Choose a Line, Any Line

Today’s prompt, of the penultimate day of this April challenge, was to choose a line from a previous poem and use it as the title of today’s work. The line I chose was from Day 17, Poets Express, and chose the line, “reapply for our poetic license. I put the poem in the form of a pair of Shadormas just for fun.

Reapply For (Y)our Poetic License

The only
real requirements
are time and
awareness,
a desire to juggle words
and some elbow grease.

Just breathe deep
and make up your mind.
Try to write,
every day.
Dig deep. Try being honest.
Then the words are yours.

Express

This prompt took some time. I finally had to just apply myself and begin typing words to make the ideas gel. But we are more than halfway through poetry month!

The prompt was to write an express poem. ^_^ Here goes:

Poets Express

The World English Dictionary says
that when one expresses something,
one transforms (ideas) into words.

That is the best way of saying
just what it is we do
when we express ourselves
in poetry.

In April, when we challenge
ourselves, reapply for our
poetic licence,
and inundate our blogs
with self-expression,
wracking our brains for
just
the
right
words
we reaffirm our love
for those words and
their myriad meanings
embrace.

And via this information superhighway,
this expressway of expression,
we poets express our innermost
thoughts
dreams
ideas
memories
and cryptic ramblings
to the world;
that is when we
arrive on the fast train,
the Poets’ Express.

Baby

Today’s prompt was to write a “baby” poem. I found this little Triolet wafting around my brain.

***

Baby

Back in the days when I thought I’d
always be your baby. “Don’t leave
so soon,” I so naively cried.
I never thought you’d make me grieve
back in the days when I thought I’d
always be your charming child bride.
How did you learn not to believe?
Back in the days when I thought I’d
always be yours. Baby, don’t leave.

Knocking Wood

The prompt for today’s poetry challenge was to write a Knocking Wood poem. It is a superstition, in case you didn’t know, that is supposed to prevent ill fortune. I have seen otherwise reasonable people make certain of their luck by knocking wood surreptitiously. ^_^

I did this in the Pantoum form, just for fun.

***

Knock Wood

Fire, plague or for common good
or to prevent some calamity,
and amend our misfortune, knocking wood
will help to preserve our sanity.

In the event of calamity
there’s only one thing we can do
that helps to preserve our sanity,
touch or knock wood (or bamboo).

It is true, the one thing we can do
if we do not want a catastrophe
touch or knock wood (or bamboo)
to stall pain or sorrow or bankruptcy.

We don’t want some kind of catastrophe
fire, plague or something not good.
So stop pain or sorrow or bankruptcy;
to amend all misfortune: knock wood.

Descent

The prompt was to write about something descending—though there is no way to post at the moment because the site seems to have sunk the comment section—my offering is here. It is about addiction and (possible) recovery.

***

Descent

the way is slippery
at times
and salty
with tears and other
less savory fluids
(snot, blood, shame)
and even through
the sound of my own
h
o
w
l
of anguish
i remain determined
on my
course
blindly
ignore
all
warnings

and when i reach
r o c k b o t t o m
and there is no
further
to go
is when
h e a l i n g
may
begin.

Forever

The prompt today was to write about forever. Coincidentally, I learned about the state of zazen today. The two ideas seemed a good match to me.  ^_^

Forever I

In a moment of zazen

I contemplate the universe.
From myself, seated and silent,
my soul soars upward,
my mind’s eye sees me,
in my house,
in my neighborhood
surrounded by others like me
and by other lives; flowers, trees
dogs, cats, birds.

And outward from there,
I hover over the desert,
and above that I soar,
mountains, plains,
further and further, until the landscape
melts
into a sea of green, brown, gold
white capped mountains
stormy seas,
the continents below me
and above, endless sky.

Wars battling below,
One side victorious,
destroying the others,
carrying them away.

And further I rise
until the marble of earth
lies below, the glimmering
moon along-side.
Sun, planets moons,
and beyond the solar system,
galaxies.

Who knows what lies without?

The universe awaits.

Forever II

In a moment of zazen

I contemplate the universe
from myself, seated and silent
my soul soars inward.

My mind’s eye sees me,
and inside me, the organs
and bones and muscles
that make me tick,
that give me life.

And then I explore the blood,
the fluids, lymphatic fluids
tears, sweat, spinal fluid,
the way they
interact, interrelate,
feed and nurture each other
and me.

Wars, battling inside me,
white blood cells
attacking invaders,
other cells carrying off
broken waste.

And deeper still,
my cells,
each with a purpose
and a plan, lent by DNA’s
double-helix
spiraling in and down,
mitochondria,
and the cells’ nucleus
atoms
smaller still,
nutrinos.

Who knows what lies within?

The universe awaits.

Fragile

Write about something Fragile, was the prompt, and, as usual, the first thing that popped into my head was the thing that I wrote about. An incident at Myrtle beach last summer.

***

Life

Perhaps mischance
brought you to this
wet
and sandy
snare
or perhaps
some person’s dread
swatted you
into the briny
foam,
soaking your wings
with salt water
and
leaving you to
struggle,
each lapping wave
leaving
you weaker.

Nevertheless,
I cannot help
but try to save
even so
tiny
a
life
as
yours,
bee.

 

Mete Your Measure

Today’s prompt was to write a measured poem – either using the word measure, the idea of measure or using a certain measure (or meter) to your poem.

I went the way of all good musicians and wrote puns. I ask your forgiveness in advance, but it was way too fun not to do it. ^_^

Mete your Measure

I’ve been in and out of
treble
since I was a
minor.

Too much sax and violins,
no doubt.

Let me take a minuet
to explain my
tone.

I’m a musician
and a music
appreciator;
I’m no lyre,
and I try not to
say anything off-key.
I really don’t want to
repeat
myself…
but here goes.

I will make my pitch
with no trumpeting of intentions or
snares to entangle.

I just believe,
with all my harp,
the importance of working
in concert,
and if anything
cymbalizes
my need to be vocal,
it is the fact that I always try
to reach a high note,
guitar act together,
and stay in tune
with what is going on.

Maybe I should just
give this a rest,
if you can’t Handel it, that is.
But then again,
if it ain’t baroque,
don’t fifth it.

 

Resolved

The poetry prompt today was to write about resolution in some way. In my instance, we had a problem resolved; our cat, Suzie, went missing around Christmas.

I have my theories on what happened to her and where she went. Below, find my Roundel on the subject. ^_^

I just wonder where my cat went.
We found she was gone at meal-time.
(To her to miss meals was a crime
yet, we missed her hungry lament.)

No hair we found, or sign or scent.
We called and searched the alley grime.
We found she was gone at meal-time.
I just wonder where my cat went.

Back home after eight days, nose rent
and scarred, hungry, fur-begrimed,
No sign of where she’d spent her dime.
To Narnia? To Time-Lord lent?
I just wonder where my cat went.

Tardis

Play List – November PaD, day 21

My silly, sleepy muse escaped me all day. I read the prompt early—to write a poem using the titles of five songs—and I was literally blank until just now, flossing my teeth and getting ready for bed. Silly, but the ideas started to flow, and instead of sleeping, I am writing.

This is the direction my absent-until-now muse led:

Ringo, John, Paul, George

Traveling With the Beatles

In my life
The Beatles
have been a part of me.

From my earliest memories,
Paul, John, George and Ringo
have sung to me of places
and things
I never would have dreamed
or imagined
without them.

Before I even knew what country
I lived in, I sang along to Penny Lane,
wondering if there were pennies
there, and that’s why
it was named that.

Strawberry Fields, must be
just like the fields and yard
I played in, only with more
strawberries,
naturally.

I’ve been Across the Universe,
Back in the U.S.S.R., and
even in an Octopus’s Garden,
(probably in my Yellow Submarine)
all due to the
poetry
put to music
that they played,
a soundtrack to my
childhood.

And what a
Long and Winding Road
it has been.

Thank you, fellas.