NaPoWriMo - 9th poem

April 9th

Howling for the moon

The night now leaves you howling for the moon

Since he has taken all you had away

Now all your hope is cast upon the dune.

Those heady days of summer back in June

He harvested like bundled bales of hay

The night now leaves you howling for the moon.

By day you search the fields, the beach and swoon

Where once you loved beneath the sun’s hot ray

Now all your hope is cast upon the dune.

Your heart and life still sing, but out of tune

You sing for him as time ticks from each day

The night now leaves you howling for the moon.

You can’t forget the way he left at noon

Your aching heart and no words left to say

The night now leaves you howling for the moon

And all your hope is cast upon the dune.

Focussed? Well, sort of.

There was this incident on Thursday evening that reminded me of a scene from the film Men In Black.  Our class was over a Morley College for a poetry writing exercise.  The gallery had a display of ceramics and the purpose of this exercise was to find an object to write about and use the voice of the object to write a poem.  It was the writing down that took my mind from poetry to a certain film.  There were only two chairs in the gallery which the potters were sitting on.  We had to balance our notepad on our arm to write our notes and that's when I thought of that scene where the wonderful Will Smith is in this big room with other candidates sitting in a pod-like chair trying to complete a test.  Balancing the paper on his knee, breaking his pencil etc. logic wins out and he drags over (screetchingly) the only table in the room to lay down his paper.  That is still my favourite bit of the film and it still makes me laugh. For us we grabbed a chair when it became vacant - it was a bit like the game musical chairs.

Anyway, I did manage to focus eventually, found an object to write about and am at present trying to draft my poem about a ceramic lobster in a pot (I kid you not!)

The Poetry School online course had live chat on Monday.  I still can't find a voice there and I am beginning to think 'chat' is not for me.  My poem received very good feedback - it was a humorous look at struggling with numbers in Villenelle form.  Wasn't sure how it would go down but people enjoyed it.  The third, and last, assignment is to mix things up, take the Villenelle as far as possible without losing structure.  Sounds too complicated for me.  I've edited one I wrote a few weeks back which is more or less a 'bog standard' Villanelle which I will use if I run out of time to produce anything different.

Villanelle revisited

Recently I posted a piece on writing a Villanelle with links to sites with poetry examples.  I thought I might now share with you my only effort into this form of poetry, written a few years ago. It might encourage you to have a go.  I'd say that first you need to think of words with many rhyming alternatives - if you pick something obscure  you will struggle!  Write out all the words that rhyme first and think of lines that can be used several times over without it changing the context of the poem.  This form of poetry (like some others) has a system which at first I felt took away the creativeness of writing (for one who likes free verse).  However, it is a good discipline to try.  It is challenging but highly satisfying when you get to the end!  Think of it like a crossword.  Leave it , go back to it, change it.  Tackle it with a light heart - don't let it get to you.  Now, go to it!

Passing Years

To think that once my legs would shake

My body glow, my pulses race

What difference passing years can make

I used to think my heart would break

Each time you welcomed her embrace

To think that once my legs would shake

And all I saw and heard was fake

For she was always in my place

What difference passing years can make

There always seemed so much at stake

I wondered, did you read my face?

To think that once my legs would shake

I left you but for my own sake

Departing from this fruitless chase

What difference passing years can make

And now there is no dulling ache

I hold my head with pride and grace

To think that once my legs would shake

What difference passing years can make

___________

Borrowing from the words of Monty Python....And now for something completely different.  Reading the title poem from Wendy Cope's poetry book Making Cocoa for Kingsley Amis reminded me of a dream I had a few nights ago so I wrote these few lines in similar fashion....aplologies to Wendy Cope (and yes I do often have weird dreams!)

Writing a Song for Coldplay

Last night I had a dream that 

I wrote a song for Coldplay

It's not a classic poem

But the title's rather quirky

(I never said it was good!)