Day 12 of Napowrimo

This was almost too hard to even write. The prompt for day twelve is to write a letter that you could never say out loud. I wrote it down.
I can't share it yet. Maybe not ever.

Day Eleven- Tanka

Light wind from the fan,
cools the furrowed, sweat brow
and the sweaty bodies...
Fuck! The kids should be asleep!
No, we can't finish later.

Days 9 and 10 of Napowrimo

Day 9 had a prompt to write a poem in the noir style. All I could think of was the Steve Martin movie and now I can't think of anything else. Well, that and Who Framed Roger Rabbit?
Alas, I do not have enough noir to draw from so I've skipped day 9.

Day 10.
An Un-Love poem.
Not to be confused with a poem of hate.


These dishes
you've created for us are
delicious.
These dishes
you've piled in the sink are
vicious.
These dishes
fill me with thoughts
malicious.
Learn to
wash as you go or
sleep with the fishes.

Ottava Rima

I've tried my best to create a poem that has eight lines written in iambic pentameter. Then I gave up.
The rhyme scheme is a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c. That was much easier to accomplish.

Clicking, clacking- metal connects with ground
8 counts to learn, the rhythm does repeat
Scraping, digging- heels and toes make sound
1 moment is needed to find the beat
Stepping, stomping- Broadway bound
2 tap shoes worn on talented feet
Dancing, moving- a love for the stage
3 shows a year until death of old age

Day Seven

It's the time machine -past, present, future
It's the enemy -silent monolith
It's the most precious -questions and answers
It's the emotional pull -sorrow and elation
It's beckoning, waiting -liquid crystal display
It's time for my show-
WHERE IS THE REMOTE?

Day 6- A Valediction

This is the mountain I've created, all at once unfathomable and minute
The myriad display of colors, textures, all familiar in separation by together the whole represents an impossible task- to choose.
defining myself by deciding-
What of this mess? How will I pare down? (Pare! Ha, I make myself laugh)
this chaotic jumble before me-
so many varied sides of myself and yet too many carry reminders. too many are dirty, worn, torn, useless.
The more I study, the more I see what has to go. What I finally have to buckle down and do (buckle!)
It's you, I say to myself.
"It's you."
I say it out loud, pointedly staring at the glaring errors of my life. I'm ready.
Willing and able to say goodbye. I reach into the heart of the giant before me.
"It's you!" I say aloud, again. You, who had served me so well have become painful, even embarrassing.
Farewell to you!
Fare thee well, my neon-orange-platform-sneaker-Spice Girl shoes.

A Belated Day 5

The Didactic Cinquain

relationships
hard, easy
holding on tightly
love happiness pain fear
bonds

A grandiose and obscure salute to Iain M. Banks

Day four of napowrimo indulged me in my love for the almost useless grandeur of ridiculous vernacular that I have collected through my voracious appetite for books. And yet, while the poem has the title of of one of Mr. Banks famed ships, I have used it only to give a name. It took four days to write because I felt any attempt was too personal. Then I realized that's what my poetry is. Intensely personal. Lacking borders. Poetry is my personality. I'm nothing if not TMI.

"Falling Outside the Normal Moral Constraints"

Wallowing in the seven deadly sins
Relishing the gluttony and the greed
Priding myself on lust and need
Envying the happy, healthy, lovely, wealthy
Raging at the sloth dwelling inside
Fearing the wrath that I often hide
Floundering in these ever-present toxins

A Sea Shanty

A sea shanty is usually sung in a call and response format. Made up on the spot oftentimes, a shanty may be entirely nonsensical or it may tell a story. On this third day of napowrimo, I've decided to go with a story.

Daughters, can you hear me?
-Aye, mom, we can!
Who has made this mess out here?
-Aye, the invisible man!
Shall I be the maid now?
-Aye, grab your broom and pan!
What has become of my life, dears?
-Aye, it has been overran!
Children, where is your father?
-Aye, frying up food in the pan!
Have I scheduled life down to the minute?
-Aye, but we ruined the plan!
When will I get a vacation?
-Aye, when it's too cold to tan!
Would I trade all of this for anything?
Nay, you're the core of our clan!

Lie To Me

Second in the napowrimo series of prompts is to tell a lie.

The Big Lie
easy.
sure.
yes.
of course!
why not?
sounds great!
no problem at all.
fine.
OK.
good.

NaPoWriMo 2013

I have decided to join in for the daunting task of writing 30 poems in 30 days.
I am using prompts from www.napowrimo.net and have completed my first poem.
I've used the opening line from Maya Angelou's poem, "Insomniac".

There are some nights when

The pitch is deeper, darker, terrifying
The air is crushing, silent, desiccating
Pearls and diamonds of sweat create a sheen upon my brow, and breast- rivulets of panic streaming from my pores
Shivering
Anxiety, Panic
The abyss of night has forced me to leap into the sky
That is also too vast and I'm scared
The night knows how to keep me awake