Taunting

Draft for poem six:

poem six

Final iteration:

When you want it to come,
it most often just sits and stares,
and you settle to describe it
instead of just sitting there yourself
in abject observation,
but still, there’s no reward
when Niagara is at your gates
and all you feel is a stray droplet or two,
just enough to tease your thirst
while you drag your bare soles
across the desert,
and you pray that it’s not
an aimless journey,
that your call will be answered
and the dream will come,
but sometimes you don’t arrive anywhere
and the only thing you see
is a mirage
and it’s all you can do
to wait and listen.

Flowers and Towers

I had an idea for some poetic inspiration: find some blank greeting cards with some form of artwork, and write poems based on those images. I think I’ll go as far as to write the finished poems inside the cards, and then leave the cards in some public area for a passerby to mull over. Anyway, here’s the card/image with my journal draft:

poem five yin and yang

And the final iteration of poem number five, each stanza comprised of a lune (five words, three words, and five words per line, respectively – a form which I’ve played with before):

Yin and Yang

Iron pride and beauty dance
in naked space
and give themselves unto creation.

What might we do ourselves
to find peace
between worlds unreconciled and lonely?

Man may raise his towers
but towers fall
and spring blossoms come again.

 

Artwork by Georgianna Lane.

A Narrative

Deepwater Sound (Poem Four), draft:

poem four deepwater sound

Final iteration:

In Deepwater Sound, an old promise was drowned
when a surfeited heart bathed her hands;
as the water waxed red, a false visage was shed
and the truth broke apart on the sands.
As she looked to the sky, there escaped a long sigh
from the trembling smirk on her face;
so enamored was she that, at last, she was free,
she collapsed to the water’s embrace.
A chorus of stars serenaded her scars
as the fires of her anguish did wane,
for in Deepwater Sound, naught would ever be found
of the memories that caused her such pain.

 

Some of them just bubble up from who-knows-where. Honestly, I love it when a story unravels itself and I just have to put pen to paper.

Distractions

Monkey Mind, draft:

poem three monkey mind

Final iteration:

Chitter chatter, Monkey Mind–
how impressively you swing
from branch to branch
and tumble between the leaves.
It would seem
that no foothold escapes you
in your arboreal kingdom
of speculation and fancy.
How thunderingly
your whoops and howls
echo through the jungle
as here and there
you dart and dodge
to see all that you can see.

But below your glances
a rare fruit ripens
in the shade
and you will not know
the honeyed flesh of stillness
until your reign ends
and the forest floor finds you
and you wonder at the taste
of serenity.

 

Number Three channels that awful feeling – or awful thinking, rather – of having too many thoughts in one’s head for too much of the time. Authors might see some element of writer’s block inspired by this overabundance of ideas and thoughts and distractions, as opposed to the equally-frustrating blank slate. Recent experiences with some yoga and meditation may have helped me form this one.

Shorts and Sillies

Okay, poems One and Two seem like cop-outs: they’re quick, they’re easy, and they’re not particularly inspired. But the idea isn’t to write necessarily good poetry – it’s just to get something on the page (and in this case, on the blog, as a way to convince myself I’m actually doing something here).

One’s a lune that reveals what my memory hones in on while meeting other dog people; Two is a take on a familiar verse with less favorable content.

 

1:

It’s nice to meet you.

Got the dog –

What was your name again?

 

2:

Noses are red,

toesies are blue;

the cold season’s come

to make – wait – ACHOO!

 

 

I promise the following works will be more worthwhile. Again, it’s the exercise that counts, right? I’ll upload the rest on Tuesday, when I’ve got some time off.

NaPoWriMo 2016

I’m off to a late start this year, but looking back, the first time I attempted National Poetry Writing Month, I didn’t learn about the project until it was halfway over. While I didn’t complete the challenge that first year, it served as inspiration for me to succeed in the years following.

I hope to reconcile all of these months as I rekindle the project once again: April is halfway through, and I’ve little poetry to claim thus far; and so I commit myself to two poems a day in order to arrive at thirty by month’s end. I began on the fifteenth, which will bring me to a total of six poems today; you can expect separate posts for them shortly (I’ve been writing by hand in my personal journal; I’ll try to scan in those scribblings as I did last year, to preserve the creative process).

If you’ve not read my words here previously, you may find the inspiration for my project at NaPoWriMo’s “about” page.

Here’s to a rewarding second half of April!