NaPoWriMo Bonus: 5 Haikus

Small Poem

I'd teach you how to
write a personal poem
if I knew myself.

Snail

Anticipating
a light touch, your head trembles
back inside your shell.

Seeds

Every time I puff
a dandelion's white head
I forget to wish.

Writing Poems

Writing poems eases
anxiety.  Tomorrow
suffering returns.

Last Year's Blossoms

Already the charms
of last year's cherry blossoms 
have been forgotten.

--April 4, 2013
These are poems I wrote earlier this month that I never got to post.

Reflections on NaPoWriMo '13

It's hard to know how I feel about the end of NaPoWriMo, because I'm still not entirely sure why I decided to commit to it.  It was sort of a lark.  My aunt was doing it, and so I thought, why not me too?  But I've never felt like I truly had the soul of a poet.  To be honest, I still don't.  There's a certain sensetivity of words and beauty, a certain deep cutting truth that I don't think I possess.   Mostly, though, I'm not infatuated with poetry.  My first love is stories.

That said, even if I don't feel like a "poet," I do have a little more faith in my ability to write poetry.  In truth, I'm only a little surprised I made it through the month, but I'm astonished that most of my poems had enough internal integrity not to collapse on themselves like an under-baked souffle.   Now at the month's end, I have thirty little poems, like crisp new calling cards.  That's something, right?

NaPoWriMo #30: Storm

The storm leaves
on giant bat wings.

It flies blind
over mountain and farm
with thunderous flaps
and suddenly stops.

--April 30, 2013

Prompt: Choose a poem and re-write it by putting in as many opposite words as you can.  

Original:

Fog

by Carl Sandburg

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on

NaPoWriMo #29: Four Seasons with Japanese

Spring

Para-para, para-para
Raindrops sprinkle pink sakura
Petals overflow the gutter

Summer

Kira-kira, kira-kira
Sun hits lake and shines like glitter
On stones matsu needles gather

Fall

Para-para, para-para
Crimson leaves blow hither-thither
From momiji, shadows scatter

Winter

Chira-chira, chira-chira
Snowflakes hit the ground and wither
Ume's budding, I wait eager

--April 29, 2013
Prompt: Write a poem incorporating at least 5 words in a different language.  (I, of course, picked Japanese.)

Japanese Glossary
Para-para: The sound of a light rain or of leaves dropping
Sakura: Cherry
Kira-kira: Light shining off a reflective surface
Matsu: Pine
Momiji: Maple
Chira-chira: The sound of snow lightly falling
Ume: Plum

NaPoWriMo # 28: Rosemary Bread, Lavender Tea

Rosemary bread, Lavender tea
Juniper soup, Lemon candy.
The vittles of witches, oh what a treat.
But they are not good for a mortal to eat.

Rosemary bread, Rosemary bread
Baked by the good witch of Scarpetta Breeze.
Just one big bite will make your head light.
Your cheeks will swell up as though stung by mad bees.

Lavender tea, Lavender tea
Brewed by the good witch of Viola Cay.
One mild sip will make your nose drip
You'll walk in a daze in the moonlight of May.

Juniper Soup, Juniper Soup
Stewed by the good witch of Forrester's Thorn.
One smacking slurp will cause you to burp.
Your belly will roil like waves in a storm.

Lemon Candy, Lemon Candy
Made by the good witch of Sunny Day's Cough
One little suck will make your heart buck
You'll run so fast both your legs will fall off.

Rosemary bread, Lavender tea
Juniper soup, Lemon candy.
The vittles of witches, oh what a treat.
But they are not good for a mortal to eat.

--April 28, 2013

Prompt: A poem based on color.

NaPoWriMo #27: Writing Excuses

The faeries hid my pens away
And so I cannot write today.

Pixies all my pencils stole,
Hoarded them like they were gold.

And if, by chance, I found a spare
It'd do me little good I fear.

The only sharpener I own
Was smashed by dwarves upon a stone.

Should I then my finger cut
And write this poem in my own blood?

But it were useless, too, I think.
My notebook's eaten by a Sphinx,

Who left me but the metal wire.
And all the elf-lads did conspire

To tear my loose leaf, one by one,
Until their wretched work was done.

And while I flapped around the room
To save my paper from its doom,

The shine of my computer screen
Attracted the hobgoblins' greed.

They took it, plus my best keyboard.
They dragged my mouse out by its cord.

Harpies in my printer nest.
A dragon has burned down my desk.

I wish to leave but can't go far.
A giant skateboards on my car.

Burdened with these pests and blights
How can a poet hope to write?

Brownies stomp upon my head.
I think I'll read a book instead.

--April 27, 2013
Prompt: Pick a common saying and search the Internet for ideas.  (I didn't like this prompt, so I didn't write it.)

NaPoWriMo #26: In a Churchyard

the knell of parting day

slowly

plods

to darkness

Now fades        

solemn stillness

where droning

drowsy tinklings lull

Beneath       

a mouldering heap

for ever laid

The rude sleep

For them no more    

her evening

return

the envied kiss 

mock their

homely destiny          

with a smile

the poor

boast of 

beauty

Awaits

the grave

    

the fleeting breath

the silent dust

Death

Perhaps 

Some heart   

might have 

waked

to 

the spoils of time

And froze

    

The applause of  

ruin

o'er smiling

eyes

Their lot forbade

their crimes confined

wade through slaughter 

And shut the gates of mercy

The struggling pangs       

the blushes of shame

heap

the flame

    

the madding strife

wishes  

the cool sequestered vale of

noiseless tenor

    

these bones

still erected

Implores         

the unlettered muse

and

many a holy text

to die

 

the parting soul

pious drops the closing eye

Ev'n from the tomb 

Ev'n in our ashes 

mindful of the unhonoured dead

their artless tale

by lonely

kindred spirit

       

the peep of dawn

the dews

meet the sun 

at the foot of yonder nodding beech  

--April 26, 2013

Prompt: An eraser poem.  (Pick a famous poems and erase words or even whole stanzas from it, until it becomes your own.)  Taken from Thomas Gray's "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard"

NaPoWriMo #25: Hair-of-Gold

A tale of woe I've yet to tell
To you, oh reader fair,
Of a child brought to doom.
The tragedy's her hair.

Golden curls sprang from her head--
Real gold!--fine, smooth, and pure.
A couple clippings from her scalp
Could any thing procure.

Good fortune, yes, it seems to be.
Ah, but luck's a curse.
To a such a girl as Hair-of-Gold
Wealth never has done worse.

Though given all she'd ever want
She never could be pleased.
She threw out meat a tad too tough
As if it were diseased.

She wouldn't eat a blackened pie
Or drink water less than cold.
Perfection only she required.
When she was eight years old,

Tales reached her ears of Faerie Realm
Where everything was good.
This place of magic, it was said,
Lay in the Darkened Wood.

Her neighbors told her it was bad
And begged her not to stray.
But Curls-of-Gold was sick of them
And so she would not stay.

She thought she'd rule the Faerie Realm.
She thought she'd be their queen.
And so she left! By human eyes
She never more was seen.

For she got lost.  The forest dimmed.
Her belly growled.  She floundered.
She'd only missed a single meal,
But quickly hunger found her.

Now, the end of Locks-of-Gold
I tell you with despair.
While wishing for some porridge,
She got eaten by a bear.

--April 8, 2013

Prompt: a Ballard.  (I wrote this early this month, and it works.  Plus, you don't go assigning ballards on a Thursday.  You just don't.)

NaPoWriMo #24: Rebecca

rebecca
reBEccA
ACcEber

rebecca lang
ReBEcca LANg
re ANG bE Lcca
LANg acCebEr
lANG accebER
CA be RE
REBEcca Lang

rebecca dawn lang
reBeccA Dawn GAnL
rebecCA Dawn
Ca lANg CEbeR

rebecca dawn isako lang
dawN isakO
dawN isakO ACcEber
dawN isakO re ANG bE Lcca
dawN isakO REBEcca Lang
dawN isakO Ca lANg CEbeR
gNal Okasi Nawd accEber
Isako rebecCa dAwN
reBEcca

Rebecca

--April 24, 2013
Prompt: Use only the letters in your name to write an autobiographical poem.  (Thank goodness I have four names.)

NaPoWriMo #23: Grey Clouds

Today I want to be alone.
Grey clouds hang on the brow of May.
An old dog gnaws upon its bone.
Today I want to be alone.
And ponder feelings of my own.
I wish the birds would go away.
Today I want to be alone.
Grey clouds hang on the brow of May.

--April 23, 2013

Prompt: A triolet: an eight-lined poem in iambic tretamenter (eight syllables). The first, fourth, and seventh line are identical.  The second and last line are identical.  The rhyme scheme should go ABaAabAB.

NaPoWriMo #22: Vegetable Garden

Spring's green tendrils bring to mind
Veggies from another time
Once in orange clay pots grown
A supermarket for my home:
Cherry tomatoes on the vine
Spitting juice, all warm and fine;
Basil with its fragrance sweet;
Purple eggplant full of meat;
Small zucchini's yellow flowers
Grow up soon, I count the hours.
Alas for me, these plants are gone.
Empty pots stand all alone.
All that care has gone to waste.
My garden I no longer taste.

--April 22, 2013

Prompt: In honor of earth Day, write about nature.

NaPoWriMo #21: Fairy Tale Fortune Cookies

You will be declared fairest of them all.  Don't get too attached.

Queen and Princess alike will beg you for a favor.  Decline them.

Taking in a snow-white maid will incur considerable trouble.  Reconsider.

For the love of God, DON'T take presents from strangers!

Like this cookie, glass coffins hold wonderful surprises.

You will be forgotten, grow dusty, and shatter.  Sorry, brother.  Fortune was not on your side.

--April 21, 2013
Prompt: Re-write Frank O'Hara's "Lines from a Fortune Cookie."

NaPoWriMo #20: Owl and Mermaid

Owl passing o'er waves
Spied Mermaid laying in a cove.
Fins glistened like wet seaweed,
Hair as sweet and black as clove.

Owl fell in love with Mermaid.
When she swam for open sea,
Owl followed on the salt breeze,
Screeching love so earnestly.

Mermaid dove under the dark waves.
Owl circled from above.
Though he could not enter her world,
Still he crooned his songs of love.

Wings gave way, and Owl dropped.
Mermaid's head broke the surface.
As he fell, her arms reached out.
She cradled Owl to her chest.

Though parted by the sky and sea,
They kept a love that could not be.

Always Owl stayed near Mermaid,
Flew the ocean, hunted fish.
Mermaid caught him when he wearied.
Both together were at peace.

Until one day a gale seized Owl,
Blew him far from Mermaid's side.
Feathers torn, he cried for Mermaid,
Sinking into salt-filled tide.

Mermaid wept and searched for Owl
All throughout the ocean grim.
Then one night the ghost of Owl
Came to Mermaid in her dream.

He spoke to her of the dark water
Where his broken body lay.
Mermaid swam but could not find it.
Fish had gnawed his bones away.

In the sand lay one black feather.
Mermaid wore it in her hair.
Worlds united, Owl's spirit
Followed Mermaid everywhere.

Though parted now by death and life,
They kept their love against all strife.

--April 20, 2013
Prompt: Choose 5 words from a list and write a poem with them.  I chose: Owl, Clove, Seaweed, Salt, and Ghost

NaPoWriMo #19: Seeking Juliet

Seeking Juliet.
Beauty bloomed of thirteen years.
Must love knives, poison.

--April 19, 2013

Prompt: a personal ad.

NaPoWriMo #18: Bad Days Come

Bad
days come
like flies, one
following another.  A swarm
of small annoyances, constantly buzzing
headaches.  Bad days come
and I want
sleep so
Bad.

--April 18, 2013

Prompt: Begin and end with the same word.

NaPoWriMo #17: Good Morning, Chloe!

Good morning! Yes, it seems to be,
When joyfully greeted by a puppy,
Who leaps like a carp on top of my lap
And, ignoring the keyboard's tap, tap, tap,
She licks my fingers, one by one,
muffing my efforts to write this poem.
So I pet her ears and she snuggles in deep,
and just when I think she's fallen asleep,
Up! She springs lightly and bids me to play,
though I've barely yawned last night's sleep away.
Good morning!  Yes, it seems to be:
Laughing while chasing a peppy puppy.

--April 17, 2013
Prompt: a poem of greeting.

NaPoWriMo #16: Dragon (Fake Translation Poem)

Dragon

Rumors stolen from a sleeping poet.
The sky passes slowly.

She lies in patient slumber.
She dreams of drowned rowans.

Literary ambitions grow wild.
The worm chews at deft delicacy.

Precision turns shaky.
Haikus cannot be helmed.

Problems arise
And so does the dragon.

Heart's truth
Whored by opium.

Worm's Victory. Originality's Widow.
Pyres made of coffee.

--April 16, 2013
Prompt: Find a poem in a language you don't know and write a fake translation of it.

Actual Poem

DRZAZGA
Ewa Lipska

Lubię panią pisze do mnie dwudziestoletni poeta.
Początkujący cieśla słów.

Jego list pachnie tarcicą.
Jego muza drzemie jeszcze w różanym drewnie.

W literackim tartaku ambitny hałas.
Czeladnicy okładają łatwowierny język fornirem.

Przycinają nieśmiałe sklejki zdań.
Wystrugane heblem haiku.

Problemy zaczynają się
z wbitą w pamięć drzazgą.

Trudno ją wyjąć
jeszcze trudniej opisać.

Lecą wióry. Ogryzki aniołów.
Pył do samego nieba.

Splinter

Ewa Lipska

I like you, a twenty-year-old poet writes to me.
A beginning carpenter of words.

His letter smells of lumber.
His muse still sleeps in rosewood.

Ambitious noise in a literary sawmill.
Apprentices veneering a gullible tongue.

They cut to size the shy plywood of sentences.
A haiku whittled with a plane.

Problems begin
with a splinter lodged in memory.

It is hard to remove
much harder to describe.

Wood shavings fly. The apple cores of angels.
Dust up to the heavens.

NaPoWriMo #15: Still Lovely is the Dying Rose

Still lovely is the dying rose.
Old petals grow a deeper red.
Grandma, face stilled by sleep's repose,
Lies cat-like curled upon her bed.

--April 15, 2013

Prompt: A Pantun, a Malay poem with four lines, abab rhyme scheme, and 8-12 syllables per rhyme.  The first two lines and the second two lines should not have a logical, straight-forward connection.

NaPoWriMo #14: The Stepmother's Tale

Why should I grant an interview
To one who chides me on my sin
And revels in my current squalor
As you heap judgement on my kin?

For my abuse of Princess Ella,
Call me wicked.  I'll forgive.
But if you dare to call my daughters
That unsightly adjective

I will fly into a rage
And box your ears full with my broom.
Cinders fall upon your face
As I eject you from my home.

But speak to me as once I was:
a noble woman filled with pride
Who loved a captain foreigner
And sailed the ocean by his side.

Two lovely daughters I bore him
And no one called them hideous.
In far lands their dark complexions
Were considered quite beauteous.

Alas, for them, my husband died.
Bereaved, I married his first mate.
The fortunes my love willed to me
Twice doubled his modest estate.

And yet upon our wedding night
His true nature was shown.
He made my daughters servants
In their very own home.

When they cleaned the fireplace,
He said, "Does it not suit them
For who can see the ashes
Smeared upon their swarthy skin?"

Three years they toiled, 'til his death.
I watched helpless all the while.
My daughters bore his mocking
and forgot how to smile.

After his death, the chimney
Still needed to be swept.
Time had come for justice.
Rose-white Ella paid the debt.

Innocent of wrong, perhaps,
But she could not disguise,
The lightness of her figure
Nor the laughter in her eyes.

Three girls suffered the same fate,
Only one wins the reward.
The plain ones live as paupers
While the beauty gets the lord.

I won't send my apologies
To her or any other.
To my own daughters I regret
They had so poor a mother.

--April 14, 2013
Prompt: Persona poem.  (Write from the point of view of a larger-than-life character.)

NaPoWriMo #13: Walking the Dog in 5 Haikus

Lupine from Father's
garden.  Yellow blossoms rise
like bricks of butter.

Saturday sprinklers.
Pitbull canters through wet grass.
Paw prints seem so small

Pebbles cannot form
a garden.  It may be art,
but gardens must live.

Dandelion stems
rule the yard.  It makes me think
of sad-eyed children.

A thirsty puppy
gulps down water. Bi-bi-bi birds
sing in my back yard.

--April 13, 2013

Prompt: Take a walk and write your observations into a poem.