Still Life with Elephant (NaPoWriMo 6)


Still Life with Elephant (Denial)


O.
Because I have no words—
Only images—
Memories—Pain—
I will carry as much as I can.

I.

Mommy?
Daddy?

III.

Look! Duckies!
Skip, run,
Play, hooray,
Hop,
Heavenly
Happiness.

VII.
School
Safety
Study
Serenity

 X.

 

 

XII.

Achieve
Achieve
Accomplish
Achieve
Do more.
Everything
Is fine.

XVI.

I didn’t mean to be
Rebellious,
Sassy, or
To talk back.
I just thought I
Saw an elephant,
maybe.
Whatever.


XX.

Yep. Definitely
An elephant, maybe several.
I can see the grey
And smell the evidence
Of their presence.
I can’t talk about it
Right now, though.
The stench is too
Raw.
Maybe I just need to
CLEAN
Everything.

 XXXII.

I hear rumbling.
Perhaps roaring?
Who is this
That cries and screeches for
Help? 

XL.

I was born to be a mahout.
I am becoming whole,
Learning to balance,
And I now recognize this
Behemoth as
A healer And my friend.
The elephant
That was once “in the room”
Is now free.
Together we face
Our journey.
Our pain.
Our story.
Our trumpeting.
Our victory.

NaPoWriMo.net – Day 6 Prompt “And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that looks at the same thing from various points of view. The most famous poem of this type is probably Wallace Stevens’ “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird”. You don’t need to have thirteen ways of looking at something – just a few will do!
Happy writing!”

Iris (NaPoWriMo – Day 5)



Screen Shot 2017-04-08 at 5.48.53 PM

Sometimes, when home was a battleground
And the rest of the world seemed equally formidable,
I’d escape to the tiny fir fortress
That lined the front of the house.
Armored behind an Arborvitae acropolis,
I would wait out the storm
Of drunken denunciations
and loaded questions. Cradled
Between bricks and bushy branches,
I discovered a fragrant friend.
Iris.
She was late, as the flowers of spring
Had come and gone.
Lily of the valley
Whispers could no longer be heard.
She was diagonal—
Leaning toward the light
That forced its way between the shrubs.
She was evanescent.
As soon as I discovered her each summer,
I knew she would only be around for a few days.
Then, she would wilt, shriveling
As she aged.
Fortunately,
She would return each summer—
Just when I forgot, or thought
She’d forgotten—
She would rise up,
A Champion,
Flaunting her fruity falls,
To remind me—
To make sure that
I see—
Even in the darkest corners,
Even when I had waited longer than
I thought I could bear,
Beauty,
Hope,
always pushes through.

Day 5 Prompt from NaPoWriMo.net “In honor of Mary Oliver’s work, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that is based in the natural world: it could be about a particular plant, animal, or a particular landscape. But it should be about a slice of the natural world that you have personally experienced and optimally, one that you have experienced often. Try to incorporate specific details while also stating why you find the chosen place or plant/animal meaningful.”

K ‘Bye!

K ‘Bye! or If Only I’d Been Prudent
(NaPoWriMo2017 – Day 3)

Breakthrough
Adieu
Untrue
Withdrew
Wishing for a breakthrough? – Adieu! – See?
Knowing you’d been untrue withdrew me.

 

This is a Tyburn Poem, which is a six-line poem. The first four lines consist of  a single, two-syllable word, each rhyming with the previous and subsequent word. Line 5 has nine syllables, with the fifth to eighth syllables using the words from lines 1 and 2. Line 6 has nine syllables too, with the fifth to eighth syllables using lines 3 and 4.

 

When I Grow Up, I want to be a Fire Truck

screen-shot-2017-02-10-at-6-22-30-pmFire truck

I remember looking through
an old childhood book,
In which I had added
My two cents.
With all of my sense,
And my backward-letter
Penmanship, I had plotted
my plans
on the page.

“When I grow up
I want to be
a firetruck.”

Since then,
I had laughed at
Such silly, sophomoric
Sentiment.

“Look,” I’d say, and point
at my self-prescribed,
Pre-school script.
“I really took it to heart
When they told me I could be
Anything I wanted.
A firetruck?
What could I have
Been thinking?”

But, tonight,
As I listed and lamented
The long list of
Other occupations

I had once considered:

Interior designer,
Psychologist,
Cultural anthropologist,
I realized something. . .

Haven’t I since,
In a sense,
Become all of these things?

Except for the fire truck.

But that, perhaps, is
What I am to become.

I still
Want to be
A fire truck!

You see, of a fire truck,

Nobody has ever said:

“Don’t listen to her,
she’s just overreacting.”

“He’s making all of that noise,
Because he didn’t get his way.”

When fire truck wails and screams,
nobody says:

“She has become angry and bitter.”

“Maybe he wants something to really cry about.”

“She’s probably about to get her period.”

“He’s being irrational and crazy.”

As the fire truck
Declares an emergency,
Nobody dismisses it with:

“I don’t know why she is crying. It was her own fault.”

“There he goes, getting all political again.”

“She has no reason to be upset.
She is just being manipulative.”

“Dude, seriously?
Are you complaining again?”

But, a fire truck is respected,
Heard, heeded, honored.

The fire truck is a warrior,
Shouting out
An alarm call,
A barbaric yawp,
A siren cry to save lives.

The fire truck is
not a second-hand good.
Not a victim,

A fire truck is not
Something to be seen and not heard,
But instead,
Is a voice.
A voice that matters.

A voice that pushes through denial
Saying
“Hey!
There is something wrong here.
I can point it out.
I can lead the way.
Hear me.”

I still
Want to be
A fire truck!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 




 

NaPoWriMo – Day 20

Fog

Screen Shot 2016-04-20 at 5.21.59 PM

Condensation-collecting
Gray-spreading
Low-hanging

Visibility-visor
Light-filter
Gloom-gatherer

Pond-covering
Grass-hiding
Sight-obscuring

Route-ruiner
Cloud-copier
Vapor-levitator

Dawn-Brooding
Dusk-Hovering
Breath-taking

Mist-amasser
Mass-mister
Haze-master


NaPoWriMo Prompt – Kennings Poem

What is a Kennings Poem?

A Kenning is a two word phrase describing an object often using a metaphor. A Kennings poem consists of several stanzas of two describing words. It can be made up of any number of Kennings.

Day 11 – Poetry Month (Limerick)

Med Head: My Knock-down, Drag-out, Drugged-up Battle with My Brain by James Patterson

https://i1.wp.com/www.jamespatterson.com/im/books/lg-medHead.jpg

 

There once was a young man named Cory,

Who had a triumphant story –

Tourette’s, OCD,

Mixed with anxiety-

Tough love (not the meds) brought him glory.

Poetry Month – Day 5

When I made the decision to post a poem each day of this month, it was with the intention of writing a different type of poem each day.  I keep coming across the Blitz poem (invented by Robert Keim), and I felt the need to try it.  It was challenging, but fun.  Here’s what I came up with…

Man-All

Man o’ war

Man of steel

Steel boned corsets

Steel cut oats

Oats and whey

Oats and grains

Grains of sand

Grains of truth

Truth or dare

Truth be told

Told you twice

Told you so

So it goes

So you say

Say a prayer

Say my name

Name of names

Name that tune

Tune the piano

Tune in

In the closet

In the dark

Dark of night

Dark of day

Day of reckoning

Day-dream

Dream a dream

Dream and wish

Wish on a star

Wish me luck

Luck of the Irish

Luck be a lady

Lady and gent

Lady in waiting

Waiting on train

Waiting on a friend

Friend indeed

Friend in need

Need a break

Need a drink

Drink it up

Drink to that

That is all

That is enough

Enough to eat

Enough said

Said it all

Said it best

Best…

All…