National Poetry Month

PAD 2017 – Day 17

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Today is Haiku Day, planted on the 17th day of National Poetry Month to note the (traditional) 17 syllables in a haiku. The Writer’s Digest prompt today called for a dancing poem, and the NaPoWriMo site suggested writing a nocturne. My micro poem today is neither haiku nor a nocturne, but maybe reminiscent of both. I did get the dancing in there.

Anniversary

 

Clear August night

dancing under the stars

by himself.

 

Because it’s Haiku Day, it seems a like a good time to mention the wonderful online journal Daily Haiku. Though the site is currently closed to submissions, the archives are a treasure trove of some of the best haiku from contributors around the world. The journal was created and edited by Edmonton poets Patrick M. Pilarski and Nicole Pakan.

PAD 2017 – Day 16

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I woke up to snow where I am this supposedly spring morning. It made me a little grumpy at first, as I’m ready for spring, but it also seemed like good inspiration for the Writer’s Digest  prompt to write a poem with the title “______ System.” I decided to try to combine it with the NaPoWriMo letter-poem prompt.

Replying to a Note From a Weather System

Dear Keeper of the Clouds,
You’ve been busy this morning.
Busy making rain and snow,
reminding us that as much
as we wish for change — a slow
smile of green taking over the
trees, a peak of purple crocus
pushing through the grey dirt
— you are in charge. You set
the tone. I wonder, Keeper,
if you’re sending us a message.
Writing as clear as the crystalline
flakes falling. A raised eyebrow in
our direction. We’ve been
shirking our jobs as stewards
of this land, we know, Keeper.
We’ve been chasing more dollars
than dreams, stuck ourselves in the
dirty mud of the past, instead of
looking ahead — up, to you — to
see that we can be more, for
each other and for the earth
we share. I wonder, Dear Keeper,
if we’ll catch a whispering snowflake,
quiet our simmering voices,
and listen?

Today is also a beautiful day in Edmonton because it’s the start of the Edmonton Poetry Festival! The line-up of featured local and Canadian poets is as amazing as ever. I thought I would mark the day by linking to a great poem from current Edmonton Youth Poet Laureate Nasra Adem. Please take a minute to watch, listen and enjoy “Blush.”

PAD 2017 – Day 15

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Today marks the halfway point, and the NaPoWriMo site called for participating poets to celebrate by writing a halfway poem. I took inspiration from the Writer’s Digest prompt to write a “one time” poem, and meshed them to write a small something about gratitude.

More Than One Time

Halfway through
an average life,
I’ve spent many moments
eyeing those who have
more than I ever will,
but more than one time
I’ve looked with eyes
less green and seen
many more
who will never have
nearly as much.

 

Sometimes I’m a little envious of, but mostly impressed by, the talents of prolific poet and spoken word artist Sheri-D Wilson. As wonderful as her writing is, her performance is even better. I’ve always loved the vibe in this video for “Spinsters Hanging In Trees.”

 

 

PAD 2017 – Day 14

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Today’s Writer’s Digest prompt called for poems inspired by popular sayings. I’m feeling a little “under the weather” and couldn’t muster more than a few micros today. I think the idea of taking an old saying some place new certainly has potential for fun and interesting wordplay, on a day when I have a little more “get up and go.”

*****

tug of war

the news pulls

my heartstrings

*****

Mom’s recipes

everything’s easier

than pie

*****

air grows thin

with time

on cloud nine

*****

editing the poem

I become a woman

of few(er) words

I’ve admired the writing of Alberta poet, and former Edmonton Poet Laureate, Anna Marie Sewell for a long time, but I just discovered today that she’s doing wonderful things on her website for National Poetry Month. I’ve enjoyed all her daily offerings so far, but especially her poem for April 4, which begins with the line: “it reeks a hirsute, ursine pong.” Awesome.  Check out the 30/30 2017 poems here.

PAD 2017 – Day 13

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The NaPoWriMo prompt today asked for a ghazal. I’ve never written one before, though I’ve enjoyed reading many. Sometimes I find repetition in forms off-putting, but that’s not usually the case when I read ghazals. I used the Writer’s Digest family prompt to give me my subject, and kind of free wrote from that. This seems so far from done, but I do think (hope) it will be something I come back to.

 

Ghazal: Sister Memory

 

Take me there again, with a nose full of home memory,

puff of lemon dish soap, cigarette smoke haze in my memory.

 

Each of us carries one, sometimes many, clenched in our fist,

moulded by pressure, the certain shape of our memory.

 

My sister recalls an action scene, shot wide in CinemaScope,

a drama I can’t recall, or one I’ve scrubbed from my memory.

 

Another moment, snipping wild baby’s breath from a roadside,

holding bouquets too big for our hands, sun bleached memory.

 

One we both need, smudged like a fingerprint, we try to recover with dust.

Using our own sharpened pencils to colour the edges of the memory.

 

I tend to write a lot of family poems. Awhile ago I had the extreme pleasure of receiving feedback on some of my writing from Red Deer poet and author Kimmy Beach. I showed her a poem about my Mom, with towels being a sort of symbol for comfort. She said it reminded her of a poem she’d written for a friend, called “Most Trusted Remedy.” The emotion in it is just beautiful, without being too familiar or sentimental. I love this poem.

PAD 2017 – Day 12

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Guilt is the theme of the Writer’s Digest prompt today. As bad as it feels sometimes, guilt is also one of the most wonderful of emotions in its ability to help us be loving, kind people. It’s a regulator of the heart and the head, which is maybe why my micro poems today all used “heart”, though I didn’t set out for that to happen. Did a bit of combining with the NaPoWriMo prompt to use alliteration and assonance too, though not as overtly as I sometimes do.

Guilt

1.

heavy heart

keeps heavy eyelids

wide open

 

2.

gulped down

then bubbling up

like heartburn

 

3.

pacifist heart

patters with pleasure

when the tyrant takes one

to the face

 

4.

sharing the burden

the heart

the mind

 

Jenna Butler is one of my favourite Alberta writers. I was fortunate enough to take a workshop with her last fall, and was amazed at how she seems to speak in poetry, even when she’s just telling a story.  There is some effortless alliteration in her short, stunning poem “This Rain.”

PAD 2017 – Day 11

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Oh, sonnets. I really do love a good one, both classic and modern.  And I really, really can’t write one. But no better time than the poem-a-day challenge to try new things. Here’s my treacle-filled (kids will do that to you) take on today’s Writer’s Digest prompt to compose a sonnet:

 

To Our Girl

 

You arrived on a sunlit summer day

Lilac morning, soft after howling night.

Round eyes alert, learning how to convey

the bliss of being, the journey to light.

How soon we knew you, felt our hearts entwine.

Yet the fear took hold, snaked under our skin,

the burrowing worry passed through blood lines.

How we learned to nurture, let you begin.

The temptation to cling, to hold you tight

but you leap into a world uncharted.

Each time you return, touched by delight,

imagination sparked, independence started.

Seven years of wonder, watching you grow.

All we’ve discovered, so much yet to know.

 

Sometimes a sonnet by name is no sonnet at all, yet tries to be more. I’m posting this, “Sonnet #1” which is really not the best thing famed Alberta poet Robert Kroetsch ever wrote. Why post something “meh” by a man who wrote so many wonderful things? Because it makes me feel better to know that great writers still produce bad writing from time to time. And I still think it’s fun poem.

 

 

PAD 2017 – Day 10

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Travel was the theme of the Writer’s Digest prompt today. I clicked on that just after reading about another airline debacle, and another instance of physical force being used before reason or communication. I watched the video of a man being dragged from a flight, and listened to the outrage by some of the passengers. Yet, like people often do in these situations — like I would probably do in this kind of situation — people mostly sat by and watched. Interesting how we as humans are sometimes aggressive when we should be calm, and passive when we should take action.

Fly the Friendly Skies

 

Origins come up on planes.

Where are you from?

Are you flying home?

Stories offered, across

an armrest or an aisle.

A three-hour community,

at least for this leg.

The way we all lick pretzel salt

from our fingers, smile politely

at young parents wearing

twins on their bellies,

take our eyes off our books,

iPads or phones when the attendant

stands to talk about oxygen.

We breathe this air together,

recycled and flowing .

We stay sitting together,

when one of us is picked.

Dragged off before take-off.

 

The Alberta poem I thought of today manages to put a smart, political spin on the thrill of traveling to a place you’ve always dreamed of visiting. Check out Edmonton writer Ben Freeland’s “New Orleans is Clawing at My Bones.”

PAD 2017 – Day 9

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Can’t believe it’s already the ninth day of National Poetry Month. NaPoWriMo central suggested a 9-line poem for today, and I took that suggestion, but not the added challenge of writing in a particular form or rhyme scheme. I also combined it with the Writer’s Digest prompt to start a poem with “So”.  There is much talk where I live about the devastating wildfire that ravaged Fort McMurray last year, so that’s what inspired this poem.

 

So This Is What’s Left

 

There are still magpies, warbling in the morning.

Along the river trail, mayflies speckle a bench.

Vagabond black bears rove the empty streets.

Crooked line of pines untouched

at the western edge of the city.

Haze has released its hold on the sky.

On this block, the Gallagher’s birch tree,

scorched but standing. The highest point.

In spring, yellow tulips will peek through the rubble.

 

Some poets, like Edmonton’s Lisa Martin, have an astounding ability to bring beauty to themes of loss and suffering.  Listen to her read “On Being In Love” from her latest book Believing is Not the Same as Being Saved, and read the great article and interview below.

PAD 2017 – Day 8

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Panic is the prompt of the day over at Writer’s Digest, and I’m feeling it a little now, as I’ve bit off more poetic pie than I can chew this weekend. I’m committed to these daily prompts, but also signed up for CV2 Magazine’s 2-Day poem contest, and a beading workshop this afternoon, and have to get my kids to dance and sportball too, then have to work tonight. How many hours do I think there are in a day? But sometimes the pressure, and even the panic, are what I need to get moving. I decided to mix the panic prompt with NaPoWriMo’s call for a poem with repetition, so here it goes:

The Big Fall

 

It spreads faster than lice in a preschool,

soon we’re  trembling, sweating,

holding our hands to our chests

to slow the galloping hearts.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, relax, relax.

But it’s not as simple as that

when we’re stuck in fight, flight or freeze,

that feeling in our lungs,

like we forgot how to breathe.

Don’t panic, don’t panic, relax, relax.

Is the room on a tilt? Whipping round

like a top, can we make it stop? Ask

to get off? If we hold hands will it slow,

bring the blood back? Halt the attack?

Don’t panic, don’t panic, relax, relax.

Is this really it? The poets, they’re liars,

crazy romantics, but I need you to kiss me,

‘cuz if we’re both going mad, loopy

and falling, we’ve gotta go together.

 

Maybe falling in love isn’t the usual kind of panic, but I think many of the symptoms are the same. I’m also not sure if today’s Alberta poem is a love poem, but I see that when I look at it. Check out  the beautiful “For Kristen” by Calgary visual poet derek beaulieu.