Poetry

National Poetry Writing Month is Almost Here

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

NAPOWRIMO LOGO 2016

 

Hey, all you poets, psalmists, and songwriters out there, did you know that April is National Poetry Writing Month?  Well, it is, and that means it’s time to focus on our meter, rhyme, and imagery. Maureen Thorson, of Washington, D.C., U.S.A., hosts a website devoted specifically to National Poetry Writing Month — along with a project she has christened NaPoWriMo. That project encourages participants to write a new poem every day for the 30 days of April.

Now, you can write any kind of poem you want — any form — any theme. Or you can visit her site every day to get a prompt from the project itself. The site also offers interesting material from a number of different poets, as well as links to other sites that are poetry specific.

So why not jump in and take part in NaPoWriMo this year. I generally participate, although I rarely manage to write 30 poems. But if we each write even 10 new poems in the month of April, just think how much creativity we’ve unleashed.

This year I’m doing something a little different. I love cinquain, and it is about the only form out there that is uniquely American-made. So this year, rather than follow the prompts on the NaPoWriMo site, I’m going to write a new cinquain for each day. I may borrow from the site’s theme suggestions, and I may not. We’ll have to see. But I hope a lot of you participate and post your links to your poems on the NaPoWriMo site.

 

 

~~~

Prompt Nights – Music

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

This week’s “Prompt Nights” theme is music. I planned to write a brand new piece for the challenge, but I just kept being pulled back in my own mind to a piece I wrote some time ago. I know I shared a poem I had written previously for last week’s theme as well, and I don’t usually do that on challenges. But this one little poem just keeps tugging at me tonight, so I’m going to let it have a fresh airing for this new prompt.

 

MUSICAL NOTES SWIRLINGREQUIEM

What? You ask how was my keyboard
Torn asunder piece by piece?
I admit it was my doing:
Thought perhaps my pain ‘twould ease.

For I cannot find my music;
Cannot hear the melody.
Cannot feel the beat, the rhythm;
And, of course, no harmony.

Still, my soul keeps searching, reaching;
Won’t believe the gift is gone.
It once coursed throughout my being;
Every breath exhaled a song.

Every heartbeat set a tempo;
Notes cascaded from my mind;
Even in sleep, my dreams invaded —
Nocturnes delicate, sublime.

Now, I’ve only fleeting memories
Of creating symphonies.
Tragedy beyond my bearing:
There’s no music left in me!

 

 

~~~

 

 

 

Premeditation

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

BUTCHER KNIFE - PUB DOM -- POITR SIEDLECKI. smaller“So tell me, did you kill her?”
“You doubt my innocence?”
“I’ve known you for a long time,
And certain things make sense.”

“Like what? You judge me harshly.”
“No, I just understand:
She caused you grief and sorrow,
And you’re a hurting man.”

“But, still, to think I’d kill her —
That seems a drastic act.
I could not stand much more, but
Other ways can deal with that.”

“But other ways are not sure,
Could leave you open wide
For further persecution
If she came back to your side.

“Besides, I saw the blood stains,
And they your secrets tell.
And then I found the knife that
You thought you’d hidd’n so well.”

“I see … Well, that quite grieves me
Because you’ve been my friend;
Alas, I have no other choice:
So your life, too, must end.”

“A second murder? No way;
Your guilt soon all would guess.”
“Not once they read your own note
In which you will confess.”

“You cannot make me do it.
I’ll never write the note.”
“No need. I’ll type it neatly
Once I have slit your throat.”

The moral of this story
Quite easily could be
That one who learns dire secrets
Should maintain secrecy.

 

(Not my usual poetry, but sometimes you just need to get out of the box.)

 

 

~

 

Prompt Nights – Poems of Healing

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

I hadn’t heard about the “Prompt Nights” writing challenge until this week. And when I saw the current prompt, I couldn’t resist taking part — since ministry in the area of healing is one of the things I do most. So I’m sharing a poem I actually wrote a few years go, but it fits this week’s prompt perfectly.


DR. JEHOVAH RAPHAHEALING FOR YOU COVER - HANDS ONLY - smaller

(Exodus 15:26, Mark 5:25-34)  

Her brow was wet with fever,
And her body wracked with pain.
She did not know just what was wrong,
But the symptoms would not change.
She knew she needed healing,
But she had no way to pay.
Who to turn to; who to trust;
Who to show the way?

A friend said to her, “Sister,
I know a doctor kind.
He cleanses lepers, makes lame walk,
And gives sight to the blind.
In fact, He’ll take on any case,
And cure it every time.”

“Oh, would that I could go to Him,”
She then was heard to say.
“But since I do not know His name,
How can I know the way?
And even if He’d take my case,
I simply cannot pay.”

“My dear, fear not,” her friend replied;
“There is no need to fear.
I’ll take you to Him right away;
He’s really very near.
His name’s Jehovah Rapha; He’s
‘The God that healeth thee.’
And because of His Son’s precious blood,
The healing – it is free!

~~~

Visit the “Healing From Jesus” site.

~

Lent: Meditating On The Sacrifice

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

CROWN OF THORNS ULTRA MODERNTHE SACRIFICE

A crown,
A diadem,
A shackle placed upon the brow.

Bestowed
Contemptuously,
And scarlet robe on shoulders bowed.

The grief,
The agony,
The tortuous, mutilating pain.

All born
By Innocence
To give me peace and health again.

A cross,
On Calvary:
To execute the Father’s plan.

A tomb,
Now empty stands:
He’s paid the price for every man.

~

Miss Cordelia Underwood Loved Hats

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

WOMAN IN HAT ART - JEAN METZINGER - PUB DOM

en.wikipedia.org; public domain; original artist Jean Metzinger

Miss Cordelia Underwood loved hats.
She loved them big and wide, with floppy brim.
She loved them with firm crowns and beaver trim.
She loved straw hats piled high with plastic fruit,
And to the townsfolk, those were just a hoot.

Miss Cordelia Underwood loved hats.
She wore them proudly, something like a crown.
Her favorites had flower gardens hanging round.
The taller, all the better — and as for wide —
In church no one could sit right by her side.

But Miss Cordelia Underwood loved hats.
Each brand new style and fashion caught her eye.
And nothing was too strange for her to try.
So when she saw one with propeller top,
She hurried off to Sue, the milliner’s shop.

Poor Miss Cordelia Underwood loved hats.
And that’s so sad because this story ends
With tears and sorrow for her many friends:
She donned propeller hat one windy day,
And in a heavy gust, was blown away.

 

~~~

Fruit of the Season (also my 1,000th post on this blog)

| Sandra Pavloff Conner
jelly-beans-939754_1920
Courtesy of Pixabay.com

`
Jelly beans are such a happy fruit.
What? You say they are mere candy, not real food?
Why, I beg to differ, sir.
Their nutrition strain is pure:
Refined sugar granulated,
Artificial color sated,
And at this time of the year, so fresh and good.

You can pick them fresh right off the shelf;
In any store, you reach right out and help yourself.
Like the grapes right off the vine,
Clustered tight with their own kind,
Plump and juicy, sweet and tasty;
To discard them don’t be hasty;
Munching them in times of stress aids mental health.

~~~

A Time to Seek

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

ENGLISH COURTSHIPIn love.
I’d like to be.
I miss the fluttering
And thrilling expectation of
A touch.

I miss
The twinkling eyes
That say much more than words;
Th’embrace that quiets, yet excites
The soul.

Romance
Serves mankind well.
It is the vehicle
By which both heart and soul can show
They care.

So wake,
My slumb’ring heart!
You’ve been in dormancy.
Throw off your sleep of grief! Go seek
New love.

~

Gardeners of the Soul

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

American poet S. Thomas Summers wrote a thought-provoking piece on his blog today. Please hop over there and read it before you read mine. The poem below was inspired by his piece as soon as I read it. So here is my humble response to Mr. Summers’ “We, The Poets.”


GARDEN & QUILL 2

 

Gardeners of the Soul

We plant seeds from our souls
In earth packed with emotion and
Watered by the passion we feel for words;
We wait for germination with impatient breath;
Then, suddenly, the buds are releasing
And speeding our hearts to double-time
As we await the birth of the full flower.
We are the gardeners of the soul:
We are the poets.

 

~~~

Valentine Cinquain

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

HEART W. GOLD ARROW w. # 1Would you
Want to be mine?
I need a Valentine.
It’s lonely in this cold, hard world.
Would you?

*

HEART W. GOLD ARROW w. # 2
Love waits.
It’s not pushy.
It just loves — with patience —
And gives both time and space for love
To grow.

*

HEART W. GOLD ARROW w. # 3

Ah … well …
‘Tis sad indeed:
The one I love’s in love.
But not with me. With someone else.
I cry.

*

HEART W. GOLD ARROW w. # 4
Heart pounds;
Palms sweat; mouth’s dry;
Can’t seem to concentrate.
Is this some rare disease? No, wait:
It’s LOVE.

****

Thanks, Mom & Dad — Cinquain

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

MOM & DAD'S WEDDING PIC - CROPPEDParents
Pass on talents.
Their gifting’s in their genes.
My parents gave their writing gifts
To me.

I’m glad —
Grateful that each
Imparted separate gifts,
Now multiplied in me. I owe
Them much.

For if
I could not write
To share my heart and soul,
I could not bear the emptiness
I’d know.

To write —
To share true thoughts
And honest emotions —
To freely give myself in words
Is life.

~~~

Birthday Cinquain

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

BIRTHDAY CAKE 2Birthdays
They come and go.
But when they come, they give
A gift that lasts throughout the year:
My age.

 

Oh my!
My birthday’s here.
And I’m not ready yet.
I’m old enough, so let’s wait ’til
Next year.

 

Happy
Birthday to me.
I wish me many more.
Maybe I’ll begin to count them
Backwards.

 

My day
Was quite well spent.
I got to do nice things.
And even got surprises too.
Four times.

 

In prose, I’d like to say thank you to all of you who sent me happy wishes and gave me such delightful surprises. God bless you.

 

~~~

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star?????

| Sandra Pavloff Conner
STAR = FREE ANIMATED CLIP ART
http://animatedclipart.blogspot.com/2010/04/free-star-animated-clipart.html

Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
No – wait – that isn’t what you are.
My first-grade teacher set me wise:
That stars are really angel’s  eyes
Peeking through holes in pie-crust skies.

So many years have come and gone
Since that odd day when it was done.
When teacher stood before our class
And told that lie. I wanted to ask,
But never would I my teacher sass.

So I kept quiet, but wondered long
About how teachers can be wrong.
Not that she didn’t know the truth;
She did, but relied on our youth
To carry out her unkind spoof.

Thank God that I did not believe;
I’m not so easy to deceive.
For though so young, I had insight:
God’s truth had shed in me its light,
And to that truth I did hold tight.

Now, older, I still ask myself
Why grownups have for ages felt
That, for some reason undefined,
We must plant lies in children’s minds.
When truth would be so much more kind.

We mean no harm, but still it’s lies.
And I have known some children cry
When truth was finally revealed,
And hurt at such betrayal sealed
In little hearts where trust was killed.

Dear grownups, let us stop and think:
These young minds tremble on the brink
Of glorious wonders to be learned.
Their eager minds to us are turned –
In trust – and by truth, trust is earned.

~~~

(First line borrowed from Jane Taylor’s poem “The Star,” published in 1806.)

 

First Poem of the Year

| Sandra Pavloff Conner

newyears_7_bg_123102Ho!  The new year is upon me!
Its first poem must be penned.
I have a new beginning,
And I must to it attend.

Oh, I do not take it lightly
That I have another chance
To reach for goals before me,
To learn a brand new dance.

To dream some happy new dreams,
To reach out loving hands
And touch new hearts with my love,
To help my fellow man.

Ho! The new year is upon me!
It’s running swift and free.
So I must ply both heart and soul
To give it all of me.

~~~