Tag Archives: napowrimo

And the hour draws near.

One last quip / tanka for NaPoWriMo 2010:

closing out this month
by thanking those who always
give their words to air
never expecting return
but feeling the sky open

(Time zones do rather remove the drama.)

A kinda silly terminal entry for NaPoWriMo 2010

I started being silly and clichéd to loosen up for another idea I have, but this stumbled out.

it’s the final night
and still i must write
palm thwacked against face
words laugh at my chase
quicker than my wit
they do confound it
left in swirling dust
ideas turn to rust
falling apart they
never find their way
except slowly down
into the deep ground
a fertilizer
from each separate burr
that ground against sky
as words said good-bye
and were buried deep
feeling sky’s tears seep
through the hard kernel
’till after vernal
up sprout words their own
that words’ scorn had sown
stretching out their leaves
unfurl to perceive
the light breath of wind
and feel the sun’s grin

Thanks again and again to the contributors at ReadWritePoem and at Poetic Asides for prompts, poems, and feedback.  You could say I used the “free prompt” at RWP, but it feels more like it used me.  Left me with smile, though, so I can’t complain.

(Oops. And I can’t count. Fixed a line. Except that I really do pronounce “separate” with two syllables. Sorry.)

The penultimate NaPoWriMo for 2010

Something that returns as front page news again and again.  Not quite the RWP prompt, but this is something I still can’t quite face.

The Earth is bleeding
they say, but it’s not quite true.
Blood doesn’t poison.
They always forget the Earth
wears her life on the outside.

And the reason for being short:

project proposals
take crucial time away from
projects in progress

NaPoWriMo #28

For some reason, my head kept twisting today’s RWP prompt from intuition to inspiration, perhaps because I need some.  Quickly written during lunch before diving back into proposals and project reviews:

facets of light
falling all over

splashes of warmth
tinged with chill

run curved paths
engage the senses

trigger tiny thoughts
flowing into ideas

then dry off
trying to remember

before they’re drained

And a bonus senryū that ultimately is related to the Poetic Asides prompt:

mountainous deadlines
darkly crowd narrow paths to
final completion

And, really, related to the mountainous deadlines keeping me from reading, commenting, and thanking people.  I do appreciate all the wonderful comments and encouragement.

NaPoWriMo #27

Trying to remember the fun part with today’s RWP prompt:

Just a quick note
another in a long line
sometimes stretching clear ’round the block
outside, waiting, drizzled upon, fading, but
never once butting ahead.

Well, um, fun in the sense that I just wrote it quickly without endless frittering.  Now off to my mountain of technical writing.

Hunting morels

I don’t consider this finished, but today’s RWP prompt pushed me to at least bring it to light.

Train your thoughts on the image
and let your senses wander the ground
Look for undulating forms, pockets cradling
caught light until it flows softly as
something else entirely
different with how it treats the eyes
softly against crinkled brown litter

You know you have the right idea when
every perforated leaf, tight tiny pinecone,
dried prickly blossom tugs your senses.
Each opens possibilities sprung from the
season’s fertile ground
permeated freshly with Spring dampness
that yields to the morel’s firm insistence.

You’re searching for a different light than
the rest, a glowing, blushing white that’s
not the typical white, a glowing, soft black
that’s not the typical black, in all for
light that’s atypical
coming from within the Earth at dusk and dawn
all washed away by featureless midday light.

Whatever you do, don’t look up away into
all that openness shoving the true ground
to back ground, fluffing details to pillows
resting your eyes outward. You need watch
little things subconsciously
when they spring from those few moments
when the world opens, ready for them.

NaPoWriNo #25

Weekly errands and the RWP prompt stumbled into another senryū:

Hello, it begins.
What passes next continues
without true meeting.

NaPoWriMo, the factorial of four

I’m not comfortable wearing free verse.  So I’ve tried it again.  I like imbuing structure, and this one didn’t quite want it.  Something here falls flat for me, too, but I’m feeling flat after the last week.  I might have pushed the prompt-found phrase, one more for the road, too obviously.

dusky storms and a wren in the dark
calling out one more for the road
and really the clock nags it’s time
to go to solo alone in place and
place one foot in front of the other
one. more for the road than the stop
that sequenced placement for progress
though pulling the stop alters tones
sounding out all crazy ideas stumbling
escorts the same simple route adding
one more. for the road home through
light splashes and wet beams is just
long enough for gestating ideas to
desires just one more step turn and
there’s the door. in and hit the bed,
one moor’d fore. the road’s outside
now and with it all those thoughtful
escorts dismissed by the nod with
not even a good night kiss.

If I wouldn’t throw off the sampling, perhaps wearing better free verse would be my immodesty for Boobquake.  Or I might throw off the sampling anyways.

Senryū and an American sentence

In the hard crash after a week of non-stop people.  I don’t cope well.  There’s a cool prompt today at RWP to add to the pile I haven’t yet used.  Might return to it this evening.  Calling these today’s work is a bit of a stretch, so I’ll come back with something later.

Senryū:

the only woman
how horrible it must be
all eyes stand on you.

incoming douchebags
often bring out those feelings
undeserved but true.

American sentence:

Where some see lines, others feel sight pulled taught across imagination.

NaPoWriMo #23

I need to clarify that this is neither autobiographical nor really following the current cool RWP prompt but rather a tanka sketching a scene seen earlier this week as people approached an Army wife:

damn she’s beautiful
sitting there and making friends
eyes laugh with delight
and next to me sidles up
the bar’s consolation prize