Day Four

Winter

I hear the snow this winter morn,
a silent breath before my dawn.
Her flakes embroidered to adorn,
I hear the snow this winter morn.
Earth dons her apron newly born
while spring awaits and plays the pawn.
I hear the snow this winter morn
a silent breath before my dawn.

…..

I like the challenge NaPorWriMo gives me. It makes me write in ways I never do. It breaks me out of my comfort zone and I kick my fear of failure aside.

Today is a rhymed and metered challenge. My words are always stifled and feel trite. But I give it a go. It always makes me a better writer.

This poem is a bit better than most. I try to get the thoughts to carry over to the following line, but I’m still hyper focused on rhyme and meter. But I see progress. Yay!

Here is the prompt: “And now here’s another prompt drawn from our archives – and, as usual, optional! Today, let’s try writing triolets. A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet. Beyond this, there is a tight rhyme scheme (helped along by the repetition of lines) — ABaAabAB.”

Day 3

Despair is nothing without disarray
it flies with indifference
and stammers in cacophony
and ceases – not at all

And bitter – out of the Still – undetected
And indolent isn’t drought
It won’t soothe the brute
That released the hostile
And chilled them all

I never heard it in the warm
But in the familiar Storm
And – always within my soul,
It demanded all of me

. . . .

Today’s prompt in NaNoWriMo was a great challenge. I met it with simplicity not changing too much and not worrying about the meter. Altogether too depressing is the outcome. But it was a good learning experience.

Here is the prompt as given: “Last but not least, here’s our prompt for the day (optional, as always). Find a shortish poem that you like, and rewrite each line, replacing each word (or as many words as you can) with words that mean the opposite. For example, you might turn “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” to “I won’t contrast you with a winter’s night.” Your first draft of this kind of “opposite” poem will likely need a little polishing, but this is a fun way to respond to a poem you like, while also learning how that poem’s rhetorical strategies really work. (It’s sort of like taking a radio apart and putting it back together, but for poetry).”

And, of course, the I used.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

BY EMILY DICKINSON

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –

And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.

Day Two

I Am

A tiny pokey bit flavoring a primordial soup.
A yellow eye imprisoned in my soul.
Quivering poison waiting for the downbeat.
Memory preserved by the smallest of crystalline grains protecting its collection.
The gasp of the artillery of death announcing its beginning.
A yearning deeply hidden within an uncracked heart.
Just an unassuming traveler hitching a ride.

Clove. Cyclops. Mercurial. Salt. Thunder. Acorn. Cowbird.
I am.