The Last of 30

I would like a mental room, full of couches and chairs
Where I could literally arrange my thoughts and..

     Figure out where and how to compose myself for a character sketch

     Dim the lights and mysteriously disappear from the room to pen a thriller

     Test the premises for a drama or play

     Recline, briefly, in various locations to compose short stories

     Cling desperately to the love seat to write a tragic romance

     Dive off a footstool and bounce on a sofa to bangout an action adventure

     Tear off my clothes and open the curtains to draft an exposé

     Beam in a futuristic davenport and hover over it to create science fiction

     Strike humorous poses and jokingly topple off the ottoman for comedic effect

     Describe the room in honest detail for a non-fiction article

     Minimize the furniture and arrange it just so to write poetry

     Find a position with a clear view of my reflection for an autobiography



Whew made it! It's been quite a challenge, mostly fun. Definitely recommend doing anything you like for 30 days in a row. Thank you, NaPoWriMo!

Penultimate Poem for NaPoWriMo

Where I Live

Mallard ducks walk down the sidewalk
Sometimes single file but often side-by-side
Snowy and great egrets nest together
A large pine tree is their shared condo

American coots paddle then walk single file
Taking turns politely at a fresh water source
The great blue heron steps back patiently
Letting bikers go by before catching a snack

Human walkers, skaters, bikers share paths equally
Picking up trash and smiling brightly at each other
Looking for a chance to let another go first or help
Okay, the last part I just made up for this poem

Third to Last

In Homage to a Guy in My Class Who Writes Ridiculously Long and Humorous Titles and Would Approve of This One If He Read it But He Probably Won't

His name is real

And he reads a lot

What he writes is hilarious

Except when it's not

Clerihew

My Paul
Handsome and tall
Not one to babble
While winning at Scrabble



A few days ago the NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a Clerihew. Short and silly and starts with a name. Naturally I was inspired by Paul.

Against Sentimentality

schmaltzy, sappy
extravagant
nostalgic
toxic
insincere, indignant
melodramatic manipulations
evasively
naively
tritely trigger
asinine
libel.
isn't
this
you, sentimentality?

Recycled Poem

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

This is a mockery, is it not?

   First, because no one knows.

Second, because we need to think

We know where we’re going:

Into the earth as a solitary wrapped being,

   Or into the ether as sacred ash,

Thrust at once to mix eternally

   With the destination of our choosing.

Except that our blood is separated, rinsed without ceremony

as byproduct. Neither cremated nor buried with us, as us. 

Our life force reduced to flushable waste.

Buried or cremated, no matter!

First action is blood down the drain.

What’s not leaked, lost or splattered

Is simply let into public pipes

With endless liquids and waters. Having no use in current form,

Accepted by county facilities everywhere, to process for reuse.

Soft poetic ending to body + blood

The great equalizer and symbolically correct

For whose blood is royal anyway?

Practiced in a quiet dark room, let’s say,

By the one society has charged with such task.

Oh, just let our blood mix underground

   With others who share the same end time,

With human secretions and golden nectars,

   Whether puss or pee, champagne or dishwater.

One last mix in departure with such fluids

   As varied and random in death as in life.

One last commingle with the human condition

Before being processed, in other words: recycled.

I did write this in April, but not today. Something I submitted to a publication, and got rejected - my first, yay! Sorry to anyone on mobile. It probably won't trickle down your screen the right way.

Sands of Time

For Imbibers

Drunk History

An inebriated narrative carried the night
I toasted my interpretations
Alongside those of my friends
Thus we drunk history
Then burped up notable events
As we discretely yet pointedly
Spat out distasteful viewpoints
Not one drop was left bottled up

Sippers of liquor gave a straight up account
Unless a watered down version was asked for
Wine drinkers were quite knowledgeable of dates
Yet pored over at length how things finished
Beer guzzlers offered barrels of information
That naturally went to their frothy heads
Champagne flutes were filled time and again
As effervescent lectures spilled forth

We tried to rewrite history by the mouthful
Avoiding swill of meaning or bottoming out
As the evening dried up we shared a communal port
Though overly sweet and surprisingly potent
It helped make palatable the most unsavory chapters



Very much inspired by Derek Waters' series Drunk History. 

Earth Day Prompt: NaPoWriMo

Plants and Tides

Surrounded by water
We nurture such plants
Indoors, outdoors
Yards and parks
We've molded them
To impersonate what
We want nature to be

Our tides, forever turning
From moon to sun and back
Wild with rhythms and moods
Barely understood
Free us from what we can't be


Hooray for turning the 2/3 done with NaPoWriMo corner! I took their prompt today, it's Earth Day after all. Only 8 days left.

Day 21 NaPoWriMo

Featured Feathers

With my wings of featured feathers
I fly far and wide,
Arriving on a familiar breeze.

Each faithful feather is unique in fairness and function.
One helps me take flight,
Another to find the ground safely.
One allows me to glide forever on the slightest updraft.
This one defends me from foul play,
And this one fans pure mischief.

I take care to gather my feathers without force.
They are all from different flocks,
And as fierce and fragile as I am.
Just as softly do I offer a feather of my own,
putting faith in a friend.

And Another NaPoWriMo

Today I do this for me
Not quite squeezing it in —
More like attending to a benign presence
That's haunting or following me around

Perhaps it's most like a balloon tied to my ankle
Practically weightless but certainly not practical
Why do I delay freeing myself for so long?
All I need to do is turn around where I am
And untie it. Okay, done.

NaPoWriMo Day 19

oak the poison kind
green in Springtime red in Fall
vile vile vile vile vile


Yes, to no one in particular, I did vow to move away from haiku, but as I was hiking in the Oakland hills this morning it "just came to me". Anyone who hikes here would understand.

2nd To Last Saturday

Man chases the sun

Sun lies low behind fog bank

He stops at shoreline

Yes, it's a beautiful Saturday and I'm enjoying it, so only made time for yet another haiku. I feel a bit like I'm cheating on my NaPoWriMo commitment, but one good thing came out of it: finally realized I can write a short poem that is NOT haiku. Maybe tomorrow I'll go for ultra-minimal.

About Bees in Alameda, Kind Of

It happened in Alameda
The softening of my fear
I thought it would never happen
But, that it did is quite clear

My fear of bees seemed always there
From early on I was stung
On camping trips and playgrounds, too
Hundreds of them while still young

It's not so practical to run
Whenever a bee is near
Today, I don't, not usually
But still don't like when they're near

Our new yard has wisteria
On screens and fences it's hung
Bees love it, going in and out
Of each cluster one by one

They want the pollen, nothing more
Their noise won't sting me with fear
I'm not afraid! I know their buzz
Just means "Honey, please stand clear!"

Day 16 NaPoWriMo

the winds of change

no warning or ceremony
they blow in unforeseen ways
we steady our homes and lives
maintaining a sense of firmness
while knowing intangible gusts
will palpably sway our hearts

NaPoWriMo Middle Wednesday

Fake flowers put out
While waiting for the real ones
To stop teasing me


Just bloom already
You've been watered, fed, cared for
Reveal your beauty






This time of year in California, specifically in my house and yard, everything is in or nearing full bloom! Growing up in Alaska I still have it ingrained in me that Summer == Full Flowers, and I kind of still forget how it works here.

Cheering for Sprouts

Seed is used in bounteous ways
So much material given
The word provides the kernel
Of metaphors and similes
The literal is the germ
From which stems truth, shape, color





Another Sijo for Day 14 of NaPoWriMo a-poem-a-day challenge.

Hooray for ipu (gourd) sprouts! At this point they are indistinguishable, but in the foreground is an Hawaii ipu (yes, seed sourced from Hawaii Gourd Society) and in the back a Californian swan neck. Hope they are big enough to go outside soon.

NaPoWriMo Day 13

Flees when not stone-still

Eats roaches; greens, reds charm us

Hawai'i gecko

I'm not exactly thrilled with some of these, but I'm still getting one out every day, which is the goal. I feel my discipline muscle getting stronger and maybe it builds character, too.

Unless otherwise noted, all photos are taken by me, including this little charmer.

NaPoWriMo Day 12 Will It Never End?

Afternoon Slumber

I feel it coming on
So slowly, at first,
Then it's here,
And it's very, very heavy.

Undeniable.

I've lived long enough
To know not to fight it,
Which makes it worse,
For much longer,
Than if I had just given in.

It's not an illness after all,
Nor a disease or disorder.
I'm only being asked,
By me, of all people,
To skim the surface of sleep.

Like the urge to drag a few fingers
In the water from the side of a boat.
A solitary experience,
Neither painful nor entirely pointless.
Once done, and only once done,
Something private is satisfied,
And you're finally free to move on.

Sijo for Day 11

Another poem in Sijo form. Probably inspired by my dreams of being at the Merrie Monarch Festival in Hawaii.





When I am no longer housed
In this hairy, fleshy sack of bones
Celebrate my exit like a rescue team:
All cheers and hugs
When the small, mended turtle
Is returned to the wild blue sea

Inspired using my very rough — that's an understatement — translation of Charles Baudelaire's La Beauté, the original French version. I only know a little French, and wasn't trying to literally translate it, in case you are wondering how this could possible come about.



Am I beautiful as a river?
If I am, I carry death on tour downstream
It will inspire my poet lovers
Forever on the banks, holding hand with their mothers

Do I dance like a stubborn cat?
He shares one heart with a white goose
Keeps his moves on his side of the line
So that neither gets pleasure or pain

Back to my poets with the large egos
Who hold me roughly, imprinting themselves
Attempting to consume all my days

Of course I prefer the docile love
Between the cat and the graceful bird
Even that doesn't last forever
And always ends with death

Poetry Inspired by Poetry Ad Infinitum

My creative writing teacher, Elizabeth Treadwell, has introduced us to some amazing poets. Yesterday we learned a little about Kim Hyesoon, an award-winning poet. I wrote this poem based on my inspiration from a line of Cloud's Nostalgia from her book Sorrowtoothpaste Mirrorcream.


Borrowed Inspiration

"When I sang all the sweat pores on my body salivated"
The drops hung precariously and didn't drop freely
The gathered into larger and larger drops
Arranged themselves decisively
And used a language I didn't quite recognize to do so
The distraction of this and a creeping concern
Made my singing falter

When I stopped altogether the silence deafened
But only for one second
As on my very next heartbeat
The first proud drop fell precisely
On the keyboard made of leaves below me
Thus I learned to dance in such a way
As to let the water notes fall off my body
And become the creator of my own music

Day 8 Another Haiku

Refound friends! We toast
Our bittersweet history,
Drink in well-aged smiles

Only or Already 1 Week of NaPoWriMo

If you are also participating in NaPoWriMo, does it seem like you've been writing poems for ages? It does for me, but after I finish the day's poem (like now!) I feel great! Please leave any sort of comment and share your blog name, too.

My ideas will often drift, evade and escape me,

Like small dry feathers on water.

To grab at them with great force or speed

Only makes them float away faster and

In the most uncaring way.

I have to stop and admire their agility

While I revise my plan to recapture them.

A Poem and a Language

As I was starting my acrostic ode to the tomato, I had to know: where did the word tomato come from? From the Aztec Nahuatl language (via Spanish): tomatl. Not to go too far off into word geekdom.. but other Nahuatl words you may recognize: ahuacatl, chilli, ocelotl. Fun!

Ode to a Fruit

Totally appropriate in cold salads or hot soups,
Over or under pizza toppings, and
Many other dishes from all over the world.
Aztecs gave us its name. In Nahuatl language:
Tomatl — I shall remember this always.
October is a great month for small, sweet ones.








Image: "Aztec woman speaking" by Maunus at English Wikipedia - Florentine Codex - 1580s.

The writing prompts from NaPoWriMo have been inspiring. I followed one again today. It suggests a "rework" of an Emily Dickinson poem, as taught by Anne Boyer. I kept the title and first line of Emily's Forever – is composed of Nows – but without the endearing long dashes, and rewrote a version, in homage, of course. 

Forever is composed of Nows

Forever is composed of nows
As Tolle says: The Power of Now
Is all we need
There never is a different time

But how is it that Emily
Did say this first in her own way?
Preserve the date
On which she wrote her ideas down

It’s true his ideas followed hers
And came in books while hers, in verse
Remove the dates
No different their fears would be

Let months dissolve in further months
And years exhale for each instance
They were both right
To so explain the moment’s game

Day Four of NaPoWriMo

Today I took the optional suggestion and wrote a "loveless" love poem (doesn't use the word "love"). It's been fun to take the challenge of writing something every day. Plus reading a few of the NaPoWriMo participants each day is very rewarding and interesting!

Loveless

Because I like

his angry face.

Because I regret

not touching him more.

Because we celebrate

each other’s half birthdays.

Because we never try to

repeat a good vacation.

Because he does his own laundry,

but we wash the sheets together.

Because he dances nothing like me

and to a completely different beat.

Third day of NaPoWriMo and still going. I learned today that haiku should not have titles. If they did, the title for this one would be "North of Market".

Man waters a tree
Hose? Bucket? Watering can?
Nope. His private stream














I spent most of yesterday in San Francisco. Finally visited the Asian Art Museum, shopped a little, and had some really good Thai food with Paul. 

NaPoWriMo

Recently, I learned about a form of poetry called Sijo: "A Korean verse form related to haiku and tanka and comprised of three lines of 14-16 syllables each, for a total of 44-46 syllables. Each line contains a pause near the middle, similar to a caesura, though the break need not be metrical..."

This is one of my Sijo poems.

Watching

A bench outside my window
faces west over the water.
At all times of day I look to see
what type of person sits there.
An old woman watching birds today
could be me tomorrow.

NaPoWriMo is NoJo!

Back from Near Obscurity for NaPoWriMo

I could not have predicted it in a thousand years! This is what got me to revive my long-neglected blog? National Poetry Writing Month, which just happens to be April. My wonderful creative writing teacher, Elizabeth Treadwell, mentioned this to us in class. If you're thinking you did not know that I wrote poetry, join the club, because I didn't know either. And no, it's not homework for the class (Elizabeth is awesome that way :). I just decided to take the challenge, because why not?

Disclaimer (because all new, self-conscious writers seem to babble through a standard disclaimer before sharing, present company not excepted): I am poorly read in poetry, never studied it, and prefer to write prose. Furthermore, this first one couldn't be less in a style that I like, but it's done and I'm already thinking about tomorrow's poem.

April 1

Just one a day!
It’s time to play,
but not a vitamin or curse.

Could be a lie,
Told with a sigh,
As long as it’s by you.

It’s not a game
Or stuff for work,
Why, that would be much worse.

If you will try
Then so will I,
And others, they can, too.

So let’s just start,
Take fun and heart,
For poems on April first.

Wow, if you made it this far you must really be tolerant of bad poetry. Just kidding, even I have a limit for self-deprecation. No more disclaimers. Leave a poem you wrote or a link to your own NaPoWriMo site as a comment if you dare!