Day 12: Blue Snow (For Brooklyn)

(U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Jeffry A. Willadsen/Released)

Blue Snow (For Brooklyn)

Like petals falling from our view
Your loss now added to our snow
Compassion bright as any blue
Like petals falling from our view
Our spring, a timeless deja-vu
We wait our turns to fall below
Like petals falling from our view
Your loss now added to our snow
***

NaPoWriMo Day 12: The Triolet:

For today’s prompt (optional, as always), I’d like to challenge you to write a triolet. These eight-line poems involve repeating lines and a tight rhyme scheme. The repetitions and rhymes can lend themselves to humorous poems, as well as to poems expressing dramatic or sorrowful moods. And sometimes the repetitions can be used in deceptive ways, by splitting the words in a given line into different sentences, and making subtle changes, as in this powerful triolet by Sandra McPherson.

Years ago, I was addicted to writing triolets, so this was a welcome blast from the past.

It was also a good way to honor the passing of a shipmate I served with on the USS Ingraham from 95 until 98. Ronnell “Brooklyn” Warren passed away on March 30. Dude had a photographic memory and knew my full name, date-of-birth, birthplace, and social security number even twenty years later, which should’ve been somewhat alarming, but he was just so damned kind-hearted, and it reflected well upon his character that it never even occurred to him to use his superpowers for nefarious means.

Quite frankly, Ronnie was the kindest, sweetest man I have even known. He was also a poet with an optimistic voice.

He always had a kind word for everyone. He was one of the few people in my life whose positive attitude made me want to step-up and just be better to get on his level. Hell, I think he loved the 90’s Chicago Bulls more than I did! I heard that he went quickly and unexpectedly, from a heart attack, but I don’t know the details.

It made me think about how we will all soon be parting from one another.

I’ve never dealt with this type of loss well; I tend to stuff it down where the feelings can’t hurt me anymore. And though we hadn’t spoken or kept in touch since our ship’s decommissioning ceremony, this is a most unkind cut that will take some time to stuff down.

Ron, your passing over was most unwelcome news. I’ll drink one for you. We have the watch, shipmate.

Day 11: Fate of the Lilies

Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay 

Fate of the Lilies

it was an Easter Sunday
she wanted the white lilies
or maybe they were tiger
or stargazers; who can say

I’m no botanist for sure
but I gifted them to her
roots in-tact for repotting

she squealed with impish delight
showering me in kisses
I fought her back, kiss for kiss

she said she loved me, then gasped
asking if that was ok

I assured her that it was
and that I loved her as well

when can I see you again
she asked between prolonged hugs
her sparkle drawing me in

as soon as we are able
I said, strengthening my grip

she blinked back tears with a wink
cramming with delicacy
her potted plant and body
into her car to depart

I’ll text you when I make it
she said with one more blown kiss
she was true to her word, but

I never saw her again

looking back, it hurts to breathe
but still, it was for the best
as we were from different worlds

I don’t know what lilies mean
but the ones I got for her
are probably long dead now.
***

NaPoWriMo Day 11: Today’s challenge – Language of Flowers:

Our optional prompt for the day is based on the concept of the language of flowers. Have you ever heard, for example, that yellow roses stand for friendship, white roses for innocence, and red roses for love? Well, there are as many potential meanings for flowers as there are flowers. The Victorians were particularly ga-ga for giving each other bouquets that were essentially decoder-rings of meaning. For today, I challenge you to write a poem in which one or more flowers take on specific meanings. And if you’re having trouble getting started, why not take a gander at this glossary of flower meanings? (You can find a plain-text version here). Feel free to make use of these existing meanings, or make up your own.

I found out retroactively that the white lily is associated with purity and is often used as a funeral flower. Also, in Buddhism, tiger lilies represent the virtues of mercy and compassion. Make of that what you will.

Stargazers symbolize lots of stuff. Google it for yourself. This blog poem about flowers is over!

Day 10: Divine Healing

Image by Sanna Jågas from Pixabay 

Divine Healing

Gnosis
absorb, consume
breathe, inhale, know

Osmosis
residual perfume
unsheathed, impaled, flow

Symbiosis
mutual bloom
conceived, prevailed, nouveau

Wholeness
reverbing womb
perceived, unveiled, outgrow
***

R.I.P. Bill Withers

NaPoWriMo Day 10: The Challenge; the hay(na)ku):

Today’s prompt (optional, as always) is another one from the archives, first suggested to us by long-time Na/GloPoWriMo participant Vince Gotera. It’s the hay(na)ku). Created by the poet Eileen Tabios and named by Vince, the hay(na)ku is a variant on the haiku. A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words. You can write just one, or chain several together into a longer poem. For example, you could write a hay(na)ku sonnet, like the one that Vince himself wrote back during NaPoWriMo 2012!

This one was fun to tinker with. I could use a good breather micropoem prompt emphasizing brevity, but still, for some reason, I tend to overthink things. We could all use a breather from overthinking and licking our wounds that come from the isolation, fear, and unfathomable loss stemming from this COVID-19 pandemic. I’ve tried creating mostly escapist poetry, as many of my talented colleagues have already delved deep into the realism of our current state.

I know we’re all suffering in some way, and I also know that spring always returns. Hang in there, everyone.

Day 9: Heart-Shaped Dispensation

Photo by Robin Spielmann on Unsplash

Heart-Shaped Dispensation

                        I often                                              wonder
               who came up with                       the valentine-esque
          shape of candy hearts,      as   it resembles nothing of the
      real thing; the vascular     juggernaut seemingly balled into an
    angry fist, forcing fluids     and nutrients to their destinations, no
     thought ever given to its      alleged fragility, or odd tendencies
        for breaking upon rejection,    betrayal, or loss; still though,
            then again, upon reflection,     after experiencing each
                    of these things personally,      at the moment of
                            impact, it was my own    chest I grasped
                                  at, hoping to ease    the pain. Still,
                                           it’s an odd, silly     design,
                                                     though, but     for
                                                          now, I will
                                                              allow
                                                               it.
***

NaPoWriMo Day 9: The Challenge:

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a “concrete” poem – a poem in which the lines and words are organized to take a shape that reflects in some way the theme of the poem. This might seem like a very modernist idea, but poets have been writing concrete poems since the 1600s! Your poem can take a simple shape, like a box or ball, or maybe you’ll have fun trying something more elaborate, like this poem in the shape of a Christmas tree.

Obviously, I went with a heart shape. Perhaps less obviously, I tried to put a crack in it, but it came out rather wonky. Well, at least I tried.

(A special thank you to Maureen Thorson for featuring my Day 8 poem on her NaPoWriMo site. I’ve never been moved to write for the site traffic, but the unique hits here have gone through the roof, and I greatly appreciate all the new poets and readers visiting me. I’m a bit overwhelmed right now, but I will do my best to visit each of you as well.)

Day 8: A Poem Beginning with a Line by Sylvia Plath

Photo by Warner on Unsplash

A Poem Beginning with a Line by Sylvia Plath

Musky as a lovebed the morning after.
As blue a sky vintage toxins could allow.
Remnants of when playing it cool was disrobed.
Careful not to drop breadcrumbs, out slipped the tongue,
afraid of what could be left unexplored, lost.
What was said, now muddled; tangled, dangled sheets.
Secrets spilled upon linen, taunts veiled in smiles.
Favors returned in earth-suckles and shudders.
Reflections! How urgent! Come through! Come, midnight!
Fat and black, moonless regrets are swallowed whole.
At sunrise, only faint aroma lingers,
pushed aside by a faint whiff of breakfast as
only briefly, hunger displaces hunger.
It all makes sense when thinking of that first kiss.
Still don’t know of the why, but glad of the how.
***

NaPoWriMo Day 8: “…peruse the work of one or more of these twitter bots, and use a line or two, or a phrase or even a word that stands out to you, as the seed for your own poem. Need an example? Well, there’s actually quite a respectable lineage of poems that start with a line by another poet, such as this poem by Robert Duncan, or this one by Lisa Robertson.”

NaPoWriMo nailed it with this one. They even provided me with a Sylvia Plath Twitter Bot, and anyone who reads me probably had an inkling that it was either going to be Plath or Poe.

Day 7: Iron Rain

Photo by Cedric Letsch on Unsplash

Iron Rain

Three-hundred, ninety years ago,
as millions of Central and West Africans
traveled involuntarily towards bondage
across the vast Atlantic in irons,
light began its unimaginable journey
of hundreds of trillions of miles
from an undiscovered star-system
where iron vapor condensed,
raining down from a night sky
of a planet twice the size of
our King Jupiter that none yet
on our good earth knew existed,
the faint light finally reaching
our astronomers last month.

News travels fast it seems,
but I guess for some,
not fast enough.
***

NaPoWriMo Day 7: Write a poem based on a news article. I chose the suggested article, “Researchers Discover Faraway Planet Where the Rain is Made of Iron”.

Day 6: Eve’s Side-Eye

God/Jesus with Adam and Eve, Hieronymus Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delights, c. 1480-1505, oil on panel, 220 x 390 cm (Museo del Prado)

Eve’s Side-Eye

I’m gonna take the fall for this, aren’t I?
it’s clear from the Holy One’s grip on me
His glare into the heart of man, unmoved
my wrist upturned, defenseless, submitting

Adam’s dumb gaze affixed on His judgement
obedient, naked, dense, stupid beast
bet he really thinks I come from his rib

fruitful and multiply like rabbits, eh?
guess I have no say in the matter then?

mother of original sin? how droll
mother of sciences is more like it

He may well yet bring me to my knees here
but despite my side-eye, I won’t stay there.
***

NaPoWriMo Day 6: “…write a poem from the point of view of one person/animal/thing from Hieronymus Bosch’s famous (and famously bizarre) triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights.”

I gotta be honest here; I hated this prompt. I didn’t enjoy viewing the art nor all the nightmare fuel within it (and there’s a lot going on here). Your mileage may vary, but I was pretty close to skipping this one when my eye caught the scene of God/Jesus, Adam and Eve. That scene compelled me to write this.

Day 5: Short Spring

Photo by Devin Avery on Unsplash

Short Spring

over time, trauma is a thief of joy
two fingers of bourbon mug the mugger
spring oozed into her room nonchalantly
embracing us with equanimity
her voice cooing we shouldn’t do this now
her lips tasting of why haven’t we yet
the fire in her almond eyes read mine
we chose the same musk-knotted adventure
music was jealous of our harmony
you introduced me to Martin Gore and
I didn’t get him, but through you, I did
I’m jealous I missed your London punk scene
and all the parts that broke you apart
we were both trauma and broken things
we been runnin’, done ran, till we bumped heads
finding joy in tending each other’s shards
I lived to cut myself open on you
seducing you into seducing me
say I won’t rise to meet your velvet taunt
your tongue had already run us through
I marked you as mine when your teeth pierced me
by the thinnest skin of goddess sinew
we loved, clear-eyed in the blackest of night
as the box-springs sang je t’aime, je t’aime
you took my life each time I surrendered
only to find your dear Eeyore renewed
I’ll re-steal this joy, returning to us
delightful, bottled beautiful struggle
thus was the elixir of our short spring
***

NaPoWriMo Day 5: “Twenty Little Poetry Projects,” developed by Jim Simmerman. The challenge is to use/do all of the list below in the same poem, or as many as possible. This was extremely challenging, but also super engaging. I kicked off my shoes, threw out the punctuation, meditated on a topic that frequents my thoughts, (I was born a dirty old man. Sorry/not sorry) and started tinkering. I fudged some of the criteria, but I honored the spirit of all twenty requirements.

Here they are:

  1. Begin the poem with a metaphor.
  2. Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
  3. Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
  4. Use one example of synesthesia (mixing the senses).
  5. Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
  6. Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
  7. Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
  8. Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.
  9. Use an example of false cause-effect logic.
  10. Use a piece of talk you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).
  11. Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . .”
  12. Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
  13. Make the persona or character in the poem do something he or she could not do in “real life.”
  14. Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
  15. Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
  16. Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
  17. Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.
  18. Use a phrase from a language other than English.
  19. Make a non-human object say or do something human (personification).
  20. Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that “echoes” an image from earlier in the poem.

Day 4: Even the Sweetest Ones

Photo by JR Korpa on Unsplash

Even the Sweetest Ones

It all flattens to simplicity,
stretching to infinity, as in
its edges transcend my perception;

dimming, fading, not like sad, last embers;
not joyously, as sunset aftermath;

but impassively, as the stage scene ends
in that space of quiet contemplation
where audience breathes uneasily
before giving way to rapturous applause.

That is the way all my dreams end, only
the applause never comes through the dark
and I’m left to ponder in this stillness

that maybe this is what awaits us all
when we settle into our final sleep,
converting even my sweetest dreams
into voiceless, realm-voided nightmares.

Sometimes, a ghost’s hollowed whisper is sought
over muted emptiness of end-scenes.
***

Metallica: One

NaPoWriMo Day 4: “…write a poem based on an image from a dream.”

Day 3: crashing a block party over on fullerton…

By Flickr user: Seth Anderson Chicago https://www.flickr.com/photos/swanksalot/ – Flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/swanksalot/331315405/, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22585050

crashing a block party over on fullerton…

the boom to the kick
and then in comes the improv
to the moon, riding thick
when the sun bows and dissolves

too soon the pulse quickens
when the fun begins
she said her sign is the twins,
I’m trying to get in them skins

so I’m lying like I know
about the horoscope
like I try bending flow
like I’m skipping rope

even though I hate the shallow
like a misanthrope
I play the rope-a-dope
hoping to feel her cantaloupes

she say nuh-uh,
you a Capricorn,
yall’ boys are too uptight
I said if our minds vibe right,
I would beat the daylight

to her bedsheets,
we could creep like TLC,
or wile-out like Janet
anytime, anyplace,
I don’t care who sees us
on this planet

she played me to the left,
calling me thirsty like Rice Krispies
but not being risky, she
slipped me her digits,
knowing she frisky

bystanders threw it in my face
like I was vexed by her reply
but I knew she was two-faced,
just like all sexy Gemini
***

NaPoWriMo Day 3: basically, use Rhymezone and a random book off a shelf to create a palette of rhyming words to construct a poem.

This one didn’t grab me, so I modified it a bit, using both Rhymezone and a quasi-freestyle from words that popped in my head while listening to a 90’s Hip-Hop song (the one imbedded above).

It was pretty fun. Reminded me of when we would gather in hallways banging out beats on the walls while “passing the mic” around to each other.