Genesis

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Day Nineteen

 

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It’s odd
and
I don’t know for certain
yet,
deep inside
there is a kernel of recollection
of my beginning

a breath, a gentle
wisp, and I
came into being,
no more important
than rock or star,
dandelion or dewdrop

and

I wonder
if I catch how true
rock and star and dewdrop
tender their design

while

I dissolve
my gossamer filaments tied
to the quickening exhalation of genesis

 

 

Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaNoWriMo/NaPoWriMo:

“And now for our daily prompt (optional, as always!). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a creation myth. It doesn’t have to be an existing creation myth, or even recount how all of creation came to be. It could be, for example, your own take on the creation of ball-point pens, or the discovery of knitting. Your myth can be as big or small as you would like, as serious or silly as you make it.”

 

Milk Glass

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Day Eighteen

 

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Little you, that piece
of you, first bud
on lilac’s branch,
will bloom forth
without burden.

Little you, that
sadness you hold,
a milk glass trifle
of memory past,
will fade.

Little you, those
tears, rainlets to wash
away abandoned hope,
sun faithfully dawns.

Little you, you are
as vital as the least
imperceptible cell
and the most
eloquent planet.

Little you, rejoice
in you, for you are
perfect, simply
by your creation.

And that is all
that matters.

 

Author’s Note:

Not following the prompt today, but borrowing a word. Thank you, Vandana Bhasin.

Nocturne

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Day 17

 

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Draw near to me
under nocturne sky
one hand on hip
the other in mine
And we’ll dance
until dawn appears
to release our
engagement
into Aurora’s
sphere

 

 

Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, I challenge you to write a nocturne. In music, a nocturne is a composition meant to be played at night, usually for piano, and with a tender and melancholy sort of sound. Your nocturne should aim to translate this sensibility into poetic form! Need more inspiration? Why not listen to one of history’s most famous nocturnes, Chopin’s Op. 9 No. 2?”

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Secret Garden Nocturne

Where Shall We Meet?

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Day Sixteen

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I’ll meet you
on the hill
near Mother Tree
just before dawn.

And what day is this
we shall meet?

A day like any other
when sun rises
above cattails
and stream.

Well, what month
do we meet?

This one or that,
anyone that suits you,
simply the one that
brings you to me.

What shall I ferry?

A candle to light your
way until sun throws
her wisdom
along our path.

And herbs to scent
the air, and a book
of holy words to fill
our bellies.

What else?

A bowl for water
to wash away
dust of the past,
to hold precious blessings
for the present, and
discern a crystal view into
future’s quest.

Is there but one more
thing I should bear?

Your heart,
only that vessel
empty and open,
ready to be filled
with awe and wonder,
joy and reverence,
for this moment,
our union,
we will never
chance upon again.

Author’s Note:

Prompt for Day 16: NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Today I challenge you to take your inspiration, like our featured interviewee did in the chapbook she co-authored with Ross Gay, from the act of letter-writing. Your poem can be in the form of a letter to a person, place, or thing, or in the form of a back-and-forth correspondence.”

 

Transformation

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Day Fifteen

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Besieged by blazing light
as one door closes,

there is an in-between
obscurity, a light blindness.

A consuming fear. Another
debilitating call to surrender.

It is in this constancy, in trust,
I accede my acclimation.

Author’s Note:

Missed a couple of prompts this week….life

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“Last, but not least, here’s our prompt for the day (optional, as always!). Because we’re halfway through NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that reflects on the nature of being in the middle of something. The poem could be about being on a journey and stopping for a break, or the gap between something half-done and all-done. Half a loaf is supposedly better than none, but what’s the difference between half of a very large loaf and all of a very small one? Let your mind wander into the middle distance, betwixt the beginning of things and the end. Hopefully, you will find some poetry there!”

 

Privy

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Day Eleven

 

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Can I do nothing to curb where greed and malice
procreate, spawn and devour?
I watch as heresy scrolls across the dumbed screen.
In silence of the room I sit
wondering if morning birds would
sing if they were privy to our madness.

 

 

Author’s note:

Not using the NaPoWriMo prompt today…

My heart is heavy. I am a first grade teacher in Aurora, CO.
San Bernardino
Syria
Trump
Orlando
Newtown
Aurora
Littleton
Platte Canyon
Columbine…I need to stop…

Sensibility

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Day Ten

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I knew you
before full moon
ascended above Mother Tree
to whisper your name.

I knew you
as sun wrapped
herself in scarves of
tangerine and turquoise.

And I will know you
in star bright heat
until they dissolve,
spent of every bit
of sensibility
in jubilance over you.

 

Author’s Note:

Prompt for Day 10 from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that is a portrait of someone important to you. It doesn’t need to focus so much on what a person looks (or looked) like, as what they are or were. If you need inspiration, here’s one of my favorite portrait poems.”

 

9 Lines Disparate

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Day Nine

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1.
Overwintered cattails lie down
under spring rain’s cloak.

2.
Ten boxes, three bags, trappings released,
that which no longer serve.

3.
I yearn for open space where
the only music I hear is of bird and beast.

4.
My knee swells and pounds
as I walk with dog, twice daily, regardless.

5.
How many pieces of cloth needed
to cover my nakedness, not highlight my ego?

6.
One red tulip awakens.

7.
There is food in the fridge,
what other is there to feed me?

8.
Why do I need to know the why,
may I reside in knowing it is so.

9.
Not so disparate, really, liberate the old,
not acquire new, just leave pause to grow.

Author’s Note:

Prompt for day nine of NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“Finally, here is our prompt (optional, as always). Because today is the ninth day of NaPoWriMo, I’d like to challenge you to write a nine-line poem. Although the fourteen-line sonnet is often considered the “baseline” form of verse in English, Sir Edmund Spenser wrote The Faerie Queene using a nine-line form of his own devising, and poetry in other languages (French, most particularly) has always taken advantage of nine-line forms. You can find information of various ways of organizing rhyme schemes, meters, etcetera for nine-line works here. And of course, you can always eschew such conventions entirely, and opt to be a free-verse nine-line poet.”

Weekend Slumber

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Day Eight

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…and I slept
as sun warmed
jeweled buds into bloom,
sweet essence
promising fruition

…and I slept
after fox medicine
crossed our path,
lean long legs dipped in black,
tail pointed in white,
snout headed east
up wooden fence,
six feet a simple hop,
a tightrope balance
across wooden planks
then gone

…and I slept
under waxing gibbous
moon soon to ripen full
with dog and groom
still, embraced in
night’s slumber

…and I slept

 

Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“And now for our (optional) prompt. Today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that relies on repetition. It can be repetition of a phrase, or just a word. Need a couple of examples? Try “The Bells” by Edgar Allan Poe, or Joy Harjo’s “She Had Some Horses”. Poe’s poem creates a relentless, clanging effect through the repetition of the word “bells,” while Harjo’s repeated use of the phrase “she had some horses” and variations thereof gives her poem poem its incantatory effect, while also deepening its central philosophical conceit of what things are the same and what things are different.”