NaPoWriMo #19

Another full moon
poses above us.
Gently, she lights the way
as we creep, or dance, or stumble
through another night.
And perhaps we pause
to admire her for a minute or two.

And when we go in
she beckons us
through the bedroom window:
Come out and play,
come out and live.
Do not sleep your life away
silly mortals!
You have such a short time…

What she doesn’t know
is that we are in love
with sleep
with dream
with death

 

Well, this didn’t go as planned. (Maybe because I didn’t really have a plan?) I feel like I should spend a lot more time with this one, and that the end result will be quite different. Maybe even a couple of pieces that are quite different. But for now… the day job beckons.

 

NaPoWriMo – 4-18-19

Like a blind dog
searching for water
we use our other,
inadequate senses
as best we can.

Can we sniff out love,
or salvation
in this dark, mortal chamber?

Ok, this needs work, like the “can./ Can”, so close together in lines 5 and 6, but right now I can’t take the time to fiddle with it.  Another one to come back to.

NaPoWriMo #17

These days I hedge my bets.
Once I hurtled, headlong
but now I measure my responses,
pause before striking,
do my research.
I always keep an umbrella in my car

I enter each meeting,
each transaction
prepared;
with my due diligence done

But some days
I miss the feel
of the rain on my face

NaPoWriMo #16

So yesterday the Notre Dame cathedral caught fire and much of it was destroyed. The world is diminished by it. It has repercussions in the religious, cultural and personal spheres. I was shocked and dismayed, so of course I completely avoided it in my writing. Stuff like this needs processing time, for me. Instead I took off on a tangent from a funny (I thought) cartoon about why there are no crocodiles in orchestras and that got me thinking. I loved the sound of, “an alligator orchestra” just the sound of it. And I started thinking about different instruments alligators might be able to use (if there was nothing but their big snouts and short arms limiting them). And then I started thinking, in a ridiculous way, of things different animals would be very good at, rather than bad at. And what follows is the start of the absurd little list.

The Octopus Bakery
has the best bread in town
they knead three loaves at a time
with an extra tentacle
to spread flour
or give an extra pat
or reach for a loaf pan
or run the cash register

The Aardvark Exterminator Co.
is the best in town
someone is on call
twenty-four hours a day
and they use no harsh chemicals
results guaranteed
or they will come back
no extra charge

Dung Beetle Septic, LLC
is the best ever
their motto:
Your shit
is our bread and butter
That is truth in advertising!

NaPoWriMo #15

My grandma’s hands
were a map
of her life
a topographical map,
with mountainous knuckles
swollen by hard work
and arthritis
pale, blue rivers
of veins
winding their way
around the metacarpals
to the fingers
fingers cracked and thickened
with a lifetime
of field work and cooking
of sewing and mending
of caring and healing

I’m not pleased with this yet. I have all the verbs in the last three lines end with -ing, except field work, and I don’t like that. However, I don’t want to use gardening, because that sounds too easy and casual for what she did. And I don’t want to use farming, because that makes me think of something broader. She worked all day in the gardens growing organic flowers and produce for the farmers’ market. She also raised organic chickens to sell at the marked too (meat and eggs), so maybe farming… just not sure. Also, the other pairs of verbs at the end are more closely related than the first two, field work and. cooking. Also, though she’s dead many years now, I think I’d rather say her hands ARE a map of her life in line two. Ah well, something to work on in May.