NaPoWriMo Day 30 : Farewell (for now)

And the final writing prompt from NaPoWriMo for 2014:

Today, as befits the final poem of NaPoWriMo, I challenge you to write a poem of farewell. It doesn’t have to be goodbye forever — like I said, NaPoWriMo will be back again next year. If you need a little inspiration, you might find some in perusing this selection of goodbye-and-good-luck poems from the Poetry Foundation website.

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FAREWELL
an etheree
by Dot

bye
for now
another
month sets, thirty 
poems written, one
each day from prompts profound.
some wild, some free, some form bound.
each unique, created with heart
chasing passion and exploration
dreaming on the page in transformations.

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NaPoWriMo Day 29 : Twenty Little Poetry Projects

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The prompt from NaPoWriMo today has many steps. The beginning instructions are below, and you can click on the link to get the details.

This may remind you a bit of the “New York School” recipe, but this prompt has been around for a long time. I remember using it in a college poetry class, and loving the result. It really forces you into details, and to work on “conducting” the poem as it grows, instead of trying to force the poem to be one thing or another in particular. The prompt is called the “Twenty Little Poetry Projects,” and was originally developed by Jim Simmerman. And here are the twenty little projects themselves — the challenge is to use them all in one poem...

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ALBATROSS OF THE CITY

by Dot

When it rains it pours

As in salt as in tears as in troubles

As in water plain pure and simple

Falling from the sky and drenching

Walkers runners bikers caught off guard

Who sputter and spurt and curse toward

Heaven god goddess earth mother gate keeper.

‘O, mio dio,’ D said as she scurried

Toward the open door at the end of the road

Which was waving her forward

Toward the lonely albatross of the city where

The hidden and the unwanted sleep

And the ignored cried in unison about

Injustice and basic human needs and

Dignity rights hunger happiness poverty smiles.

D hurried onward with the taste of hollowness

On her tongue slipping down her throat

Listening to creeping salamanders under her feet

Stir in crimson waves of tart mud flows

And she listens to the heartbeat of the many

Out of sight beyond the banging door

Out of knowledge of that one percent

Who live on the big white hills

Inside gates to keep people out

And prevent overpopulation and diminishing

Of their possessions which are many

Which are vast which multiply on the backs

Of those below but soon the hills will run brown

And yellow black blue red and purple

And the white coated lives will wonder

What happened.

As D approaches the door the voices quiet

The door holds still and the rain

Continues to pour liquid damp wild

On the bicycle the running shoes the bare feet

The tire tracks marking the mud.

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NaPoWriMo Day 28 : In the News

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From NaPoWriMo for today:

Today I challenge you to find a news article, and to write a poem using (mostly, if not only) words from the article! You can repeat them, splice them, and rearrange them however you like. Although the vocabulary may be “just the facts,” your poem doesn’t have to be — it doesn’t even have to be about the subject of the news article itself. Happy writing!

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Valley of the Kings
by Dot

wooden coffins and death masks
bodies in the tomb
antiquities are vital
though the country has failed

ancient sites quoted the princes
and princesses had been raided
beset by insecurity and chaos
three years at the spring

museums, mosques, and illegals
in the discovery of previous eras
according to initial studies
working with the government

remains
were found
excavations
political

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NaPoWriMo Day 27: (really) curtal sonnet

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So today I decided to back up and attempt an actual curtal sonnet. And I did it! Although I am a bit liberal in my rhyming.

The prompt today from NaPoWriMo:
a poem written from a photograph. There are four below, one of which I hope will catch your fancy. But if you’ve a particular photo in mind that you’d like to use, go right ahead.

one of the photos from NaPoWriMo

Movement / Nature
by Dot

Flow me down toward swifter current
as pebbles crunch under circular rubber
and green blades slice through vacant air
Purple and yellow growths sprout and scent
the clouds which rumble in their slumber
while the river meanders by without a care

Human powered machine that I am
outside the confines and unencumbered
by city streets with lights and traffic there
I'm like the water to the dam
wind in my hair

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NaPoWriMo Day 26 : Curtal Sonnet

Here is the prompt from NaPoWriMo for today:

Today’s prompt comes to us from Vince Gotera, who wrote his “family member” poem for Day 20 in the form of a curtal sonnet. As Vince explains, the curtal sonnet is shorter than the normal, fourteen line sonnet. Instead it has a first stanza of six lines, followed by a second stanza of four, and then closes with a half-line. The form was invented in the 1800s by Gerard Manley Hopkins, who used it in his famous poem “Pied Beauty”. So for today, I challenge you to give the curtal sonnet a whirl. It doesn’t need to rhyme — though it can if you like — and feel free to branch out beyond iambic pentameter. 

I incorporated the prompt today with the notes I took immediately following my final float for the Writers' Program at FloatOn last night. I wrote a different piece to submit to them (the writer has to submit a piece of writing within 24 hours after the float) - it was a 'prose'n'poem' and it contained some of these same images, of course. But this is a new poem from my original notes. And I thought I'd try applying the structure from today's NaPoWriMo prompt although, obviously, I skipped the rhyming and iambic (pentameter or not) part; perhaps I can work that in for the next draft of this poem.

Choose Your Own Dreamstate
by Dot

starbeings water trickled down

rolling tossing over bumbling stones

and forecast waterdreams for ancients

of other times or maybe this time

whatever your time I cannot tell

because time is only time in dreaming

tree on the horizon silhouetted by blues orange lavender

waves pulse along the veins containing instrument

of creation or distraction

your choice. choose your own adventure choose

your own vice

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NaPoWriMo Day 25 : Anaphora

The NaPoWriMo optional prompt for today :

Anaphora is a literary term for the practice of repeating certain words or phrases at the beginning of multiple clauses or, in the case of a poem, multiple lines. The phrase “A time to,” as used in the third Chapter of Ecclesiastes, is a good example of anaphora. But you don’t have to be the Old Testament (or a Byrds song) to use anaphora. Allen Ginsberg used it in Howl, for example. This post by Rebecca Hazelton on the Poetry Foundation’s blog gives other great examples of anaphora in action, from Martin Luther King Jr’s “I Have a Dream” speech to Homer Simpson. So today, I challenge you to write a poem that uses anaphora. Find a phrase, and stick with it — learn how far it can go.

I Wanna Be A Writing Cowgirl
by Dot


Her mother said, "it's cold outside and the ground it dirty,
put on your shoes."
So she pushed and wiggled her six-year-old toes
into a five-year-old's sneakers.
Her mother said, "the milk's better this way, mixed half and half,
powdered and skim."
So she sipped and she tasted and she decided
she didn't like to drink milk.
Her mother said, "when you grow up you'll need a real job,
a teacher or secretary."
So she put away her pencil and closed the notebook
hiding her writer's dream in her mattress.
Her mother said, "you'll never get a man if you act like a tomboy,
don't be so tough, let the boy win."
So she hid her strong arm and she let the boy decide
even though she'd written the play.
Her mother said, "don't get too big for your britches, never boast,
never brag; but always do your best."
So she learned how to study, to test, to get straight A's
and remain silent.
Her mother said - many things and most of them
turned out to be wrong.
So she listened and she tried
until she learned better.

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NaPoWriMo Day 24 : Walls

From NaPoWriMo ...

And now, our (optional, as always) prompt! Peter Roberts has been participating in NaPoWriMo for several years now at his blog, Masonry Design. He has the charming and odd distinction of having only written poems about masonry. Today, I challenge you to do the same (for one day, at least), and to write a poem that features walls, bricks, stones, arches, or the like. If that sounds a bit hard, remember that one of Robert Frost’s most famous poems was about a wall.

BUILDING WALLS
by Dot

Some walls are made of materials you can touch
rough reddish brick or smooth round gray stone
maybe woods old or new, stained, painted, or natural,
or open, metal, a wall to see through
to keep an eye on the other yet keep them out
"know thine enemy"
or maybe not.

Not all walls are tangible things to feel
to keep up the boundary between yours, mine, ours.
Some walls are made of
     money and access
     color of one's skin
     religion or spirituality - or lack of
     housing and health care
     mental health status
     gender
     too long of a list

Walls are barriers to keep in or keep out
seen or unseen they are just as effective

But a physical wall is easier to dismantle.
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NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-Three : "homophonic translation"

From NaPoWriMo: 

Today’s prompt (optional, as always), is an oldie-but-a-goodie: the homophonic translation. Find a poem in a language you don’t know, and translate it into English based on the look of the words and their sounds. For example ... [click on over to NaPoWriMo to see her example] 

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ROTISSERIE

By Dot

For I am not daft, but am in need of ceramics.

For I am in need of ceramics, some think me daft.

But no, on my mama, neither windmills nor daftness

Call me a ceramic.

Oh, my mama, poetess, tinhatted tutor

Be daft,

The tinhatted tutor of ceramics

As centers,

As tongues, as frontiers.

Plus oh mamas and parades.

Beat the drum with daftness and parades.

She figures all one ceramics are daft.

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...the original poem...

ROTEIRO

By Nuno Judice

Fui a delft, à procura de cerâmica.

Fui à cerâmica, à procura de delft.

Nos mapas, não vinham nem delft

nem a cerâmica.

Os mapas, porém, tinham tudo

de delft,

e tinham tudo de cerâmica:

as cores,

as linhas, as fronteiras.

Pus os mapas na parede.

Também pus delft na parede.

E fiquei com uma cerâmica de delft.

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NaPoWriMo Day Twenty- Two

The prompt from NaPoWriMo is ...

Today, I challenge you to write a poem for children. This could be in the style of a nursery rhyme, or take a cue from Edward Lear or Shel Silverstein. It could rhyme — or not. It could be short — or not.

The Bicycle Tire

by Dot

A bicycle only needs two tires,

or maybe it needs more.

If one goes flat

and that's all you've got,

then you're walking home for sure.

NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-One

I'm slogging a bit today. Okay, a lot. Here is the poem I have for today (well, yesterday, now).

The prompt was to write a New York School poem - or in that style. I tried. Got a start; didn't get very far and it is a complete first draft. This is a form I want to look into a little more - and will. But for now I'm off to bed (a little too late) - so this is what I have for NaPoWriMo #21.

It is a “recipe” or constraint of sorts for writing a New York School poem (my class read James Schuyler, Bernadette Mayer, Charles Bernstein, and Dorothea Lasky—a heterodox selection, I realize; and listened to Eileen Myles, Schuyler, Robert Creeley, and Ron Padgett via PennSound).Students were encouraged to use as many of the following "ingredients" as possible:  

-at least one addressee (to which you may or may not wish to dedicate your poem)
-use of specific place names and dates (time, day, month, year)--especially the names of --places in and around New York City
-prolific use of proper names
-at least one reminiscence, aside, digression, or anecdote
-one or more quotations, especially from things people have said in conversation or through the media
-a moment where you call into question at least one thing you have said or proposed throughout your poem so far
-something that sounds amazing even if it doesn’t make any sense to you
-pop cultural references
-consumer goods/services
-mention of natural phenomena (in which natural phenomena do not appear ‘natural’)
-slang/colloquialism/vernacular/the word "fuck"
-at least one celebrity
-at least one question directed at the addressee/imagined reader
-reference to sex or use of sexual innuendo
-the words “life” and “death”
-at least one exclamation/declaration of love
-references to fine art, theater, music, or film
-mention of genitals and body parts
-food items
-drug references (legal or illegal)
-gossip
-mention of sleep or dreaming
-use of ironic overtones

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Lindt 90% Dark Chocolate Dreams

by Dot

This prompt is easy for me because

it's a style I tend to use even though I haven't heard of it before.

Though I suppose if I had my MFA I would have heard of it.

But I didn't so I don't -

know I mean?

So who would this famous person be who would know these things?

Would you know?

Are you a celebrity? I'm sure you are - in some way,

in some circle.

We all are, aren't we?

Oh how I do love learning new things.

New styles of writing poetry though

I don't always like them.

They may sit hard in my stomach or churn

my chest to aches of wrenching out forced words or

maybe I'll just have fun.

Like now.

LIke writing about -

Aw, fuckit. It's time for bed!

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NaPoWriMo Day Twenty : Other's Perspective

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NaPoWriMo prompt for 4/20/14 :

"...I challenge you to write a poem in the voice of a member of your family. This can be a good way to try to distance yourself from your own experience, without reaching so far away from your own life that it’s hard to come up with specific, realistic details. But watch out! This type of exercise can also dredge up a lot of feelings. So if you think writing in the voice of your grandfather will be too heavy, maybe try the voice of your four-year-old niece. Four-year-old problems might be a little lighter in scope."

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On or Off the Track
by Dot Hearn

this is not how i want my life to be
this is not what i want in my life
i don't know how i got to this life
to this place where i have to take it

there is something inside which is making me
other than who i am i think but to fix it
to fix me is to make me into the thing
i don't want to be and yet

without the fix i can't function
or so i'm told or so the trail of damage
leads me and others to believe and yet
i don't know if i can stand in this place

if i don't
i lose
if i do
i lose

if
i
can
i

where is
my life
where do I go
and how do i get back to me

without alienating others
get my life back on track
but whose track i don't like this track
but if not this track then what

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NaPoWriMo Day Nineteen : Sea Shells

from NaPoWriMo :

This is a bit silly, but it’s Saturday. I recently got a large illustrated guide to sea shells. There are some pretty wild names for sea shells. Today I challenge you to take a look at the list of actual sea shell names below, and to use one or more of them to write a poem. You poem doesn’t have to be about sea shells at all — just inspired by one or more of the names.

Peruvian Hat     Snout Otter Clam    Strawberry Top    Incised Moon     Sparse Dove    False Cup-and-Saucer    Leather Donax     Shuttlecock Volva     Striped Engina     Tricolor Niso    Triangular Nutmeg     Shoulderblade Sea Cat    Woody Canoebubble     Ghastly Miter    Heavy Bonnet    Tuberculate Emarginula    Lazarus Jewel Box    Unequal Bittersweet    Atlantic Turkey Wing 

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Incised Moon
by Dot Hearn

It's night and the silence hangs on my tongue
while the streets hum and rumble with passage
of time and vehicles. The air is more still
because wind goes dormant at night
unless
there's a storm but tonight there's not
there is only a quiet
as the buses stop
and the commuters are gone
and those left on the streets
have nowhere particular to go
except from here to there
and timelines are fluid
for the most part
or I lie
and the cars filled with passengers
are not aimlessly wandering
and the music pulsing out of open windows
here on the edge of spring
are for others' enjoyment and the riders
couldn't care less.
No.
It's night in the city.
Past midnight and the inhabitants of the city
have changed
from the day crowd to the night crowd
though I am witness to both.
My blood pulses with the moon
recently eclipsed now moving toward vacancy
and I return home.
To read.
And then, to sleep.

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NaPoWriMo Day Eighteen : ruba’i

The prompt (optional) from NaPoWriMo :

"...write a ruba’i. What’s that? Well, it’s a Persian form — multipe stanzas in the ruba’i form are a rubaiyat, as in The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Basically, a ruba’i is a four-line stanza, with a rhyme scheme of AABA. Robert Frost’s famous poem Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening uses this rhyme scheme. You can write a poem composed of one ruba’i, or try your hand at more, for a rubaiyat. Happy writing!"

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Contraction and Release (excerpt)
by Dot Hearn

A woman walking alone along the shore,

among the salt water ribbon stains spotted

with bits of earth and ship and humans;

discards of the long receded tide.

Her toes dig into the sand,

seaweed threads and strands of yellow rope catch

then hang and slip away

as the foot releases itself.

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[note: this is a piece of a longer poem. But this poem may be appearing in an anthology and came out of a Writers' program in which I'm participating - so I am only posting part of it, to preserve it for the other purpose. And - obviously - I did not use the NaPoWriMo prompt today, although it looks like a good challenge for me!]

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NaPoWriMo Day Seventeen : Senses

The prompt from NaPoWriMo: 

...write a poem in which you very specifically describe something in terms of at least three of the five senses. So, for example, your poem could carefully describe the smell of something, the taste of something, and the sound of something. It might be helpful to pick things you have actually encountered during your day: a cup of coffee at the office (“burnt, flat, and joylessly acrid”), or a hyacinth in the neighobr’s yard (“riotously curled petals shading violet-lavender-white, against the dark-green glossy-smooth leaves”). Happy writing!

 

Cuppa in the Morning

by Dot

the metal foil packets are cold in the morning

sharp and smooth, slide between my still sleepy fingers

the white plastic tea kettle boils and with a click I know

it's done it's duty and now

it's my turn

 

I sprinkle the brown powder into the metal cup

dull brushed silver with a heavy plastic

purple

band to protect those now waking up hands

tap the packet on the side

shake it shake it baby

 

and in goes the hot water steam rising

my nose catches the dark musk like brewed coffee

but it's not not yet not coffee quite

until I pull a spoon from the drawer

and stir

stir

 

listen to the clink of the metal spoon on the sides

watch the clear liquid become tan become brown

sip not enough need a second packet

repeat

cold silver packet slip it open in go the grounds

stir

smell

taste

 

ah

just a one-second splash of cold soy milk

stir again

sip

warmth rolls across my tongue

fills up my mouth

smooth morning at the back of my throat

sliding down toward my torso

on the inside

wakes me up

 

ahhh. a cup of decaf in the morning

NaPoWriMo Day Sixteen (plus)

Why I Didn't Write This on the Sixteenth

or letter to my (non-existent) teacher

by Dot Hearn

It's the sixteenth day of National Poetry Writing Month.
No, to be honest, it is now the seventeenth day;
I didn't write a poem on the sixteenth but
I'm writing this poem for the sixteenth because
the sixteenth was a very busy day
with appointments back to back
which ended
with watching Othello again
in preparation
for next week
when we'll be interpreting the play
and interpreting Shakespeare into sign language
is quite complicated
requiring translation from the Shakespeare era English
to modern English and then
and only then
can we begin translating it to
American Sign Language.

So it's really the seventeenth day of NaPoWriMo
but I've written this poem to honor
the sixteenth
which was - did I tell you? -
a very busy day.

NaPoWriMo Day Fifteen : Terza Rima

From NaPoWriMo :

Today, I challenge you to write a poem in terza rima. This form was invented by Dante, and used in The Divine Comedy. It consists of three-line stanzas, with a “chained” rhyme scheme. The first stanza is ABA, the second is BCB, the third is CDC, and so on. No particular meter is necessary, but English poets have tended to default to iambic pentameter (iambic pentameter is like the Microsoft Windows of English poetry). One common way of ending a terza rima poem is with a single line standing on its own, rhyming with the middle line of the preceding three-line stanza. 

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So, I didn't strictly follow this form. But it was a good (enjoyable) process. See my terza rima below.

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Hello, Moon
a terza rima
by Dot Hearn

The moon is round and full,
is visible behind a veil
of wispy clouds and gulls.

We watch, quiet and still
as she becomes a shadow;
await her light on the hill.

Her colors change from sallow,
to orange to rust to umber.
Her body morphs, is hallow.

We wait in silent slumber
for her to re-emerge.
Blood moon, we do remember.
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