 19

BATHROOM DOOR FOR DEVIANTSCinquain # 19: Free To Pee?

Perverts:
Insane lib’rals
Who care so much about
Where sexu’ly psychotic men
Can pee.

~

Visit NaPoWriMo.net.

 

 

 

 

 

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NaPoWriMo, 2015, Day 21 – Erasure Poems

I’m way behind with NaPoWriMo, but I thought I’d jump in and get my feet wet again anyway. I wasn’t too thrilled with the prompt for today, so I went back to yesterday’s prompt. It was to write an Erasure poem. The process involves taking a poem or some other text that has already been written and begin erasing words, but leaving the remaining words in the same order as they appear in the original. Then put those remaining words together (still in the same order), creating a brand new poem.
I actually did the experiment twice. Both times I used a poem I had written in the past. The first piece “Yellow” turned out to offer a light, rather lilting new poem, but it’s just a little quirky and requires a new title and new picture to fit the change.  
The second piece “Snowchild,” amazingly allowed me to erase a whole bunch of words, yet say exactly the same thing in the new poem that I had said in the original. Wow. That surprised me a little because I erased a LOT of words. 
Hope you enjoy both experiments.

SMILEY -- NO CIRCLEYELLOW  (Original poem)

Yellow sun, yellow moon,
Yellow ribbon on yellow balloon;

Yellow crayons for coloring,
Yellow bird that chirps and sings.

Yellow squash ripe on the vine,
Yellow daffodils — all mine.

Yellow hair, with cheeks so pink,
Yellow lemonade to drink;

Yellow duckies, yellow chicks,
Yellow grapefruit freshly picked;

Yellow butter drips and drops
From tender, yellow corn-on-cob.

Yellow curtains, crisp and bright,
Yellow anti-bug porch light;

But yellow has its ugly side:
Yellow fever; could have died;

Yellow-bellied, yellow streak,
Yellow-livered, backbone weak.

And sometimes yellow can’t be seen:
It hides in blue and turns to green.

~

TRAFFIC LIGHT
Clker.com

YELLOW (Erasure Version) 
New Title: “Getting the Green Light”

Sun,
moon,
bird that chirps and sings.

Daffodils –
all mine;
lemonade to drink.

Bright light,
sometimes yellow,
turns to green.

~~~

 

SNOWCHILD  (Original Poem)

BOY AT WINDOW - SNOWWhen I was a child, I thought as a child,
And snow was a thing so delightful.
From school we were free; we got wet to the knees,
And our mom’s day was thrown all off schedule.

But now that I’m grown, I must do on my own
All the chores Mom and Dad used to dread:
Stock up food by the loads, drive on slippery roads,
Shovel snow, and repair that old sled.

Now I look with dismay at the skies leaden gray
As I trudge to the store for supplies.
De-icer and salt sell out fast with no halt.
I need new boots to tread on the ice.

The wind from the north is bitter and harsh,
But my temperature, still it is rising;
I am in a foul mood, for I see nothing good
That can come from a snowstorm arriving.

But then the flakes start, and I feel in my heart –
Watching white, fluffy, wonderful, wild
Filling all of my world with such beauty unfurled –
That in truth I am still just a child!

~

SNOWCHILD (Erasure Version)
(No new title necessary) 

I was a child;
snow was delightful.

Now I’m grown;
I see nothing good
from a snowstorm.

Flakes start, and in my heart,
I am still a child!

 

~~~

 

`

‘It’s All About Feet’ – for NaPoWriMo, 2015 – Day 4

Nothing’s impossible, right?  The folks over at NaPoWriMo believe that because today they have asked us to write a Love poem without using the word “love” or any of the hearts, flowers, or cliches that generally go along with that word.  (Deep breath)  Okey-dokey.  I’ll give it a try. To join in the fun, follow the link to the home site for easy instructions.

FEET, CLKER.COM 2 - creditsIT’S ALL ABOUT FEET

I know is this old world, it’s sad, but true:
Emotional relationships so often fail.
And marriages, though formerly until death,
Now change as fast as color on the nails.

But I’m convinced our troth will still endure.
I’m sure of you as you are sure of me.
I know because we’re comfortable together
When on the same footstool we prop our feet.

What better test of faithfulness and trust,
Than doffing shoes and bravely baring toes.
Our feet look comfy, happy, and complete,
And for commitment’s sake we hold our nose.

~~~
photo: clker.com

‘Solitary Sentry’ – for NaPoWriMo, 2015 – Day 3

Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge: Write a Fourteener — a poem on any subject but having seven iambic feet.  Join the fun. There’s still plenty of time to get into the rhythm of writing a poem a day in honor of National Poetry Month. Click the link above to visit the main site and get the easy rules.

Since iambic heptameter lends itself particularly well to narrative poems, I thought I’d go that route.

photoree.comcreative commons license 2.0 (by-nc)

SOLITARY SENTRY

The giant Oak had reigned supreme o’er farmer Webster’s woods.
But there’d been talk of late that ‘neath those woods lay soil quite good.

And then one day bulldozers came and men with churning saws,
The wood did spew; trees fell – not few – into bulldozers jaws.

The giant oak shook to his roots; his life he held quite dear.
And closer as the enemy came, he trembled hard with fear.

To be cut down and sawed into – the thoughts he could not bear.
And oh the shame – to be transformed into some wimpy chair.

But when the dozer charged his way and scoured to left and right,
It passed him by and left him there, his roots still clinging tight.

Soon all around had been laid bare: a sorry sight to see,
But then one morn, before the sun, came planters bearing seed.

And week to week, with gentle rain and warmest, friendly sun,
The seeds did sprout and then did bear their harvest one by one.

Now mighty Oak stands solitary sentry o’er the field,
And, season after season, hungry folks receive its yield.

And farmer Webster often stops to rest beneath Oak’s shade,
And blesses God for giving land and food for which he’d prayed.

~~~

 

‘Wise Men Still Follow’ – for NaPoWriMo, 2015 – Day 2

Day 2 of the ‘National Poetry Writing Month’ Challenge prompts us to write a poem about the stars. We can use any form and take the poem in any direction we choose. If you’d like to join in the effort to write 30 poems in 30 days (or any number of poems at all) click on the logo and learn how easy it is.

NAPOWRIMO NEGATIVE

STAR & PATH OF LIGHT
WISE MEN STILL FOLLOW

Wise astrologers did travel from the East.
“We saw His star and followed to His place of peace.
We bowed ourselves before Him there on bended knees
And offered homage to the Babe, Creation’s King.”

Throughout the heavens multitudes of brilliant stars
Have burned for centuries and led men near and far.
But only one celestial light can guide the heart,
And men who would be wise still follow Jesus’ star.

~~~

‘My Love is Not a Knight in Shining Armor’ – For NaPoWriMo, 2015 – Day 1

Here we are again to National Poetry Month — and good ol’ NaPoWriMo.  To be honest, April just slipped up on me this time, and I’m pressing to get my poem in. I’m sure I’ll not find the time to write a new poem for all 30 days, but I’m going to go for all the days I can. If you’d like to take part, just follow the link by clicking on the graphic below and go, go, go.

NAPOWRIMO NEGATIVE

Day # 1’s prompt is to write a poem of negation — describing something in terms of what it is not — or is not like.

Exif JPEGMy Love Is Not a Knight in Shining Armor

He doesn’t ride a charger sleek and white;
He wears no armor, and he bears no sword.
He never slayed a dragon breathing fire;
Never received a gallant knights reward.

He never rescued maidens fair and sweet;
He never fought a foe with rapier blade.
No maidens swoon to look on his physique.
His hero medals tarnish, and they fade.

No, he’s no knight in shining armor, true.
But he loves me, and that’s all he needs to do.

~~~

Oh My Goodness! It’s Almost National Poetry Month!

SHAKESPLEARE

 

I cannot believe it. When I think about all the poems I wrote last April for NaPoWriMo, it seems like just last week. How can we be right at the door of the next National Poetry Month already?

Well, one reason it seems so recent, of course, is that I’ve just recently had a book come out that includes quite a few of those poems from last NaPoWriMo, so I’ve been working with them again fairly recently.  But today it really hit me that I’m going to have to get my rhythm and rhyme on and get down to business again next week.  NEXT WEEK!?!?!?   YES!

Last year I was two days behind, so I had to work even harder to catch up, so this year, I’m going to be ready and waiting for April first. And while I’m at it, I’ll just add that I think we should re-christen that day anyway.

From now on we must not refer to April first as “April Fool’s Day.”

 As of this post, I hereby christen April first  “POET’S DAY.” We have a Mother’s Day, a Father’s Day, a Grandparent’s Day, a Children’s Day, a Veterans’ Day, a Secretary’s Day, etc., etc., etc.  So it’s only fair that the world be given a chance to celebrate those rare individuals who lighten the soul, tantalize the senses, plumb the depths of the heart, and carry us away on meter and rhyme and figurative language. LONG LIVE THE POETS!

 

NAPOWRIMO NEGATIVE

If you want to be ready for NaPoWriMo 2014, hop over and check out the preparations underway at the home site:  http://www.napowrimo.net/

 

~

 

 

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NaPoWriMo – 2013 – Day 3 — ‘The Anchor’s Away …’

NAPO 2013 BUTTON

Finally, I am ON TIME!  Today’s prompt is to write a “sea chanty” or “sea shanty,” depending on which historical spelling and definition you choose to favor.  Anyway, we are to write a poem with rhyme and a rhythm that can be used to keep a steady pace at physical work — and it should be connected with the sea as well. Here’s my attempt:

‘THE ANCHOR’S AWAY, AND I HAVE TO GO’ 

SHIP AND CANNON - PDPHOTOchorus
Heave! – Ho! Heave! – Ho!
Over the rim and into the stow;
The anchor’s away, and we have to go.
Heave Ho, Me Mates, Heave Ho!

verse 1
I had shore leave, but now ’tis done,
And I must sale at rise of sun,
To join the fight two weeks begun,
Heave Ho, Me Mates, Heave Ho!

chorus
Heave! – Ho! Heave! – Ho!
Over the rim and into the stow.
The anchor’s away, and we have to go.
Heave Ho, Me Mates, Heave Ho!

verse 2
I kissed my love and wished her well;
Said, “I must make my way to hell;
To win this war my soul I’d sell!”
Heave Ho, Me Mates, Heave Ho!

chorus
Heave! – Ho! Heave! – Ho!
Over the rim and into the stow;
The anchor’s away, and we have to go.
Heave Ho, Me Mates, Heave Ho!

~

Hurry over to the NaPoWriMo site and get involved:
http://www.napowrimo.net/

NaPoWriMo – 2013 — Day 2 — The Pretty Kitty Tale

NAPO 2013 BUTTON

Well, I’m duly embarrassed because I’m still running a day behind. I missed yesterday’s poem, but I will definitely write two today. The one below is in response to Tuesday’s prompt to write “a poem that tells a lie.”  It’s more or less a tall kitty tale.

Striped_skunk (1)The Tale of the Pretty Kitty

Mary Lou was very pretty,
And she had a pretty kitty.
It was black with two white stripes,
And of its smell her folks did gripe. 

But Mary Lou just loved her pet,
So it was with such great regret
That she agreed to have him fixed,
And have his smell completely nixed.

But during surg’ry, kitty died,
And Mary Lou, she cried and cried.
But every night in spirit form
Her kitty did come back to home. 

Poor Mom and Dad could not explain,
The smell that came each night again,
But Mary was content to know
Her white-striped pet still loved her so.

~

Join the challenge to write 30 poems in 30 days. It’s not too late to start.visit this link:  http://www.napowrimo.net/

photo courtesy wikipedia: http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archivo:Striped_skunk.jpg