Category Archives: NaNoWriMo

Blueberry

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I Have Your Back. Acrylic on watercolor paper. #lexleonardartist

Blueberry

  1. Take a handful of blueberries, toss them one by one, her attention, the prize awarded.
  2. They shatter, those berry blue words, like bullet splatter behind her back.
  3. Let their juices flow between the cellophane wall separating you from her with her cherry berry dyed hair.
  4. Draw your berry blue bloodied finger along the line of demarcation, a line for which you shall never pass.
  5. Let her know even though she will not turn to hear, twist to look, let her know you have her back, will you always have her back if she returns.
  6. You will have her back at the slightest drop of a single berry blue rolling its escape from the clamshell carton on the kitchen counter, remind her it was a mistake.
  7. Your hands stained, guilty for there is no excuse, no words to make amends in the blue puddle of berries gone.
  8. Your berry blue words streak sad, speak your words, this be your poem, your truth without remorse, your bloody berry blue words without regret, your poem to her, and to every blueberry lost.

………

Author’s Note..

I am drawn to surrealism and find this writing exploration unsettling. This image I painted has always bothered me and I didn’t know where it fit. I think it fits here with today’s prompt. A good practice piece again to push boundaries, experiment.

From NaPoWriMo:

‘Finally, here’s our optional prompt! Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem . . . in the form of a poetry prompt. If that sounds silly, well, maybe it is! But it’s not without precedent. The poet Mathias Svalina has been writing surrealist prompt-poems for quite a while, posting them to Instagram. You can find examples here, and here, and here.”

Beginning With Light

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Beginning With Light…

Beginning With Light. Acrylic on watercolor paper. #lexleonardartist

Beginning with light,
without it there can be no life on 
top of this plain
where feet, toes curled
tickle dry brown 
interspeckled with tender green 
answering back, 
listening, and yet, too cool 
for bare arms, she accedes —— it is there
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

Back and forth, black wings
from nest to Source
and back again. Dark night
sustenance, a treacherous stillness
unwelcome — but 
a required embrasure 
a grace miscalculated
a path toward light 
That perches in the soul –

In her room a tiny brass box
with lid open spins — en pointe
balanced confidently
a mantram rhythm bound to Self
but free knowing
her purpose, 
her path,
And sings the tune without the words –

She reaches down 
fingers brush dry and green —
it is spring
and turns the wheel to the new 
from dark night, to the light,
the constant springs
And never stops – at all –

……….

Author’s Note

From the kind folks at NaPoWriMo:

“And now for our (optional) prompt. This one is a bit complex, so I saved it for a Sunday. It’s a Spanish form called a “glosa” – literally a poem that glosses, or explains, or in some way responds to another poem. The idea is to take a quatrain from a poem that you like, and then write a four-stanza poem that explains or responds to each line of the quatrain, with each of the quatrain’s four lines in turn forming the last line of each stanza. Traditionally, each stanza has ten lines, but don’t feel obligated to hold yourself to that! Here’s a nice summary of the glosa form to help you get started.”

While I was still teaching, I always shared this video with my first graders during National Poetry Month. It is beauty and grace in words and action. They understood and it was magic watching them moving their arms and hands in concert with the girl even though no one knew her language. We watched it many times.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/video/77372/hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers

Pandemic

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Pandemic.19

I don’t know your slipping away.
I don’t know you but numbers grow
With your decrease. We are afraid,
I don’t know your slipping away
While loved ones mourn. I just stay
Home, my only purpose, to sew.
I don’t know your slipping away.
I don’t know you, but numbers grow.

 

Author’s Note:

Today a triolet: – a poem of eight lines, typically of eight syllables each, rhyming abaaabab and so structured that the first line recurs as the fourth and seventh and the second as the eighth.

From Na/GloPoWriMo;

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.

Dreams

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Dreams, Photograph with PicMonkey, Lex Leonard

The hands have passed twelve i have music in my ears not to wake him twinkle lights in my window because they make me happy and i see the black only one porch light lit it is quiet deadly quiet as one may imagine no cars few planes the wind and i think about those dying as i sit in my privileged cocoon wondering if i will be next regardless of my care and caution and i am sad at the beauty that is lost to this world and maybe She is shaking us off slapping us across the face to make us finally listen to stop and just be be who we are revel in just the basics foot bare to earth wind across my face the birds, oh, the birds, and it will go away and we will have learned from it i hope but i ache for the beauty that was possible and will never be and i want to reach out and touch each one and let them know they are loved and they were enough and they brought beauty just by being and i want to touch those remaining and tell them the same tell you the same in my sadness and privilege in my being why did we ever think we couldn’t that it was hopeless that we weren’t enough we’ve missed the beauty we are and we have been given may this time show us look for the helpers look for the beauty let others see you take off your shoes and walk outside breathe deeply celebrate the little things every day always and know you are loved and you are enough and

i love you

 

 

Author’s Note:

I was up after midnight last night, or, is it today. The prompt for today is about dreams. I wrote this as I looked out this window with deep sorrow in my heart. I can’t find the right words. I see silver linings of what we can be, finally realize who we are and what is important and how to proceed from here. Yet, the loss takes away my breath.

I shall leave this here, although it was not a dream. I feel as though we are living in a dream, if we learn. A nightmare, if we don’t.

From the NaPoGloPoWriMo Folks:

Our prompt for the day (optional as always) takes its cue from our gently odd resources, and asks you to write a poem based on an image from a dream. We don’t always remember our dreams, but images or ideas from them often stick with us for a very long time. I definitely have some nightmares I haven’t been able to forget, but I’ve also witnessed very lovely things in dreams (like snow falling on a flood-lit field bordered by fir trees, as seen through a plate glass window in a very warm and inviting kitchen). Need an example of a poem rooted in dream-based imagery? Try this one by Michael Collier.

NaPoWriMo, Yay!

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I adore spring.Small-Blue-RGB-National-Poetry-Month-Logo

The birds are waking me once again in the early morning. We can open our windows to fresh air. There are thunderstorms and rain to soothe my soul and water Earth.

And soon-to-be-here April ushers in two ways of celebrating this all of this wonder –
National Poetry Month and NaPoWriMo
(National Poetry Writing Month).napofeature3

National Poetry Month is a time I celebrate poetry in many ways, but one of my favorite is with my first graders. We listen to poets, hip hop, the classics, and watch poems that have been
made into videos. They are intrigued enough to write their own
poems and start down the road of the bard.

One of my greatest inspirations, not only this month but all
year long, is Tweetspeak Poetry. I receive an Every Day Poem
in my inbox each morning. Check them out. They also have a
myriad of ways to inspire and share word. They even have poems
to color. And maybe even a free e-book of poetry? Take a look,
especially at their Top 10Sites To Follow For National Poetry Month
to further entice you into poetry.tweetspeakpoetry.com_

 

And….Yay!!!!!! NaPoWriMo!!!!

This is the month long challenge of writing a poem every day. For each day of April, the fine folks at NaPoWriMo list a prompt and a poet. You take it from there. Join me?

I will post my poems each day – a brave thing to do, maybe silly and foolish – but it is a wonderful way to release and quiet that inner editor.

AND, I hope to partake in the  Big Poetry Giveaway 2016. Check back April 1st for more information on how you can win a free copy of my book of poetry, Filters, and one from one of my favorite poets!

In the meantime, sharpen your pencils, dust off that keyboard, get some really yummy snacks and some coffee, lots of coffee. (Oh, I know many of you are tea totes, but that’s okay. You can play, too.)

Let’s get ready to rumble!!!!! And tumble. Maybe even bumble and mumble a bit.

 

The Big Poetry Giveaway, 2014

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Those of you who know me remember my joy and frustration and joy after completing two straight years of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I have two novels awaiting my editing pen. I will get there. Someday. Sadly, this past year I was not able to participate.

However, I’ve been writing poetry. And NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month) whispered my name.

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To celebrate this month of poetry, I decided to participate and commit to writing a new poem every day. In addition to writing and because I also enjoy reading poetry, I took the poetry dare from Tweetspeak Poetry. I was given the name of a poet I have never read. I promise to read one poem a day by that poet during the month of April.

Tonight while poking around a few hours before April 1 entered the scene, I discovered The Big Poetry Giveaway, 2014.  So I decided to share the wealth and greet the month with a giveaway!

big poetry giveaway 2014

My Giveaway

I do not yet have a book of poems published to give away, although two of my monologues can be found in print.  So until my poetry appears on the printed page, I will giveaway one copy each of two of my favorite poetry collections in hopes they will become a favorite of yours, too.

InsideOut: Poems by L.L. Barkat, managing editor at Tweetspeak Poetry, is my first giveaway.  It is a graceful journey through a year. Her words are beautiful, simple, and elegantly crafted. These are poems to savor with a lovely cup of tea by your side.insideoutcover

The Alphabet Not Unlike the World by Katrina Vandenberg is my second giveaway. A trip through the alphabet brings laughter and wisdom on a ride that you won’t want to end.

41AlPMbGYSL

How To Enter

If you would like to be entered in my drawing, just leave a comment below with your name and blog address so I can contact you. If you don’t have a blog, please leave me your e-mail address.

The giveaway ends April 30th, 2014 (PST). Winners will be chosen the week of May 1 with the books being mailed to you shortly thereafter. Good luck!

Here is a link to the Big Poetry Giveaway, 2014 with more detailed rules, especially if you would like to participate in giving poetry away, too!

You are also warmly welcomed to visit my Home page to read my poetry. Leave a note. I’d love to hear from you.

A Man In an Ivy Covered Boat

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NaNoWriMo came to a successful end for my husband and myself. We each accomplished writing 50,000 words of a novel which now must be re-written and edited. This was the second year for both of us. Much to my surprise it was far easier for me to meet my daily goal this year than last. I don’t know why.

This year I had much less planned going into the first day. No character sketches. No basic outline.  Just a spark of an idea from a writing prompt I used with my 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade writing club students. I am thrilled to have completed what I feel is a quite successful story arc.

But now to the part I am less familiar with. The re-write. I will let it sit until January and then return. Actually, I’m having a hard time leaving my characters alone. But they must wait and keep themselves busy without me for a while.

We are feeling a bit lost, my husband and I.  We don’t want to lose the NaNoWriMo writing momentum we built over the past month. We also don’t want to leave any room for that nasty inner editor to return. We want another project to keep us writing everyday. So we developed a challenge for ourselves.

We each chose some art work – photographs, paintings, sculpture – from the Internet. We wheedled them down to five. We will randomly choose one of those works of art to inspire our writing each week. Every day for a week we will write a poem using that one image. One poem must be a haiku and one must be rhymed and/or metered. The other five can take any form we choose. We will have a date night at the end of each week and read our poems to one another.

If you would like to join us in writing, the first week’s photo is below with a link to where it was found and the artist. The artist is Cade Martin. He is a tremendous photographer and tells a brilliant story with each piece he delivers.

I will be posting all of my poems next week in one post. Come back and see what whimsy has transpired.

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Photograph by Cade Martin.

The Butcher

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The princess slumped in a purple puff
her finest dress now wrinkled

She pouted then grinned
and told those who’d listen

“The swan will be arriving soon!”
She wished for the rabbit

the grey-brown one with fur
to greet everyone in the watery deep

mourning room but he couldn’t that day
could not move by himself

so it fell to the butcher
who was honored to play with

the princess her alligator prize
for it no longer mattered

neither swan nor brown-grey
could stay when the place was arranged

after gloves had been donned
clapping muffled the cries

the now crumpled princess
on a service of silver

was set right before their eyes
.
.
.

Author’s Note:

Some days are just like this.

Some days greet you with a snicker you would rather not pursue the reason for its presence. When that happens I know I should just get right back into bed.

Today Tweetspeak Poetry came to my rescue and gave me a reason to continue on. Even though I have laundry to do. Even though I must still write approximately 2500 words of my NaNoWriMo novel to keep ahead of this busy week. Even though it is a beautiful Sunday in Colorado and my dog, Bremen, wants a walk.  The nasty grin greeted me this morning. I was able to shake it off until noontime. Thank goodness for Tweetspeak. Their poetry theme this month is surrealism.

I have been collecting their surrealistic images all month on Pinterest at Everyday Poems, but have not had time to write.Today was the day and the princess’s story was told.

Now back to the laundry. And NaNoWriMo. And possibly, the Broncos, but maybe not.

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These are photos that I used as prompts for the poem. Click on each and it will lead you to one of the Tweetspeak or Everyday Poem sites where I discovered them.

Parallel Lines

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Photo from Every Day Poems at TweetSpeak Poetry

sometimes
it’s just the memory

the power of pain
traveling down the track

tourists and gift shops
walls and checkpoints

daughters and guns
there is light

two parallel lines
not quite parallel

a slight angle inwards
coming together

not fear and retaliation
but dialogue slightly inward

a beginning
finding the light

just a slight angle inwards
an encounter pulling away

from the memory
the power of pain

.
.
.
.

Today is Sunday. I finished my daily count of 2000 words for my current NaNoWriMo novel, The Lion Tamer.

I am enjoying the leftover good vibes from last night’s mass celebrating All Saint’s Day and Seinheim at the Church of the Holy Family.

And I’m wallowing in my daily addiction of Facebook cruising.

A photo from Tweetspeak Poetry caught my eye. It drew me back to a FB post I read a few minutes earlier.

Nadia Bolz-Weber, a local Lutheran minister, is visiting the Holy Land and I am enjoying the updates of her travels on her FB page. I admire those who are fearless and go where I would never dare and do things I don’t think I would even entertain the idea of doing.

Her piece touched me today. And when the haunting photo on Tweetspeak scrolled into my view, I knew I needed to use some of Reverend Bolz-Weber’s words to build a found poem.

So many of our problems today seem to come from riding the rails on parallel tracks and not noticing that we are going to the same place. Especially with the political season in full swing, we always seem to see the other guy as the enemy. We see those at work who don’t agree with us as the enemy. We see the car cutting us off in traffic as the enemy.

But we really are going to the same place.

We are here together on this earth as residents. All of us.

I wonder, if we would just angle ourselves in, just a touch, so those parallel lines come together, as those who founded the Palestinian Israeli Bereaved Families for Peace that the Reverend encountered in her travels, maybe peace could be a real possibility. Maybe we could see through the eyes of those struggling what it is really like, what the situation really is.

Maybe we would find the light to light our way.

Maybe. Just maybe.