Today I am preoccupied with trying to complete the CV2 2-Day Poem Contest, so my daily poem is just a super shorty. I used the 30/30 prompt “dark water.”
lake at midnight so much remains hidden in it, in you
PAD 2021 – Day 25
Author: mannixk
PAD 2021 – Day 24
Today I used the 30/30 prompt calling for a “Ten Things” poem.
10 things about this morning There are birds. An entire assembly welcoming the day from the bare lilac bushes outside my bedroom window. There is sun. Spilling through that window, because some lucky Saturdays it awakens before I do. There is coffee. No less enjoyed though it’s been made and poured by only me. There are dishes. Left drying on a rack after another meal spent with people I’m fortunate to make a home with. There is a table. Awash in morning light, and shadows cast from the chairs we use to make it a gathering place. There are cats. Greeting me with demand, but also affection. Possibly gratitude. There is a sweater. Once belonging to my mom. Slipped over shoulders that have yet to carry what she did. There is a message. From a faraway friend offering small but welcome news. There are seedlings. In need of water and attention. Patient in their want of a whole garden. There are words. Waiting to be fished from a mysterious stream that reliably flows, even when I’ve wandered far from its banks.
PAD 2021 – Day 23
Today’s NaPoWriMo.net prompt called for writers to create a poem that responds, in some way, to another. This could be as simple as using a line or image from another poem as a jumping-off point, or it could be a more formal poetic response to the argument or ideas raised in anothe poem.I have too many favourite poems, so decided instead to open randomly to any page in All Of Us: The Collected Poems by Raymond Carver (who is a favourite writer or mine). I happened up on the poem “The Minuet” (photo below) which I had never read before, but which, by some poetic magic, definitely spoke to me at this moment in my life. I didn’t set out to match the poem’s line rhythms and number, but once I started in with the voice of his poem’s dancer, it sort of fell into step.
The Spark New moon night. I am awake with want of everything. This life to move in triple time. Or stop, when someone comes in. A person who tiptoes, or could. Would see the glimmer of light off the diamond I carry. How it acts something like a spark. That ancient igniter. Of fire. I’ve danced through that by chance and choice. Am still asking for more.
PAD 2021 – Day 22
Today I went with a poetry prompt from Writer’s Digest asking for a “_______ Me” titled poem. Writing the poem didn’t take long, but after it came out, I couldn’t decided if it was finished, or if it had gone off in the direction I wanted. Is it saying too little? Too much? Most of the time I post what I’ve written, no matter the disheveled state they’re in. But some days words need a little more time under the covers, cuddling or hiding, until they’re ready to, as my Mom was fond of saying, “face the day.”
PAD 2021 – Day 20
This is my first ever try at at a sijo, the traditional Korean form prompted today by NaPoWriMo.net. Like the haiku, it has three lines, but the lines are much longer. Typically, they are 14-16 syllables, and optimally each line will consist of two parts – like two sentences, or a sentence of two clauses divided by a comma. In terms of overall structure, a sijo functions like an abbreviated sonnet, in that the first line sets up an inquiry or discussion, the second line continues the discussion, and the third line resolves it with a “twist” or surprise. For more on the sijo, check out the primer here and a long list of examples in English, here. I am quite sure I didn’t hit all the criteria here to make it a good sijo, but I like trying new forms, so this was pretty cool.
At The Window In This Room At sunset we stand too close, fingers grazing, I step aside. It’s old work, watching for sparks, checking for heat, damping down flames. But still the fire keeps burning, until there is more smoke than air.
PAD 2021 – Day 19
I really did write a poem today, but I’m not sure it’s fully dressed to face the world, so instead I will post the prompt I used: a 30/30 call to incorporate “constant / transient / permanent” into a poem.
Photo by Jakub Novacek on Pexels.com
PAD 2021 – Day 18
Using the 30/30 prompt “susurration” to build on a recent moment with my daughter.
There Will Be Gentle Things I miss normal she whispered to me as I rubbed a circle over her back, some kind of dial to move her toward sleep, toward an even quieter place than this darkened bedroom, where the hard edges and jagged ridges of the last year have dissolved into only soft S sounds, the small swish of two pages closing against one another.
PAD 2021 – Day 17
Using the NaPoWriMo.net suggestion to stop fighting the moon. Lean in. Accept the moon. Do what poets have done and keep on doing and write a poem that is about, or that involves, the moon. I added a dab of the 30/30 prompt, “house I used to live in,” too.
Another Moon Poem Nothing new can be written about the moon. No question or tribute that hasn’t been said better, brighter. How its round face has been held responsible for madness, but also revered. Relief in the dark. I’m remembering it now, on the back deck of our first house, no-cloud night with a handful of stars tossed in patterns that scattered differently than the ones we looked to growing up. I know you’ve marveled at it too. Felt tethered, just like the inevitable ocean.
PAD 2021 – Day 16
Both short on time and inspiration today, but tried to work the 30/30 prompt “dystopic diagram” into a micro.
apocalypse sketch a large circle in the dirt we trace for answers
PAD 2021 – Day 15
Today I took inspiration from the Writer’s Digest prompt to write a poem with a “_________ Story” title, and the NaPoWriMo.net prompt from Juan Martinez. It asks you to think about a small habit you picked up from one of your parents, and then to write a piece that explores an early memory of your parent engaged in that habit, before shifting into writing about yourself engaging in the same habit.
Kitchen Story She moved through the small space too quickly for me to keep track of her hands, mother magician with a whisk for a wand, tea towel for a cape, throwing the threadbare plaid cloth over her shoulder with a flourish when concentration was at its highest. I feel it now too, the furrowed expression of attentiveness on my face, a meditation almost, kitchen work. Poring over a recipe, looking for the unwritten instructions that will make for a close imitation, if never as good as hers. The way, I too, wipe my hands, then throw the towel across my left shoulder, as though the ritual will result in big reveal: here she is! Again, all along.
makes/me/so/digress 