I don’t want to be coy about this: they’re disgusting.

Progress: The object poem went so well yesterday that I decided to try another today, and I’ve just finished “An Argument Against Brussels Sprouts.” I think I may do a whole series about food. This is fun. Please feel free to suggest foods about which I may have unexpected depths of pathos and/or passion. Next up: avocados! (In case there’s any question, I am pro-avocado.)

Prompt for today: Read Write Poem is doing where you come from.

Mirrored at joannemerriam.com.

NaPoWriMo Day 11* (Brianna)

Just playing around, really just playing, with a word from the N+7s and in a style I don’t consider my own.  To my surprise, I like where the last 2 lines went.

metronome metronome metronome metronome
tick tick
tick tock
tock tick
tock tock
ticktock
tictok
tctk
tctktctktctktcktkctkcktkcktkfdkcktkfkcktjchtjckuk
tock
tick
mtrnm
mtrm
mtr
tr
rt
mnrtm
mrntm
mtr
metr
metre nom
no more

* I’m skipping/already skipped days 9 & 12 for Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  And I realized somehow my numberings have been off by a day, so maybe I accidentally skipped another day, too?

Sucks

Okay, if four words is now the bar :), I’m golden:

Bring the delusions back.
I ache from staring
into what I am, the quick
and soft and limited
which touches cold and limitless.
Wonder conquers fear
but only dreams can bring me sleep.

Also, I updated WordPress, ladies; please let me know if something breaks while you’re posting.

the kind chickadee hungrily sustained

Progress: I wrote nothing yesterday, because of Barrister’s Ball (like prom for law school), which was fun. I’ve caught up today, using a prompt from the Speakeasy (“Define yourself“) and another from Writer’s Digest (“Write a poem about an object“). My defining-myself poem is only okay, and not very inspired, but the object poem is pretty good, I think. It’s called “An Argument in Favour of Blueberries,” because I recently found out a friend of mine doesn’t like them, and was all, “WTF is wrong with you, lady? They’re blueberries! How can you not like them?” I had no idea I was so strongly pro-blueberry.

Mirrored at joannemerriam.com.

Marina (NaPoWriMary 9)

I started with Joanne’s link to O’Hara, and re-read “The Day Lady Died”, and then randomly looked at all the poems whose first line begin with M and found Pound’s translation of “The Seafarer”. And realized that I wanted to riff on it. So I began:

I sing for myself               words of my own making
to ride out rough times               in rough seas.
The chop and calm               become the same,
the current carries               pain and pleasure
equally away               and equally as fast.

but I am much too tired to keep it up. I want to come back to this one. (This makes the third poem I have swirling that is a translation of an existing poem, all in languages I do not speak.)