aprpad

PAD 2022 – Day 9

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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 8

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I have been a day ahead all week, not on my poems, but in my mind. But today actually is Friday.

Had to get the poem done early, because of other things that have to be done, so it’s short again. If I had more time (or when I do!) I would try the NaPoWriMo prompt calling for poets to name your alter-ego, and then describe him/her in detail. Then write in your alter-ego’s voice. Maybe your alter-ego is a streetwise detective, or a superhero, or a very small goldfinch. It sounds fun and creative.

Instead I’ve gone with the 30/30 prompt “roadside distraction,” which is also the title of the poem.

Roadside Distraction

The way a mother moose,

bold against a frozen

ditch pond, a snowy field, a colourless sky,

stands with head tilted back,

waiting for her awkward calf

to stagger its new legs across the ice.

If I could stop to take their photo,

I would — tourist imposing on quiet nature —

but in the backseat, you sleep fever restless,

hair stuck to sweaty forehead,

red cheek pressed against the window,

trusting me — for a long time yet —

to get you somewhere comfortable

and safe.

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PAD 2022 – Day 5

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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 4

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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

  1. In your notebook, with a black pen, write three words that remind you of salvation.
  2. Say them out loud.
  3. Tear them from the book, crumple or fold the paper, and offer it to the wind.
  4. Place your hand on your chest and feel
  5. it rise, as you suck a portion of that wind deep into your lungs.
  6. Hold.
  7. Think of the taste of an orange.
  8. Your eyes are shut, but you know there is sunlight because it is not completely dark.
  9. Not even in here.
  10. Think of the first time you made someone’s face blush with playful embarrassment or
  11. lust. Remember the first time it happened to you. If the memories match, you can hold
  12. on longer to that breath. If they don’t, you can too.
  13. Think of the sound of a closing door.
  14. Count backward from four as you release what you’re holding.
  15. The whisper over your lips is the poem.

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PAD 2022 – Day 3

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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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PAD 2022 – Day 2

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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.

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PAD 2022 – Day 1

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For this year’s poem-a-day challenge, I’m following the 30/30 prompts and writing with my local poetry group, Stroll of Poets.

Today’s prompt comes from Robert Hass’s prose poem, “A Story About the Body.” The idea is to write your own prose poem that, whatever title you choose to give it, is a story about the body. The poem should contain an encounter between two people, some spoken language, and at least one crisp visual image.

I write a lot of prose poetry, so I was excited about this prompt, and it came out rather quickly compared to some poems. I’ve tentatively titled it “It Doesn’t Even Sting” and my one line to share is:

Later, at home, when you’re peeling potatoes for supper, their skins sliding off in elegant curls, falling on your cutting board, you’ll think of the spot again.

It’s almost Poetry Month!

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Hooray, hooray, it’s the first of…April. Well, in a few hours. I think this is the sixth year I’ve decided to try to write a poem a day for National Poetry Month. However, it’s also one of the busiest Aprils I’ve ever experienced, so the goal to do this and polish (sorta) and post is probably too lofty. I hope to still write something from daily prompts, and will try to post at least a line from the daily work-in-progress as a way to keep myself on track.

What other poem-y things am I up to this month?

From April 22-24, I’ll be taking part in CV2’s 2-Day Poem Contest again. Always SO MUCH fun. If you’re up for it, you can find out more and register here.

The Edmonton Poetry Festival is back, and I am thrilled to be part of the Board this year! Events will run from April 24 through May 1, and I will be hosting a climate crisis workshop and reading on April 30. I’m very excited about that! Details and registration information coming soon.

Happy reading and writing to all who do!

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PAD 2020 – Day 30

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For the final day (woohoo!) of Poetry Month, I followed the NaPoWriMo prompt asking for a poem about something that returns.

 

What Comes Back

 

Some returns require nothing  —

geese, poplar leaves, sunrise —

but our attention.

 

Other returns demand such faith:

 

phone call from a doctor

child taking their first solo bike ride

teenager late home from a party

lover gone away on business, mid-winter

cat, escaped out the door left carelessly open

 

A sense of safety,

normalcy,

oblivion to danger.

 

A feeling, warm in the chest,

that just as the grass greens,

the apple trees blossom

 

happiness will come home to its heart.

 

silhouette of flying birds

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PAD 2020 – Day 29

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Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt called for a paean to the stalwart hero of the household: your pet. I know there are people out there who write meaningful poetry about their cat, dog, or goldfish, but I am clearly not one of them. I adore my cats (Isaac, today’s poem star, and Jean-Guy, the shy guy of my house) and probably take more photos of them than I do of my kids. Yet it was difficult to put that affection into words.

 

Isaac

 

We worried

that your penchant for hissing

when you’re touched not just so,

that your sharp claws

which you refuse to have trimmed,

that your insistence on jumping

up and on anything,

that your preference for being

on a lap, no matter the welcome,

would cause lashing out of

a bruised cat-ego

once the baby arrived.

What a happy surprise

when you jumped into the crib

to nap with the newest member

of the family you believe you lead,

purrs audible over the baby monitor.

What a beautiful gift

to see you still take every chance

to cuddle next to that child,

ten years later.

 

IsaacBlanket