A micro, responding to today’s 30/30 prompt “first word.”
Trying
to make the first words
of every morning
sound like Thank You
PAD 2022- Day 16
30/30
PAD 2022 – Day 4
Today I tried to blend two prompts, the first being “another word for salvation” and the second being to write a poem in the form of a prompt. Intriguing, right? The example given was by Mathias Svalina, who posts his surrealist prompt poems on Instagram. You can find examples here, and here, and here.
I am absolutely wild about this style of poem, and wish mine had turned out half as cool as his are, but I will share it anyway:
Writing Prompt
- In your notebook, with a black pen, write three words that remind you of salvation.
- Say them out loud.
- Tear them from the book, crumple or fold the paper, and offer it to the wind.
- Place your hand on your chest and feel
- it rise, as you suck a portion of that wind deep into your lungs.
- Hold.
- Think of the taste of an orange.
- Your eyes are shut, but you know there is sunlight because it is not completely dark.
- Not even in here.
- Think of the first time you made someone’s face blush with playful embarrassment or
- lust. Remember the first time it happened to you. If the memories match, you can hold
- on longer to that breath. If they don’t, you can too.
- Think of the sound of a closing door.
- Count backward from four as you release what you’re holding.
- The whisper over your lips is the poem.
PAD 2022 – Day 2
For today’s PAD challenge, I went with the 30/30 prompt “corresponding with ghosts.” Fitting, because today would have been my Mom’s 79th birthday, so ghosts of a sort are on my mind.
I came up with a short poem, inspired by a ouija board, that I might expand on at some point. My one line to share is:
I don’t need a planchette to lead me to you. There are always dreams,
strange and funny. Absurdity is a good balm.
PAD 2021 – Day 30
It’s almost over! Do I write this with happiness or regret? Maybe both. Certainly finding the motivation to write some days this month has been a challenge, but it’s also been a kind of comfort to have a routine, and so many other new poems from others to inspire me.
The final NaPoWriMo.net prompt challenges you to write a poem in the form of a series of directions describing how a person should get to a particular place. It could be a real place, like your local park, or an imaginary or unreal place, like “the bottom of your heart,” or “where missing socks go.” Fill your poem with sensory details, and make them as wild or intimate as you like.
How to Get to the Back Deck to Drink Your Coffee Never assume a short journey is an easy one. Begin by preparing for diversions — a phone call you don’t want to answer; the broken glass you’ll have to carefully pick up, when a too-quick pivot to answer a child calling from another room results in an elbow knocking last night’s wine glass from the counter. Allow time for a loud expletive, then a sigh. Embrace exasperations that end in small relief. When it seems there is quiet — a gifted moment when no one remembers you’re there — pour coffee into your favourite mug, or your favourite right now, one that knows the shape of your hand. Take soft steps toward your destination. Watch out for the squeaky spot between the kitchen and the dining room. Keep your hip clear of the metal chair, pushed back from the table after someone’s hurried breakfast, now collecting sun from the bare window. Casting shadow on an unswept floor. Turn the lock on the deck door cautiously, with one foot out to the side, that experienced stance to block escape artist cats. Open only as wide as is needed for you to slip through. Don’t pause at the threshold, overcome with birdsong or the welcome wash of cool air. Just get out there. Sit. And stay. Even after you’re needed on the inside again. Stay, sipping hot coffee and staring at clouds. Let a part of you remain.
PAD 2021 – Day 28
Today’s 30/30 prompt was simply “skyline.” The NaPoWriMo.net prompt asked for a poem that poses a series of questions. The questions could be a mix of the serious (“What is the meaning of life?”) and humorous (“What’s the deal with cats knocking things off tables?”), the interruptive (“Could you repeat that?”) and the conversational (“Are those peanuts? Can I have some?”). I decided, based on my ongoing obsession with the sky and constantly taking photos of it, to combine the two for a super short poem that I could potentially build on later.
5 Questions to Ask The Sky How does it feel to hold the sun? Which clouds are the teenagers? Do you feel less alone after the release of rain? What’s your favourite song? Can anything, even blue, really be limitless?
PAD 2021 – Day 26
I already wrote a moon poem earlier this month, but to hold true to the poetic stereotype, I have more to say about it. Today I used the 30/30 prompt “concentration moon” to come up with a few quick micros.
meditate
on the full face
of a super moon
but still come up
ordinary
***
pandemic thoughts
like phases of the moon
wax wan new repeat
***
when I lose
the day’s light
I try to remember
that it’s yet held
by the moon
PAD 2021 – Day 25
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 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 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 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.
makes/me/so/digress 