Misura Crescente

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I

Am

Able

To fathom

Multiplication of

Sun-shaped “leeches”seeking new homes.

Each Pair of lungs becomes weaker, times two, doubling, infinita infinitis.

Isolating—hiding from Aching, Burning, Coughing, to hide our Aching, Burning, Coughing—Isolating even when it is too late and not enough—Ice. Soul. Late.

The crescent curve on the graphs/charts/maps that total the tolls and count the cases represents the exponential misery that cannot be totaled, because there is more ahead and the numbers keep growing. We can measure the growth and measure the growth, always, always watching the crescent point towards more.

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Where is Your Crown?

National Poetry Writing Month, Day Two


From http://www.napowrimo.net/
“Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that similarly resists closure by ending on a question, inviting the reader to continue the process of reading (and, in some ways, writing) the poem even after the poem ends.

Happy writing!”

Where is Your Crown?

Do you know that you descended from kings and queens?
Can you see that you are regal?
How will you realize that you will inherit the Kingdom?
Do you know how much you are worth?

 

Do you know that you are a survivor?
Can you see that you are strong and brilliant?
How will you recognize that beauty that lives inside you?
Do you know that you are loved?

 

Do you know that your dreams are valid?
Can you see that you are on the way up?
How can I help you see your value?
Can you please put back on your crown?

How to Write a Poem

Day One — National Poetry Writing Month http://www.napowrimo.net/

“For our first (optional) prompt, let’s take our cue from O’Neil’s poem, and write poems that provide the reader with instructions on how to do something. It can be a sort of recipe, like O’Neil’s poem. Or you could try to play on the notorious unreliability of instructional manuals (if you’ve ever tried to put IKEA furniture together, you know what I mean). You could even write a dis-instruction poem, that tells the reader how not to do something. Happy writing!”

 

How to Write a Poem

Sit down.

Scribble ideas.

Scratch the surface—

Pen to paper.

Miss the mark.

Pause.

Stand up.

Walk away.

Go outside.

Rake leaves.

Talk to neighbors—

Witty exchanges,

Clever words,

Flowing.

Remind yourself

That you

Were searching

For meaningful words.

Go inside,

Return to task—

Poem-planning.

Dig deep

For expert expressions,

Figurative phrases,

That tell

A secret

Or celebrate something.

Try for a metaphor that

Falls flat,

Like a

Scanty simile.

 

Scratch.

Scratch it out.

Start again.

Stack short sayings

One upon another—

Expressions

That may

Topple over because

There

Is

No

Meaningful

Foundation

On

Which

The

Blether

Blather

Babble

Gabble

Prattle

Chatter

Jabber

Can

Stand.

THE MAN WHO SEES THINGS

The Day 5 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net was a wild one.  I clicked on each link and counted to 23 in order to randomly select the image and the poem.  This is what I found:
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DE GEBRUIKER VAN DIT LICHAAM
Vliegangst is het scherpste protest tegen CO2: thuisblijven en
pissen in de pompbak, gedistilleerd drinken tegen waterschaarste
schepje rijst per dag. Kluizenaar met wilde haren wist het
stilzitten is de beste bescherming tegen pijn. Blijf binnen.

Isolatie is het beste antwoord op hitte, kou, geluidsoverlast en
information overload. Keuzeverlamming wordt lifestyle. Gelukkig is
een leven niet groter dan het blikveld van een oude kat die zich
oppervlakkig ademend steeds kleiner oprolt tot ze in zichzelf verdwijnt.

Kluizenaar vergist zich. Een lichaam kan niet niet bewegen
altijd pompter iets in rond: verlangen, verlangen en lucht. Sterven is

stilstand is sterven maar zelfs na het zwijgen van de pompen
het verteren van de cellen het verkleuren van de huid

zelfs binnen het dode lijf is er geen stilstand: sterrenstof werd kind
werd kluizenaar wordt sterrenstof wordt opgevreten, meegedragen
laat los, waait steeds verder van de kern, maar waait, beweegt.

-Runa Svetlikova

THE MAN WHO SEES THINGS

Some say that he is a ghost—man who is spirit, or at least
a man who knows his spirits well.  His boozy breath gets
worse through the evenings when his mind needs escape
from the desperate darkness troubling his bones.  Sadness.

He moves through town quietly, a nod, a smirk, a chortle
when he eyes someone eyeing him.  Aye, to see him
is to question everything—humanity, peace, poverty, power.
He holds these things with fingerless gloves and grace.

Rumors tell of a riches to rags route, a journey he will 
confirm and deny with a shrug of his shoulders.  Chin tilted
sideways, he turns the other cheek while gazing at
the infinite above us.  He sees things that we don’t.

I want to know and understand as he does.  What wisdom, what 
freedom, what calm he seems to know; while I am more familiar 
with clean clothes, new car smell, bills, anxiety, and fear. 

Warning

For Day 3 of NaPoWriMo I decided to do my own thing.  This is based on Langston Hughes’ poem “Harlem” which can be found at Poetry Foundation.

 

What happens to a voice unheard?

         Does it get lodged
         Like popcorn kernels behind a tonsil?
         Or deflate like a tire—
         And then collapse?
         Does it smell like singed hair?
         Or bubble and fizz—
         Like a chemical reaction?

         Maybe it just whispers
         Like cotton in one’s ears.

         Or does it scream?

 

 

After Words

 

Your radiant words—
Shiny, glowing, and full of promise—

Fool me not.

I have witnessed the way
Your warped lies wiggle

Like worms into dark soil.

You speak of liberty,
But captivating chatter rings hollow.

You are fluent in the language of the Oppressor.

Your rancid words—
Slimy, groping, and full of poison—

Fooled me before.

-Day Two of http://www.napowrimo.net

Forewarning

Truth
Self-evident Exactspeak
Illuminating, Vulnerabling, Braving,
There is no grey; there is only gray.
Blaming, justifying, Avoiding
Opaque daggers
Lies

NaPoWriMo.net Day 18  “Today, I challenge you to write a poem that incorporates neologisms. What’s that? Well, it’s a made-up word! Your neologisms could be portmanteaus (basically, a word made from combining two existing words, like “motel” coming from “motor” and “hotel”) or they could be words invented entirely for their sound.”

Let Us Waltz

NaPoWriMo.net – Day 17 – “And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, I challenge you to write a nocturne. In music, a nocturne is a composition meant to be played at night, usually for piano, and with a tender and melancholy sort of sound. Your nocturne should aim to translate this sensibility into poetic form!”

 

Instead of a nocturne,
I wrote a waltz today.

No foxtrot,
Merengue,
Or mambo.
Can move us
Properly.
Let us waltz.

Hair flowing,
Feet dancing,
Hands holding,
We’re swinging,
Hearts beating—
Let us waltz.

You’re smiling;
I’m grinning.
We’re twirling,
And spinning.
You and me,
Let us waltz.

 

United Airlines

Budget-changing United Airlines
Has found it’s way into the headlines—
While peanuts are no longer complimentary,
They’re happy to throw in a concussion for free.

 

 

 

NaPoWriMo.net – Day 14 – a clerihew poem

 

Lipgloss

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Brighten
Bee-stung
Bow-shaped lips
With burgundy blush.
Swab some
shiny,
sleek,
slick,
slippery,
shimmery, silicate silk
sideways
To play up
That part that pouts.
Grab a tube of
Glassy glimmer glitter
A tube of twilight tulips
A wand with wintry wine
Or be
Pleasantly Pleased
with plain pink.

NaPoWriMo.net – Day 12 – “Today, I’d like you to write a poem that explicitly incorporates alliteration (the use of repeated consonant sounds) and assonance (the use of repeated vowel sounds). This doesn’t mean necessarily limiting yourself to a few consonants or vowels, although it could. Even relatively restrained alliteration and assonance can help tighten a poem, with the sounds reinforcing the sense.”