PAD 2019 – Day 30

The final day! Woot! To anyone who’s been reading my poems, thank you. I write and post these drafts to keep myself on track, but it’s always nice to have the kind eyes of others on them too.

Today I decided to include all three of the prompt sites I’ve been using this month. A bit of a challenge since NaPoWriMo called for a micropoem. Packing more into less. That’s what poetry’s all about in many ways. So I tried to squeeze in the Poetic Asides call for a “stop” poem and the Stroll of Poets “standing in line” prompt.

 

tourist rest stop

 

cradled

by the rocky mountains

 

in the bathroom line

 

i hear “beautiful”

in six languages

 

 

PAD 2019 – Day 14

Decided to write something way different than I usually do by trying out the NaPoWriMo prompt to write a poem that incorporates homophones, homographs, and homonyms, or otherwise makes productive use of English’s ridiculously complex spelling rules and opportunities for mis-hearings and mis-readings. Tossed in a witch for good measure.

 

How to Dress For a Ball

 

“A ball!” she bawled, “I’ve never been allowed!”

“Why’ve those princes and princesses

asked this old maid now?”

She wondered aloud, “is it for naughty or nice?”

“A trick or a trap, a mistaken invite?”

Why they want her as guest is anyone’s guess,

if their kindness is a phase, meant to faze her

she will redress.

 

A witch has a role which shouldn’t be lessened,

if she agrees to go it will be to teach them a lesson.

Roll out the carpet for this crone

if you must, but do not groan when

she’s grown from a quean to a queen

in a gown and a crown.

 

She can sew so-so, but magic is best.

They’ll reap what they sow and likely say “Frack!”

when she wears her new frock, a truly bewitching dress.

To truly be seen she must make a scene,

a dye to cause dying hidden right in the seams.

“I’ll sidle up to their sides, rub the poisoned dress on their skins,”

“Too evil? ” she sighed, then wickedly grinned.

 

It had been their main game for forty-three years,

those tow-headed royals with their silky smooth manes,

to call her a toad, laugh at her green skin and beard.

They wanted her there to be the brute of the ball,

but the fate of this fête wouldn’t be up to them at all.

 

So she said a spell for her garb, made two fancy shoes too,

Looked in the mirror and nearly squawked “boo!”

A startling sight, at this site under full moon.

Who was this person, now beauty not crone?

Perhaps she’d keep this fine form

when she’d thrown them all from the throne.

NaPoWriMo – Day 23

The Poetic Asides prompt today called for an “action” poem, while NaPoWriMo.net‘s suggestion was to write a poem based in sound. I decided to do a little mixing.

Listening

 

The ear is a good reader.

She can catch things that the lazy eye

just rolls on by,

like the awkward way this line

ends.

Or how another line might wander on and on and on and on too long for a

breath.

Voice is fleeting

but timbre, tone, emphasis

the tools of poetry come alive

with the touch of a tongue.

Sing the word — musicality.

Sounds better out loud, doesn’t it?

Oral tradition

voice and verse passed down

through generations.

Since I’ll never be a rock star

howling

Yeah!

Huh!

Woo!

Come on!

from a brightly lit, stadium stage

I’ll take this small room

of kind listeners,

poets, ears perked

and hearts swaying

to linguistic melodies.