Tea

Tea
For me
You See

Coffee
That's frothy
And tastes of toffee

No for me
It must be
Tea

The Slug - NaPoWriMo Day 11

The slug

There is something out there

Deep in the garden

It eats my plants

Destroys my lettuce

The Coriander a goner

Silver trails the only clue

What can be done?

I know not

What it is or

Where it hides

looked under rocks

Searched in the grass

Then I found it

Snuggled in the damp

Mud below a log

What can be done?

Poisoned pellets, too dangerous

Might get the dog

Traps safe. Maybe

But a waste of beer

Copper tape on pots

Or Live and let live

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Bop. The invention of poet Afaa Michael Weaver, the Bop is a kind of combination sonnet + song. Like a Shakespearean sonnet, it introduces, discusses, and then solves (or fails to solve) a problem. Like a song, it relies on refrains and repetition. In the basic Bop poem, a six-line stanza introduces the problem, and is followed by a one-line refrain. The next, eight-line stanza discusses and develops the problem, and is again followed by the one-line refrain. Then, another six-line stanza resolves or concludes the problem, and is again followed by the refrain.

He - NaPoWriMo Day 10

He

Well what can I say

He’s clever and smart

He struggles at times

He’s a chap

A gentleman indeed

Doffs his hat

Opens doors

Gives up seats

And much more

He likes lego

And books

Often called a geek

Or a nerd

Sometimes worse

But he doesn’t care

He’s bigger than that

Rises above their words

He is my son

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

Nine Lives - NaPoWriMo Day 9

Nine Lives

Nine lives they say

A cat may seem

To have many more

They fall from trees

Run in front of cars

Fight on fences

Curiosity kills

Yet live on they do

For another day

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

All on the Summer's Day - NaPoWriMo Day 8

All on the Summer’s day

They walked under the sun

The bright sun beat down

All on the summer's day

They climbed the hill

No clouds in the sky

All on the summer's day

Their Legs ached

And Lungs bursting

All on the summer's day

Coats off, jumpers off

Suncream and hats on

All on the summer's day

Fun and laughter

Picnics and games

All on the summer's day

At the top, the wind blows

The sun's gone

All on the summer's day

The rains come

Coats back on

All on the summer's day

Clouds dropped

Visibility gone

All on the summer's day

Lost, confused

Cold and wet

All on the summer's day

No fun now, it’s gone

Just fear and danger

All on the summer's day

----------------------------------------------------------------------

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.

Lost - NaPoWriMo Day 7

Lost

Where is it

Where can it be

I’ve searched

And I've looked

But it's nowhere

You see.

I’ve lost it

I have

Can find it

No more

I’ve looked

In and out

Above and below

It’s gone

Vanished

Disappeared

I’ve lost it

I have

Can find it

No more

My keys

They were

Here

Just there

In my bag

Now where

I’ve lost it

I have

Can find it

No more

Cat came in

With a mouse

In her mouth

Let it go

It ran

Loose in the house

I’ve lost it

I have

Can find it

No more

Followed it quickly

Under the sofa

Midst the fluff

And tissues

My keys

Mouse forgotten

I’ve lost it

I have

Can find it

No more

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The seventh day of NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo, Elizabeth and I challenge you to write a poem about luck and fortuitousness. For inspiration, take a look at Charles Simic’s “The Betrothal” and Stephen Dunn’s “The Arm”. Need something more? Perhaps these instructions from Elizabeth will get you going!

Create the following lists:

1. List 1 – 3 random objects. (Smaller tends to be better.)

2. List 1 – 3 random but specific locations. (Think in the cookie jar, or under my seat…)

3. List 1 – 2 objects you’ve lost and a few notes on their back-story.

4. List 1- 2 objects you’ve found and few notes on their back-story.

Now, choosing an object from List 1, a location from List 2, and connect them in a poem with ideas from Lists 3 & 4 and Voilà! A fortuitous poem! As an example of a finished “fortuitous” poem, here is Elizabeth’s own “State of Grace”.

My Cat - NaPoWriMo Day 6

My Cat

Sleek black, killer

Stealth, unseen

Cute, cuddly

Snuggled by fire

Teeth gleaming

Claws sharp

Chasing reflections

Bugs and more

Independent and brave

Till bath time

Jumps at cucumbers

Won’t cross salt circles

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Write a poem that looks at the same thing from various points of view. The most famous poem of this type is probably Wallace Stevens’ “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”. You don’t need to have thirteen ways of looking at something – just a few will do!

Dawn

Dawn

Black so Black

It's as dark as coal

Diamonds scattered

Like shiny dandruff

Then grey

Lightening constantly

To blue with

Silver slug trails

A blue

So pure

So light

Almost white

Blue gives way to

A peachy glow

Oranges and pinks

Breakthrough

A mass of colour

Catching clouds

Reflections low

Gold peaks through

Then gone

Show over

No applause

No reviews

Houses stir

People wake

Lights off

Cars move

New day

Once Mo

Escape

Escape!

Prompt - Describe your ultimate escape plan (and tell us what you’re escaping from).

Well you have to be ready, don’t you? I mean you never know, you see things on the news all the time. So I have a plan, it’s all in my notebook, yes this one. I could get it published, there’s a growing trend for survival and prepping books, but then everyone would know my plans.
I have a bug out bag packed as well, all the essentials, the stuff that will get me to my shelter. Oh yes, I have a safe haven, deep in a hillside, I can’t tell you where obviously but it has everything I’ll need, and no one will find it. It’s an old nuclear bunker, and outpost originally built for 3 Royal Observer Corps volunteers to report back in the event of the bomb being dropped. Of course, the cold war was just that Cold and no bombs were ever dropped, so the ROC was decommissioned the bunkers shut and sold, most of the small ones destroyed, but this one survived. It’s basic but has what I need.
I have food enough for six months, ways of cleaning water, as well as a couple of months of water. Clean clothes, equipment and medical supplies. All under lock and key and hidden away. Even got plans for farming growing my food, seeds stored, and compost too.

I suppose you are wondering how I plan to get there, I know some have cars ready, but I figured the roads would be chocker, so I’m going to walk, after all, I know what I’m doing with a map. GPS and Sat Nav will be no use; they are not great at the best of times, are they.

So I’ve got it all planned, grab the bag, ideally at night and walk out, I’ve practised the route, so know it well. Can get to the bunker on foot in 12 hours. Then into the shelter and safety, I’ve got a vehicle and fuel of course, but it's up near the bunker, and it's well hidden.

But now when I need it most I can’t get there, can’t even reach my notepad because I’m here tied up in this basement. Alone in the damp and dark. I’ve no idea how long I’ve been here, or why he wants me. Not sure I want to know, all I do know is that you can plan, you can prepare, but then life throws a curveball.

I was sat at a bus stop on my way home from the library, always been warned about wearing headphones, didn’t hear him. Next thing I knew I was here, alone, my head hurting. My clothes gone, dressed in this gown. I can see my bag, its contents and my notepad on a table under a dim light, the only light.
I must work out how to escape; I’ve never planned for this, I don't know what to do.

An Adult Fairy Tale

Come sit down; I’ll tell you a tale,

A tale of adventure, a tale of suspense.

A tale so scary, it will make you go pale.

My name is Miranda, and I am a prince.

Okay no, I’m not a Prince, but I was trying to rhyme. Oh well here goes I’ll stop with the rhythm and get on with my story.

So I’m not a Prince or even a Princess, not in real life, just in my head.
I got up late around midday, as I normally do after a night at work. I poured myself a bowl of choco-pops, I know a moment on the lips a lifetime on the hips, but I need the sugar to get me going that and my large mug of coffee, I need my coffee.

After breakfast I dash into town, new lipstick, mascara, oh I love that skirt, yes it's short, but it’s perfect for work.
Laden with bags I struggle back to my flat, just two hours till work. I run a bath,  pouring in my favourite bubble bath, I watch as the bubble rise, it takes me back to a life before, an innocent lost.

I sink into the hot water closing my eyes; I’m away with the fairies, a princess in distress, along comes my knight, killing dragons and ogres, before taking my hand and leading me off to the sunset.
Bring, Bring……. Bloody phone, brings me back to reality, I jump out of the bath, grabbing a towel, I fumble with the door handle, I reach the phone just as it stops. An unknown number, another customer lost.
Back to the bathroom, dry myself off. Now sat in the kitchen time for my fix, not alcohol or drugs, just more coffee.
I flip through my notepad, three more to go, shouldn’t take long, then I can go free, the first two were hard, then it got easier almost routine.
I take a deep breath, they made me what I am, and it's’ time to repay.
Into the bedroom, I pull on my clothes, like a shield it protects me.
I pin up my hair, put on my makeup, my war paint.
Locking my flat, I drop my keys in my bag. Jump into a taxi, and I’m on the road again.
I sit at the bar, sipping my drink, that’s when I spot him, older than I remember but that’s him.
I jump up, run to him embrace him choking on the bile as it rises with disgust, he smells the same. “Mr Rogers” I squeal in delight “Robert, you do remember me?” I glance at his wife, horror on her face, she knew. His colleagues looked confused, just what I wanted. I haven’t got long, I reach into my pocket and thrust the envelopes into the hands, before dashing off.
From the safety of the reception, I watch as they open and look in horror at the photos, the pictures of Mr Roger’s and I when I was a child, a child of just 10. They read my handwritten note. ‘The monsters that made me destroyed me. It’s time to repay.'

Paradise - NaPoWriMo Day 5

Paradise

Grass so lush

Soft underfoot

Tree’s full of blossom

Daffodils bow under

The weight of their blooms

Hyacinth peek between

Tufts of new growth

Buds emerging

Plants waking up

Pinks, Reds, Purples

And more

So many colours

So many shades

Light flickers

From mirrors

And water

A flash of wings

The tweet of song

The tinkle of water

Gentle swoosh

Wind through leaves

Petals fall

Like confetti

A cat meows

A dog barks

Splash

a frog maybe

There's nowhere

I’d rather be

Than my paradise

My Garden

On a sunny day

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In honor of Mary Oliver’s work, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that is based in the natural world: it could be about a particular plant, animal, or a particular landscape. But it should be about a slice of the natural world that you have personally experienced and optimally, one that you have experienced often. Try to incorporate specific details while also stating why you find the chosen place or plant/animal meaningful.