Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Napowrimo 15

Today's NAPO is super rough, because, well, I only had a few moments for poetry, unfortunately.

The Body's Prophecies

Like blood moons, they come in terads: rage
you swallowed down and kept hidden deep
within the tabernacle of your throat
that only shows in the ruddy hue
your cheeks wear when you clench
your teeth, the aftermath of kisses
on the neck, the sudden rush of shame
that fills your downturned face, and finally,
the moment when the body lets go
of this month's faithful prophecy
and leaves a mark the color of the moon.



Here, what I want to do, is incorporate the fantastical and biblical language surrounding the blood moon to describe the body. Eh. Maybe I'll come back to it later.

Monday, April 14, 2014

Napowrimo 14

Today's prompt was to write a poem in the form of questions. Here's mine:

Ten Questions

Why forgive when you can hold a grudge,
like Adam with his arms across his chest,
a chunk of apple stuck inside his throat?
And how can my mesquite tree keep faith

in such a violent gust of wind, release
the bean pods to the storm that took her limbs?
Did Noah's wife protest, doubt for a moment,
second guess and call his prophecies

the murmurings of madness? How does crow
taste? Is it sweet like dove? Did Hera
ever really think that Zeus would learn
to keep it in his pants? Why don't lantanas

just close up their petals when they're done,
why keeping on feeding thirsty hummingbirds?
And why should I forgive your numerous
mistakes? A toilet seat left up, machete

taken to my favorite prickly pear,
the way you always listen to the wind?
Because like Adam needed Eve, I need
you more than just an empty paradise.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Napowrimo 13

Today's assignment was to write something that included a kenning, a kind of Norse metaphor. The kenning I decided to modify was "destroyer of brambles" which means, well, wind.

What Dolly Did to my Palm

She was a lover of the loose,
could make a skirt fall
to the ground with just a whisper.

It began as just a gentle sway,
like two awkward teens
a slow dance at prom,
unsure of who should lead
and who should follow.
It wasn't until the wind
kicked up, a fast-paced cumbia,
a finger ran through loose
and tangled hair, a gasp
of gusts, a whistling of wind,
an arm around the waist
that she let go.

I couldn't watch for fear
that I would too become
a willing victim to the wind,
take flight and sing the song
of hurricanes. In the few calm
moments as the eye passed over
I peered out my window,
saw the discarded skirts
along the garden's bed,

and there my palm tree stood,
naked, breathless, ready
for another dance with Dolly.

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Napowrimo #12

Today's prompt was to think of a tangible and intangible noun, and then find sentences, and swap them out. I used "loneliness" and "boat" and came across an interesting find:

Did humans colonize the world by boat?

Swapped out loneliness for boat, and began musing. Here's my freewrite:

The Boat

Did humans colonize the world by loneliness
and loneliness alone? The search to see our faces
smiling back at us across generations of water,
continents of bodies, glaciers of tears and rivers
of pain? Was it loneliness that made us search
horizons, shield our eyes from the sun, seek out
one another? Was it loneliness that blew against
our sails like the wind takes twirling oak seeds
from the tree? Was it loneliness that taught
our tongues to speak, to mingle, intertwine
and kiss? Was it loneliness that made us see
our faces in the moon, our stories in the stars
our goddess in the sun's heavy rays? Was it loneliness

that brought my parents together one evening
in a cramped dorm room, was it loneliness
that brought me into being? Was it loneliness
that brought me here, staring at your face
illuminated by a candle's light, listening
to the quietness of raindrops on the roof.
We talk, exchange the pleasantries of words,
consider going through the motions of life
together: interlocking fingers, pressing lips
on lips, a tangling of legs beneath bedsheets.
But is it always loneliness that greets me
in the morning, before the day's first awkward kiss,
as the cold wind blows against my naked skin
and draws me out of bed, keeps me always searching
for something different, something more.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Napowrimo 11

I want to come back to this poem later on. Today's prompt was to write a wine love poem, and I decided to write it in the voice of a Meanad.

Advice from a Thirsty Maenad

Because we're not immortal
and life is far too short,
you have to learn to savor

every moment. Uncork this evening
with laughter, slide off your shoes
and raise a glass to everything.

Learn to swallow discretion
and let your lips touch every glass
you find. Leave your mark

in scarlet kisses of the past.
Send back what doesn't bring
you pleasure with a wave

of the back of your hand.
Savor tartness on the lips,
honey on the tongue. Taste

earth. Taste sweat. Taste raindrops.
Kiss strangers. Don't look back.
Bite lips. Dance to the pulses.

Wake with fog in your head
with mauve on your lips,
a parched throat, an aftertaste

of doubt always on your tongue.



Thursday, April 10, 2014

Napowrimo #10

Today's task is to write an adverstisement:


Afterwards

Forget sex. Sex sells itself. Sell this instead:
the quiet moment afterwards when time
begins to flow again, the opening of eyes,
the paniced realization that the world
is still the same: the moonlight, cold
and silver though the opened window,
the television's buzz, the emptiness
of wine glasses on the nightstand,
just a ring of mauve at the bottom,
a smudge of lipstick on the rim.
Find beauty in the body as the goosebumps
fade, in the slow curl back into itself
as it redraws the boundaries of yours
and mine, the drifting down from Olympus,
the slow walk out of Eden, head hung low,
the picking up of pieces from the ground
like windblown catkins after a storm.
The cicadas cease their singing. Stop
and listen to the sound of breath
between the numbness of your lips.


 

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Napowrimo #9

Today's prompt was to get your playlist and write a poem that included the titles of 5 random song titles. A few months back, a student of mine gave me some of his hipstery folk music, and actually, sometimes I like to listen to it while I'm working. My "heavy lifting" music is classical/instrumental, but this music is kind of nice for more freewrites and such. So anyway, it's become a part of my writing playlist on pandora. I digress. Here's my "poem" -- song titles in bold.



Who was that teenage girl with moons
For eyes, who thought that she could pack
Her things inside a beat-up baby blue
Sedan and leave her self behind:
A magazine of CDs, backpack filled
with Kerouac and tattered love poems
to some abstraction (that day, a boyfriend’s
midnight spikes of hair) black nail polish,
glass bottles filled with cherry coke?
You had your life before you to screw up –
It was too precious to waste on good behavior,
All the right decisions. You couldn’t wait
To shake it loose. This was a time for mistakes:
Closing your eyes and letting the wind
Run through your tangled hair, speeding
From this southern state of slow contentment.

And somehow you still ended up right here –
Like a specks of pollen or paint tossed
Onto a canvas, a beautiful mess of color
And of life. But now the baby blue sedan
Is rusted out and life’s soundtrack
Sounds like silence in the wind.
The little left of the boyfriend’s spikes
are slicked back and wet. Admit it now:
you’ll always be in love with this,
the sound of pennies shaken in a jar,
the shattering of glass on tiled floor.