Some Kind of New Normal

New nail polish

                                    in dirt

the planting.

            a container (cloudy plastic

                        imported Italian

gelato)

                        Dumpster planters

                                    for   seedling

                                                fill

                        with the fresh dirt.

                        moist seeds

“Plant                                     an inch down.”

                                                                        A single

seed.

            Putting all hopes and dreams into one

seed.

This one.

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net is to write an erasure poem, where you take a text from a book and erase words, leaving something resembling a poem behind. I was trying to actually edit the pages, but it was taking far too long without a paint program and then I couldn’t even upload the document to my blog, so I just tried to replicate what it looked like in the book after the words were delete. From counting by 7s, by Holly Goldberg Sloan, page 254-255. The title is actually from the last words on the page.

What I Know

I miss my daughters.

I know I miss them

more than they miss me.

It is hard to let them go.

I am lucky to be their mother and

I am ridiculously proud of all three of them.

I know I want to protect them from any harm,

but can’t.

I know I love my husband – and to be able to say that

after twenty-five years of marriage

is pretty cool.

I know I am afraid of getting old.

I know I hate the cold and love to sleep.

I know I want red wine and black coffee to be superfoods.

I know I am a survivor, a fighter,

and I am grateful I am not

another Statistic.

I know I love word play

and I like it when I write something
Clever.

I know I want there to be a heaven

and if I die before my children,

I want to be able to look down from there

so I can continue to watch them grow.

Today's prompt from NaPoWriMo.net in celebration of National Poetry Month is to write about what we know.

Where Women are Disrespected

You do know you’d not be on this earth
If the women you hate would have never given birth?

Today's prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net/ is to write a Landay,  a 22-syllable couplets, generally rhyming. The form comes from Afghanistan, where women often use it in verses that range from the sly and humorous to the deeply sardonic and melancholy. Check out this long investigative article on landays http://www.poetryfoundation.org/media/landays.html.

Help Wanted

Attention employers of any degree

I’m begging for someone to answer my plea –

My son is in need of a job of some kind

Be it white or blue collared, I really don’t mind.

It would help, though unlikely from what I deduce,

If his ten years of college could somehow produce,

But what he can do with a Fine Arts degree,

As I’ve told him quite often, is well beyond me.

If you’re looking for grit and a confident voice

I’m sorry; my son’s not the logical choice.

If you’re looking for youth and a flexible bent

I suspect you will need a more qualified gent.

But I know there’s a job my son Morris can do.

He’s great with remotes and with web-surfing too!

His skin is as thick as an elephant’s hide.

Not too much can phase him; believe me I’ve tried.

For forty-five years I’ve supported my son.

Can’t someone please help me? For God’s sake, I’m done.

Today, in honor of National Poetry Month NaPoWriMo.net invites us to write a poem that conveys the same urgency as “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere” which event is celebrating its 240^th anniversary.  So maybe the topic of my poem is not as historic, but…

To the Couple at Tide Line Gallery

To the couple who told me they don’t like the news

For its heartbreaking stories and partisan views

I offer them Facebook to keep up to date –

You read what you want and you don’t have to wait.

No matter the time of the night or the day

You’ll see what your friends and professionals say.

But know you’re entitled to pass anytime

A story relating a horrible crime.

You’ll learn “crocheted shorts seem to be all the rage”

By viewing my friend Reagan Forrester’s page.

And Max will inform you of “Start Wars” release,

Attaching his own editorial piece.

Then see CBS if you’re dying to know

How canines and owners relationships grow,

How blue-collared parents who’d labored with tools

Imagine their son at all Ivy-league schools.

The stories are endless (and often bizarre);

Your outtake depends on how patient you are.

Just scan through the pages of post after post

Hit “like” for the ones that impress you the most.

It’s easy, I tell you. You’ll be in the know.
Join Facebook today for your news on the go!

So the prompt for today, in honor of National Poetry Month from NaPoWriMo.net, is to write a poem relating to social media.  This - the encounter with the couple and the news from Facebook - actually happened today, but my suggestion to go to Facebook for news is not to be taken too seriously.

Looking for Answers

The question I must ask is why?

I know it’s oft’ been asked before.

Don’t troubles vanish when we die?

My mind’s fatigued; my heart is sore.

So tell me why I should press on.

I know it’s oft’ been asked before.

A longing, with my children gone –

The hole inside I’ll never fill.

So tell me why I should press on.

Is reason more than strength of will?

Or is there something else to mend

The hole inside I’ll never fill.

And just how final is the end?

Are soul and ashes turned to dust?

Or is there something else to mend?

At least for now, go on I must.

The question I must ask is why?

Are soul and ashes turned to dust?

Don’t troubles vanish when we die?

Today’s challenge provided by http://www.napowrimo.net/ in honor of National Poetry Month is to write a terzanelle. “A hybrid of the villanelle and terza rima, terzanelles consist of five three-line stanzas and a concluding quatrain. Lines and rhymes are chained throughout the poem, so that the middle line of each triplet is repeated as the last line of the following triplet (or, for the last triplet, in the concluding quatrain). The pattern goes like this: ABA/bCB/cDC/dED/eFE/fAFA or fFAA. You can use any meter or line length, though you may want to try to have all of your lines in the same meter!”

You Rascal

Oh poetry, oh poetry, why overtake my brain,

Why jumble words up in my head to find the right refrain?

Why, like a tyke with certain needs, you won’t just go away

Until I’ve finished writing you by noon or end of day?

Oh poetry, oh poetry, why must you be so strict?

Why interfere and make me change the words I would have picked?

Why stress on meter constantly; who cares where accents fall?

Don’t different reader’s nuances affect it after all?

And what is with this show, don’t tell; can’t someone use his mind

To conjure up the images I’m wanting him to find?

Oh poetry, poetry, I have to shake my head,

But cannot think of anything I’d rather write instead.


Today's challenge in honor of National Poetry Month from http://www.napowrimo.net/ is to write a poem that addresses itself or some aspect of itself.