Tuesday, April 10, 2012

NaPoWriMo - Catch up Days 1-10 with apologies for lateness getting on the train and delight to be riding along

NaPoWriMo  -apologies something strange going on here tonight cannot add any photos between poems will try again tomorrow.. again hope I have not offended any - by rushing out 10 poems to catch up ... 

Day 1 – A Triolet – Still Possible

Still Possible

There was a time when I thought that all was yet to come
Hopeful, possible with simple effort expended
Then time ran as proverbial sand vanished now then from
There was a time when I thought all was yet to come
Uncertain now I stand at the shore sipped on coke and rum
The tide reaches toward my bare feet extended
There was a time when I thought that all was yet to come
Hopeful, possible with simple effort expended

Day Two – Musical Line Poem - They Said They Were Too Young To Love

“They say that we’re too young to love”
they sang
young raven haired boy father
hair rakish over smoldered eyes
mother so tall and slender he
called her Stretch his arm
in command on her back
as they moved together
in the long ago living room
where a little girl watched
and knew
they weren’t too young
at all

Day Three – An Epithalamium – Wedding Close

She didn’t wear a long white dress
Diaphanous and blowing around her bare ankles
In the tropic breeze
Instead something tiny designer trendy
He in brilliant white rolled at elbow and shin
She had no flowers in her hair
They had no bower above their heads
Yet between us she almost
Down the sand
At first look
Turquoise sea no match for her
Shining already wedded eyes

Day Four – Blues Poem – Like A Rumbled Storm

My man has a temper like a rumbled storm
True, my man has a temper like a rumbled storm
You ever stand out in the rain when the lightning comes

My man has a temper like a rumbled storm
That is the truth, he has that temper like a rumbled storm
But I ain’t afraid of the tempest caught in the wet rain pounding

My man has a temper like a rumbled storm
My man has that temper in him like a rumbling storm
And it hurts so good to drink him down

Day Five – Tee-Ball

It was the first day
He was just four
But they said he could
Play with the big boys
The big boys of five
And one of six
Helmet falling over eyes
Fixed on that tee
That kept moving
In mystical machinations
Declining the heavy
Downswung bat
Until it stopped
And the stands roared
As the ball fell and dribbled
Off into the red dirt rolling
Halfway to pitcher’s mound

Day Six -  The Feral Kitten  (with apologies to Marianne Moore)

From the waving marsh
            Of boundless sea salted creatures
            Sleeping, skulking, foraging
                        Collected in mystical colonies
Across the road
Skipping small
            Fluff of coal, moving with purpose
            Up impossible paving stoned
                        Stairs where people stay
From the waving marsh
            And do not run as blood brothers
            And mothers instructed
                        Stand on legs of inches
            Surrender all for the door
            That opens and arms
                        That hold you close
From the waving marsh
            To the kingdom in which
            You shall reign on little cat feet supreme
                        Over all within

Day Seven – A Color Poem – Red

She rises from the fetid pallet shared by siblings younger, burning in the still black night. Walks in shred of clothes of sleep-feet bare on stones outside the hanging door, into the open air, burnt in stilled unknown conflagration, stands at the off hinged gardened gate and runs through toward the flame of the horizon of her suddenly certain crimsoned horizon.

Day Eight – Outside Poem – To The Sea

Early morning
Doors still shut
Quiet ringing
First bird trills
As road crossed
And through
The open latched
Gate purchase
Found to the sea
The long road winding
Away through grassy
Promenade of just waking
Canada geese
Glowering on both sides
Focused eyes remain fixed
Ahead to the thin blue line
Widening with each breathed
Step salted air
Singing the Siren song
Of the approaching shore

Day Nine – A Persona Poem – Harry Stack Sullivan (psychoanalyst)

I entered that dim chamber
That circled the abyss within
Which I would later learn we
All would circle in ghastly perimeter
I entered that dim chamber
Looking for the laughing mother
Who had vanished one strange
Night of mysterious screams
And found instead sitting
Still as death itself her visage
Something small stiff
against her bared breast
“Your brother” she stretched dry
Lips over yellowed grin
Reached her tremored hand
to bring me close
to them as I withdrew
Back to forever seek unknowing
Now revealed

Day Ten – First Line … A Poem Is Dead, When It Is Said (Emily Dickenson)

A poem is dead
When it is said
Is true the forced
For poetry dances
On multiple plains
Of senses folded
One upon another
Understood within
Deconstructed upon

Day 11 - 5 Sense Poem ... The Shimmering

There in wet frangipani bushland drift blossoms across silk sheened skin - she, young and barely there, reaches two fingers to press a petal against her pastel palm as soft silence thrums her songbird pulse in languid luxuriation lifting the bloom past parted lips tipped to tilted tongue the frangipanied elixered ecstasy melting as molten manna, she sighs soaked sentient sensory satiation - Shimmering.


Day 11 - 5 Sense Poem ... Bubble Gum

Held hard in damp five year-old-palm,
The five cent piece
Stretched on tip toe to clink the counter
Exchanged one single pink chubbed rectangle
Unwrapped in crackled release
scent of sacred sweetness sticky

1 comment:

  1. Well done for catching up!! I'm still catching up, only have three days' worth so far, you can see them here if you are interested: http://thetigerssterne.blogspot.co.uk/p/30-poems-in-30-days.html

    Hope you're having fun with this!! :3