NaPoWriMo are you taking part?

April is NaPoWriMo and I've just signed up through The Poetry School. Having not really written any poetry for a while now I thought this might help. I always enjoy the challenge and end up with poems I wouldn't write otherwise. If you feel the urge to take part you can sign up too through their Campus. Or you could join in other ways. There will be lost of prompts out there through the official site. You can share them through their sites and/or on your own blog or Facebook.

Although I'm likely to be without internet for the first few days I guess I can catch up later. Maybe see you around one of the sites, here or on your blog. Let me know if you are taking part. Leave a link to your poems.

NaPoWriMo - Day 30 - The final frontier, off prompt and going out with a bang?

Ah! The very last day of NaPoWriMo. Today's prompt is to write a translation. I know no other language enough for that and guessing just from the look or sound of word doesn't cut it for me. I've never really understood translation unless you speak that language. So, I decided to go for an off the wall tragic comedy poem! Maybe I should re-title this The Writer's Last Stand! It is a bit of fun in a macabre sort of way - my humour can be that way! Hope you have enjoyed my month of poetry. I missed a couple of days through (a) forgetfulness and (b) no time, but I've had a lot of fun with the rest.

Deadline

She noticed the smoke (or was it steam?)

wafting through the garden,

but she had a deadline to keep.

On a whim (or was it concern?)

she made a half-hearted move

towards the window to observe.

But she had a deadline to keep

and she returned to the laptop

tap, tapping the keys in urgency.

There was a smell of smoke (or was it…?);

her husband may have lit

that cigarette. Hadn’t he given up?

It was the roaring (or was it a splintering?)

that annoyed her, niggling her mind;

she had a deadline to keep.

The noise penetrated her work space.

Ignoring it she worked fast, so fast that she grew

hot. Sweat was pouring off her.

Then there was shouting (or was it a scream?);

husband downstairs yelling from the door

but she had a deadline to keep.

The sirens were the last straw, how could

she work under these conditions?

Did no one understand the urgency?

She had a deadline to keep for God’s sake!

And as the flames licked at the walls

she tapped her way to the last………

NaPoWrMo - Day 29 - I remember

The penultimate poem for April in the NaPoWriMo challenge. The prompt is to write a poem on the theme of I remember. I found great pleasure in writing this....all that nostalgia! This is perhaps one of my most revealing poems about growing up, of the ordinary days, and I think most people of my era will associate with at least some (if not) most of it. There is one line in there which I think might get you wondering....ah the freedom of childhood back then!

My Nana, Mum, my brother and me!

Back Then

I remember the year of 1965, a tent in the garden,

               Mr Tambourine Man on the radio, June, the heat.

I remember Monday mornings, washing flapping

               on the line, clean-sheet smell, cold meat for lunch

I remember those long school holidays, grey August days,

               clouded and wet before the sun and steaming fences

I remember wearing my jeans in the blazing heat and

               a bikini in the garden, red blotches on white skin

I remember the dart board on the shed door, the knife

               I used to arrow into the grass, the thud, the holes!

I remember watching insects for hours, the ants moving eggs,

               the woodlice I kept in a box, the worms I cradled.

I remember my brother’s scooter I raced round the corner

               of what we called the concrete (these days aka patio!)

I remember building an assault course for the dog, getting her

               to jump the sticks, and here I honed my footballing skills

I remember the hours spent in my room inventing new games,

               listening to rock and pop, taping the top twenty on Sundays.

I remember before we had a video the arguments over programmes,

               and then with a video arguments over what to tape

I remember how I took it all for granted, the safety, the love,

               the family unit, the laughter. I remember.

I will always remember.

NaPoWriMo - Day 28 - 'A story in reverse' poem

Writing a story in reverse is today's prompt for NaPoWriMo (day 28). I had to write it forward first! It can be read both ways:

How we got here

After breakfast he left with his suitcase

And I went to bed.

I laughed.

He reminded me of a clown.

I mud pied him with stew and dumplings

And he laughed!

Food had congealed on the plate.

He was so late 

Timing wasn’t his thing.

He never phoned.

Day 27 - NaPoWriMo - poem with long lines!

I think I hit writer's block today. No inspiration. The prompt for day 27 of NaPoWriMo is to write a poem with long lines. I struggled with this and ended up back with something which mentions the moon again (obsessed? maybe).

I'm sure this could do with a good edit. Still, here it is:

The Night Movers

After an hour I go downstairs into the dark kitchen where the moon

casts shadows across the worktops, the sink and the taps.

I stare out through the window across the garden and search the night

for any kind of life beyond the fox and the bats and the owls.

Across the way there are no lights in windows, they stare back

in hollow black rectangles, curtains drawn on sleeping forms in dream

or nightmare, and here I am making tea in the kitchen with the light off,

clearing the draining board of the dinner dishes ready for morning.

I look to the moon, her starkness outshining everything in the sky,

the dark backdrop her canvas. I wonder if I am the only one watching.

Somewhere out there must be others moving through a darkened house alone,

making tea and pondering on the vastness of the night sky.

All those shift workers on tea breaks, staring from windows,

driving home down empty streets before the sun comes up again,

entering a sleeping home and watching the TV on mute, music on headphones

so as not to wake the sleepers. We shift silently through halls and rooms.

We are the night movers and the sleepless souls who are in tune

with the humming fridge and ticking clock, the settling of the house, the oddness

of noises, reading in dimmed lights as the hours creep by. And all the while

the silent moon moves through the night, ever watchful, ever our companion.

NaPoWriMo - Day 26 - Call and response poem

Today for NaPoWriMo the task is to write a call and response poem. Here is mine:

Morning Ritual

Call now my brothers, call now my sisters

Come the sun, come the day.

Rising again from horizon afar

Come the sun, come the day

Inching above the dark frozen earth

Come the sun, come the day

Hail to the God of morning’s new birth

Come the sun, come the day.

His fingers are fiery, his temper is hot

Come the sun, come the day

Bow down before him in reverent praise

Come the sun, come the day

For he is your strength, your lifeblood, your life

Come the sun, come the day.

Let us now sing as he raises his head

Come the sun, come the day

Raise up your arms, let him shine on your face

Come the sun come the day

Hail to the God of morning’s new birth

He is here! He is here! All hail to the sun!

NaPoWriMo - Day 25 - first line from another poem

Day 25 of NaPoWriMo is to write a poem that begins with a line from another poem. It just so happens that I have one of those! It comes from a Paul Farley poem.

Weathering

(inspired by Paul Farley with acknowledgement to him for my first line!)

Is mine the only heart out in this weather

battling against the ache of the unspoken in the wind,

the deluge of rain tearing down the sky?

I tried to leave it behind by a cosy fire

but it is so attached to me that I cannot wrench it away

and its icy fingers numb my chest.

It is self-indulgent, wallowing in pity

I tell it a joke and it shuns me. How can you? it says,

can’t you hear my anguish?

I wish to abandon it, leave it with the lost souls,

trade it in for an unhurt model or one that can withstand

the weathering of emotional turmoil head on.

NaPoWriMo - Day 24 - off prompt to a Spoonbill

I'm way off prompt today but I wanted to try something I've not done since I took a great online course with The Poetry School called Adventures in Form. We did this crazy thing using a Spoonbill Generator . You type in or paste your text and then submit it to get many weird versions. Basically it replaces each noun with the seventh one following in a dictionary. It's called a N+ generator and it so much fun! (actually it gives you N+1 - N+15 so you can choose which version you want).

So today I put in one of my old poems in and I've chosen N+8 as my result. Give it a go yourself.

The original poem is as follows:

Coming after you

Where only ghosts can seep

Where no door is barred

Where I can drift unhindered

And catch you off your guard.

Where only silence hangs

Where only fear lives on

That’s where you’ll find me

Though you thought I’d gone.

When cold fingers grip you

Where presence endures

When over the shoulder

Reveals nothing obscure

Where deeds come to haunt you

And keep you awake

That’s where you’ll find me

With nightmares to make.

*

The poem through the N+8 method is thus:

Comment after you 

Where only gigolos can seep 
Where no dope is barred 
Where I can drive-in unhindered 
And catholic you off your guidance. 
Where only silver hangovers 
Where only feedback lives on 
That’s where you’ll find me 
Though you thriller I’d gone. 

When collation fires groin you 
Where presidency endures 
When over the show-off 
Reveres novelist obstruct 
Where defendants come to haycock you 
And keep you awake 
That’s where you’ll find me 
With nipples to make. 

NaPoWriMo - Day 23 - Sonnet

I fear I am getting lazy. This will be the second day in a row that I have dredged up one I wrote earlier for NaPoWriMo. I am ashamed at my lack of stickability for writing something new. Oh woe is me!

Okay, today is write a Sonnet day and this one is an apology to Shakespeare for it's rampant plagiarism but I like to think he would have smiled. Well, may be not. I think I have been looking for the chance to use this comedy of errors and here we are! Waste not want not.

Sonnet

(with apologies to Shakespeare)

If I compare thee to a summers day

Thou would be dour and less than perfect

Rough winds may shake the darling birds of May

But nothing could ever make thee worth it.

Sometimes your temper rolls like stormy wind

Gusting through my life without a care

Well, let me tell thee something, thou art binned!

When I get back, don’t want to find thee there

Like summers lease thou hath such short a date

The light went out the moment anger raged

Your attitude to me soon sealed your fate

And all those sorrys now seem, frankly, staged

No more to fall at your attempts to woo

That ship has sailed, go find somebody new.

NaPoWrMo - Day 22 EARTH DAY

Today is Earth Day and the poetry prompt for NaPoWriMo is to write a poem in honour of the earth.

Tectonic

The earth breathes,

long intakes, shuddering through the cracks,

spinning plates in grind and bump,

aligning, separating in mini quakes,

ignoring the nature of man to tame –

he cannot.

The inner core seethes in deep waters,

oceans wash through as it breaks,

steaming, spitting, tumbling in hissy fits,

and the earth goes on its business, shifting,

settling, setting continents adrift

and others to collide.

The planet trembles,

uneasy, the mantle is rocking against shell,

the thin crust stretches, fractures,

ripping earth apart, forcing it upwards,

always moving, pushing on relentlessly,

unable to stop.

NaPoWriMo Day 21 - a sea story

For today's NaPoWriMo prompt see here. To write a poem from the viewpoint of a minor character from a fairy tale or myth was a challenge too far this early in the morning. However, my poem today comes from a picture accompanying a trance mix I was listened to as I wrote. I have tried to capture that point where myth, reality and dreams merge. It was a sort of stream of conscious. So, while not truly sticking to the prompt there is a shade of the idea there....a very tenuous one!

Sea Story

I know this place,

I have been here in my dreams,

seen this sea wash this shore

as the sun dips the horizon.

I remember the children’s voices

echoing across the miles

shrieking like the gulls,

circling the golden sky.

The tide rolls in a thunder,

my ears catch every nuance

as it speaks the language

of mermaids and lost cities

and back to when the world began.

I am hypnotised by its stories

and dream - reality and myth merge.

I am here. I know I am here

watching debris wash in, torn nets,

my life in broken pieces of wood,

floating, rhythmically turning

in the ebb and flow.

I taste the salt on my lips,

healing hurts only my dream hide;

the sea holds a promise

to wash away those dark places.

I kneel on the sand, sinking

into pools of icy loam, they rise

in threat, cover me, numbing me,

renewing me. I am whole again.

I know this place, this ancient sea,

I have been here before

I hear the voices of children

and recognise my own.

NaPoWriMo - Day 20. kenning poem (I think, sort of!)

And so we reach day 20 of NaPoWriMo and I'm still hanging in there. Today's optional prompt is to write a Kenning poem, which is using two word phrases to describe something in metaphor  - I think I've got that right! I don't think I've quite got this one, though, as looking at my poem I have only two different two word phrases. Anyway, I'm on the right track.

Windmill

You sideways-spinner

whirling through the air,

windblown and alone.

When you are silent,

your sails halted by stillness,

those long arms of yours stretch,

pointing star-like,

and then there you go again

creaking as the wind puffs up

circling, cutting a fine shift,

round and round, moaning

softly to the whine of the wind.

NaPoWriMo Day 19 - a 'how-to' poem meets a 'found poem'!

Well I set myself a challenge today. Thinking I would go off-prompt again I found myself with a surprise poem that fitted in it's own way. The idea for day 19 of NaPoWriMo is to write a 'how-to poem'. I was stuck for ideas and decided to do sort of 'found poem'. I chose at random about the same amount of lines (or part lines) from two books - one Britain - One Million Years of the Human Story and The Arts Good Study Guide from the Open University! I jumbled up the lines and then put them together in some sort of order. I did not add any extra words or take any out, though I did run some lines together (from different publications) and alter some punctuation. What I ended up with was a sort of 'how to' poem!

How to Study One Million Years of the Human Story

When the magnetic north and south poles trade

it is essential to learn to speak the language;

talking to others releases

large number of potentially very dangerous

humans in Europe. That this was the case -

look at each of them more closely,

cheekbones and chin.

Transportation of a great amount of kit

allows you freedom to listen to a local beach walker.

Understanding of the course you have been studying

would have served the main access point;

Certainly you are meant to think about what

an exam is when you gather

the spread of arid, cold conditions.

Be precise in analytical writing the more complicated they seem.

Fundamentally changed views?

They serve to increase the amount of the sun’s energy.

The social agenda is even more tricky!.

NaPoWriMo - Day 18 - off prompt - random five words

Most of poems have been written really fast this month. I've tried not to overthink things. Not sure if fast is a good idea but it has made me focus and decide quickly what I'm writing. Today I've decided to go off prompt for NaPoWrMo and write a moon poem. I have over the last couple of years been writing a series of moon poems (some better than others!). This time, even before I decided on the theme I picked five random words (a device I use to get me writing when ideas don't come). Here they are and the poem that came out of them.

(random words) leaf       Black     marathon            hour       ivory

Moon

Your ivory face, full in the black sky

with jewels at your fingertips,

chasing the sun.

It’s a marathon journey, global;

you’ll never catch him, though

you have caught me.

I watch you arc hour by hour

then fade like a skeleton leaf

in the blue sky morning.

Day 17 - NaPoWriMo - Specialised words

I've gone all arty for today's poem. The optional prompt is to use words from a specialised dictionary and use at least ten of the words to form a poem. I dug out my Discovering Art History book and used the glossary to help me write what you see below.

His muse

She had the face of gypsum

against a palette of primary colour.

She patterned his space and when she smiled

she was tessera in the sun.

In the fading light she was a Caravaggio masterpiece

with all the elements of chiaroscuro.

Colonnades of hair split into a triptych,

a tracery of lace at her throat.

He painted her from all angles to saturation point.

At night he kept her in an amphora for safe keeping.

NaPoWrMo - Day 16 - making concrete images?

Something a bit concrete today? The optional NaPoWriMo prompt for day 16 is to fill out an Almanac Questionnaire in five minutes and then write a poem  based on one or several answers (real or imagined). I have to say that thought this might be a waste of time (yea of little faith) but I'm pleased with the result. In fact I ended up using some of the questionnaire words as part of my poem and/or incorporating them with other images they sparked. I probably would never have written something like this without a prompt!

Home

In the city where buildings loom into the night sky,

where books are read by mothers in warm bedrooms,

I walk the borders near to the house where I once lived

listening to the foxes bark as they run the alleyways.

Home - where family customs were observed

and sibling conspiracy was a defragmented jigsaw,

where my mother dressed me in the dark velvet dress

with lace collar, clogging, and against all I was.

And the cold bricks fired the cold north rooms

where icicles formed on the insides of the windows.

I dreamed of unicorns and anywhere not here.

I sought somewhere else to make my own headlines.

Day 15 - NaPoWriMo - Doubles

So who's the early bird this morning? Day 15 of NaPoWriMo and here we are half way through the challenge. While it seems a long haul it is getting me back thinking in lines of rhyme and rhythm while experimenting. I've done a lot of that with my poetry - running with ideas. Today's optional prompt is to write a poem that incorporates the idea of doubles. The website suggests using couplets or writing about things that come in twos.

This poem I began with the idea of couplets and then seemed to want to do other 'doubly things'. I'm sure there is a term for this form of poetry. There are echoes of something here (someone tell me what it is?). I've repeated lines in some sort of order. I'm sure it can be improved - this was actually a second attempt as the first was more repetitive and I didn't like it. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this either but I wanted to do something different. So here it is:

Double Take

I see myself on the street,

Glare back, cock my head.

I turn to the window

Cock my head, glare back.

I see myself on the street

My reflection follows,

Glare back, cock my head.

I turn to the window,

My reflection follows;

I see myself on the street.

NaPoWriMo Day 12 - The Index Poem

Here we are at day 12 of NaPoWriMo and today's poem was a tricky one. The idea is to write an Index poem. There is an example on the website. I tried to go with that example and grabbed the first book with an index I had close to hand. I struggled to begin with and then frustrations began surfacing - about what I'd started and about the frustrations of writing. So, I went with the feeling and wrote them down! I returned to certain lines to come up with a different interpretation or change the index word which would work better to my advantage. It was a hard one this, but I do hope you appreciate the effort put in!

Index

(First words are taken from The Lion Encyclopedia of the Bible)

Agrippa, see Herod

Almond, the only nut in the box apart from me is

Archaeology, the ruins of my writing is a form known as

Ass, an animal that pulls carts or writes (see Oxen) is an

Baking, to take one’s mind from negative thought consider

Bliss, when the manuscript is finished, and before the panic, comes

Calendar, not a day goes by when I don’t consult the

Cheese, Red Leicester, Wensleydale and Cheddar make quick snacks and are types of

Cooking, when the fire alarm goes off the family know I’m done

Courgettes, I once wrote a song about

Dancing, when I write something good I go

Devil, what the hell did I see in that

Education, you won’t get a good job without an

English, a mish mash of Anglo Saxon, French, German and more is

Eve, every woman is

Exodus, after the reading someone shouted, ‘to the pub’, and there was a mass

Family, you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your

Footwear, anything goes at home but to make a good impression outdoors you must conform to           regulation

Genesis, the start of all poetry is an experience of

Goliath, a mammoth of a man like this poem is

Grant, an advance for the struggling writer is a

Guy, the man down the pub who buys the poor poet a drink is

Heaven, the place a writer goes when he/she has something published is

Hell, where the poet goes when none of his/her poems are published is

Herod, see Agrippa

Homer, in despair the poet reads

Inheritance, a writer leaves a legacy of work or debts called

Irrigation, pissing on ones words is a type of

Jezabel, the woman inside who scorns my creativity is known as

Job, a form of hard labour where ONE GETS PAID!

Judas, the agent who no longer wants to represent you is

Judges, HA!

Kingdom, the imaginary world where I live is a mysterious

Kings, in my world all writers are

Law, rules that govern writing competitions are known as

Limestone, Glen Campbell sang about a cowboy called….oh no that was Rhinestone!

Lions, England has the three

Lot, as in that’s your

Music, melody is a girl who sings

Music, a song on repeat is

Numbers, I’m hopeless with

Nuts, see Almond

Oak, from my tiny acorn writing will grow works worthy of an

Oxen, animals that pull carts or writes (see Ass) are

Parable, a story!

Pens, mightier than swords are

Quail, flash fiction could be called a

Revelation, writers hope for a

Rich, most writers will never be

Scapegoat, when all goes wrong it’s good to have a

Slaves, writers need someone to supply constant beverages and food - a wife or husband, aka a

Ten Commandments, a list of do’s and don’ts for the aspiring writer are the

Textual criticism, a form of self-flagellation known as

Ur, when words run out all of a sudden say

Vulture, The person who steals your ideas before you’ve got to print may be quicker off the mark but is known as a

Wells, the places a writer draws from to create are

X, the wrong words receive an

Yogurt, a nice clean sweet alternative to chocolate is

Zealots, need I say more!

NaPoWriMo - Day 11 - abstract ending.

Day 11 of NaPoWriMo has arrived. The prompt today is to write about an object or place and then end with a more abstract line. I'm not sure whether I've pulled it off or not but I rather enjoyed writing this.

House

This is the house we built

with its white washed walls

and understated furniture,

a drive through home

with no stopping zone,

an eat on the hoof kitchen

and occasional chair lounge,

put-you-up beds, dim lights,

nothing to spotlight on,

the ‘everyone has that’ books,

the silver framed photo

to prove we live in this come-

and-go house.

I am some place where the sun is shining.

NaPoWrMo - Day 7 - a tritina

I missed yesterday's poem. Not sure how that happened, but I have been busy editing so that's my excuse. So today's NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a Tritini - a shorter cousin of the  sestina. The form is three, three line stanzas, and a final concluding line. Three end words are used to conclude the lines of each stanza in the pattern of ABC, CAB and BCA and all three end words appear in the final line.

Hopefully, I've managed to keep to the pattern (I'm sure someone will tell me if I haven't!). Here it is:

Colours of life

(A tritina)

Orange and yellow are colours of life,

filling up my soul and keeping me warm.

They are my heartbeat running through my blood.

When winter tips her hat and cools my blood,

celebrating earths whitely gift of life,

I dwell on colours that will keep me warm.

Soon the skies will blue while the sun will warm

to run in golden colour through my blood,

and summer will bring all things back to life.

Life is a golden hue, rich and blood warm.