PAD 2022 – Day 27

The NaPoWriMo.net prompt for the day was to write a “duplex.” A “duplex” is a variation on the sonnet, developed by the poet Jericho Brown. Here’s one of his first “Duplex” poems, and here is a duplex written by the poet I.S. Jones. Like a typical sonnet, a duplex has fourteen lines. It’s organized into seven, two-line stanzas. The second line of the first stanza is echoed by (but not identical to) the first line of the second stanza, the second line of the second stanza is echoed by (but not identical to) the first line of the third stanza, and so on. The last line of the poem is the same as the first. Completing this was tough for me, partly because it’s an exciting, but challenging form, and partly because what emerged in the writing was a difficult topic. I’d say it’s definitely not ready, but my opening and closing line to share are:

Some memories are fluid, like water taking the shape of what holds them.

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PAD 2022 – Day 9

Day nine, and going with a prompt that keeps me in line. NaPoWriMo.net suggests trying the nonet! A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second has eight, and so on until you get to the last line, which has just one syllable. I had a hard time finding a subject, so went with the action I always seem to take whenever there’s a form that calls for counting.

Rat-A-Tat

At least once in the month of April

you will catch a poet’s fingers

tapping rhythm and meter

as though they were Ringo

magic-ing their way

to the perfect,

enchanted,

final

beat.

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PAD 2022 – Day 6

Today there were two prompts to choose from: “message in a bottle” or write an acrostic poem where each line starts with a word that, when read down, reads as its own line of original or classic poetry, or a headline, etc.

I had energy to do short poems for both (or maybe I was just procrastinating…).

The first, a “message in a bottle” micro:

my

message in a bottle

sent blank

rescue

is an easier word

to say than accept

And the second, with war and atrocity so heavy on my mind, I wrote an acrostic (below) that takes title and line inspiration from “The Soldier” by Rupert Brooke, which you can read here.

In Some Corner of a Foreign Field

If there is one benefit of war, to the snarling wounds of those who are caught,

I can’t see it. I will never forget her hand, edge of the photograph cutting off what

should be grasping a hot latte, or brushing her son’s hair before school. Thriving. To

die is always our fate, but not like this. No one should. When I can’t

think about it anymore — (she was wearing a watch, a wedding band) — can’t have

only these images of life stilled, stopped, in

this most horrifying way, I turn up my music, sweep the floor, make a list

of everything I need on my weekly grocery run, wallow in some life of

me that seems, now, utterly selfish and necessary.

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PAD 2022 – Day 5

Today I chose to go with the 30/30 prompt “borderline.” I tried my hand at a short acrostic, both because I am a bit busy today, and because I was a little stuck. Sometimes working with the constraints of a form is exactly what I need to get something written.

Acrostic

Beyond any reason, we’re

ordered into thinking the

right way to shape humanity is

demarcation. Classification. Our stake

ends here, yours there. Do not cross.

Remember your place.

Learn tribalism. Othering.

In here we are one

nation, do not divide us,

except from them.

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PAD 2022 – Day 3

Today’s poem-a-day prompt is the strangely phrased, but somehow pleasing, “morning rain forgiven.”

I’m both a bit short on inspiration, and a little pressed for time, so only eked out a tanka:

hope is to believe

there’s something every day

that’s worth the marvel

that morning rain on the face

opens you to forgiveness

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