Day 30 of NaPoWriMo. And so with a sad heart i say goodbye to NaPoWriMo 2022. It has been an awesome monthlong of writing poetry.
tonight i could sing the most heartbreaking song with mournful melody that could break anyone’s soul apart with a sad refrain that summarizes the agonizing suffering of a heart in pain.
how can there be so much pain in a heart where there is so much joy?
tonight i could dance in the saddest most powerful impulsive way channeling my inner intensely expressive self that may murder the spirits of spectators who feel no wish to dance themselves.
how can there be no other emotion that has the ability to make you feel both indescribable joy and deep fear and sadness, sometimes simultaneously?
tonight i could write the most lonesome poetry for there is nothing more beautiful than to a poem written by poet whose heart is not just broken but shattered in million pieces where no amount of careful skillful hoisting could assemble it back together.
is it really better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?
tonight i could utter the saddest word ever, and it says your name.
Today’s (optional) prompt is to write a concrete poem. Like acrostic poems, concrete poems are a favorite for grade-school writing assignments, so this may not be your first time at the concrete-poem rodeo. In brief, a concrete poem is one in which the lines are shaped in a way that mimics the topic of the poem. For example, May Swenson’s poem “Women” mimics curves, reinforcing the poem’s references to motion, rocking horses, and even the shape of a woman’s body. George Starbuck’s “Sonnet in the Shape of a Potted Christmas Tree” is – you guessed it – a sonnet in the shape of a potted Christmas tree. Your concrete poem could be complexly-shaped, but relatively simple strategies can also be “concrete” — like a poem involving a staircase where the length of the lines grows or shrinks over time, like an ascending (or descending) set of stairs.
my concrete poem above, in case WP messes up with my form 😄
Day 25 of NaPoWriMo – Today’s (optional) prompt is based on the aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live. Perhaps she will be the Madonna of the Traffic Lights, or the Mysterious Spirit of Bus Stops. Or maybe you will be addressed by the Lost Lady of the Stony Coves. Whatever form your dream-visitor takes, happy writing!
i’ve never lost sight of you lately, in my dreams and in people i see you’re the one thing my heart’s been crying for months now with tears in my eyes i saw you walked me through my own childhood the games that children play, to which i failed to do ’twas so fun seeing you skip and hop; shout and yell.
you were there too maybe when i was talking to a friend one afternoon as i couldn’t get you off my mind, you keep coming out through my words the things we would have done together, and the places we would have visited sooner the friends and relatives you would have met around would surely be happy and gay just by mere mention of you.
one night you showed me how your growing days would be carefree and jolly, that’s how you want your days woud be you walked me through the playground you wish to go with the slides and the swing; you taught me to be play along i swear i’d do everything just to keep you and see you smile all along i swear i’d be keeping you company in all that you wanna do i swear to be fun around.
i never lost sight of you and i never i wanted to, for i got your name tattoed in my heart, in my mind and in my soul you will be loved and remembered wherever you are just promise me, you visit me always in my dream show me places you’ve been to, show me things you’ve done.
make me the happiest by witnessing you become the wonderful woman i’ve always thought you’d be losing you is tantamount to losing one pontentially good human being come back anytime soon let’s read my favorite childhood books let’s master multiple wordgames or we could play hide and seek; a game mama failed to do as a child.
but first let me start by calling you Mikaela, which means “one who is like God”.
Day 24 of NaPoWriMo…Today, I’d like to challenge you to channel your inner gumshoe, and write a poem in which you describe something with a hard-boiled simile. Feel free to use just one, or try to go for broke and stuff your poem with similes till it’s . . . as dense as bread baked by a plumber, as round as the eyes of a girl who wants you to think she’s never heard such language, and as easy to miss as a brass band in a cathedral.
his perfume smells murder in the coming even from two blocks away you’ll be churning.
his built reads like a “danger” sign when crossing a bridge under renovation.
he carries a tone of excitement as crazy as a tornado crashing a building.
and his eyes, oh! his eyes its burning like a California wild fire.
not to forget his love is red flag waving war and distraction.
an absolute peril to a woman craving for affection.
Day 23 NaPoWriMo, Today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem in the style of Kay Ryan, whose poems tend to be short and snappy – with a lot of rhyme and soundplay. They also have a deceptive simplicity about them, like proverbs or aphorisms. Once you’ve read a few, you’ll see what I mean. Here’s her “Token Loss,” “Blue China Doorknob,” “Houdini,” and “Crustacean Island.”
doormats are used to dish dirt outside trap dangerous germs from entering the actual main house placed in a doorway, on which we can wipe our shoes on entering any facility. what happens when you allow others to dominate you? you are either a living saint or a doormat.
In honor of today’s being the 22nd day of Na/GloPoWriMo 2022, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that uses repetition. You can repeat a sound, a word, a phrase, or an image, or any combination of thing
i said i love you you said i love you more
i whispered i miss you you whispered back i miss you more
i said i do love you really you said i do love you really more
we could beat rappers vying for rap beat titles
even the pitter- patter of raindrops with our unending exchange of “more”
we love unconditionally as evident in our words and affection
and at the same time we could be pretty mess up on some occassions
for like mirrors we see the beauty yet it we become deadly when broken
i’ll begin with a cliche love truly hurts, so damn bad for it’s true what they say when all is said and done grief is the price we pay for love at least i have my poetry to truly call my own one who never leaves my side come rain or sunshine come holidays or weekends i have my words to silence my thoughts to tamper my grieving soul one who never thinks its sarcasm one who believes in what i say at least i have my poetic meter one who measures the rhythm of my heart one who filters unwararranted tension and when all is said and done when everything else has been written i could just dive, dive into oblivion hang on with silence and be friends with indifference.
there is nothing i can do when my mind is going crazy torrid heated, burning like a hot mid summer day there is nothing i can do when my heart is going crazy wild running faster than the wind could blow a dandelion away and it’s all because of you of your thoughtless, unfeeling consideration of matters around so don’t you ever wonder baby if one day i become a wildfire; unstoppable, unyeilding bouyant, rebellious for now i can only hope that a few more dew drops could settle the growing fire in my heart i hope i pray before it even burn you.