Tuesday, April 3, 2018

NaPoWrimo - National Poetry Writing Month

I ran into Sara Hirsch last night at Poetry in Motion's April edition (April 3rd), which was a real joy, since I didn't know she was coming and didn't know she was yet in NZ.

I asked her about her writing and she said that she's doing NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month), which I'd never heard of. I did NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) for years, and this is where the blog title came from. Google gave me this, which is just someone's blog. Still, lots of good info.

Simple rules - write a poem per day. There is no requirement for showing it to anyone, or anything like that, and no one ever has to see it ever, but you have your own satisfaction of creating something every day for a month.

I did this previously with a haiku a day  (2013, July Haiku Challenge started here) , which extended for 3 months. I don't know why I stopped.

I'm a little behind, since it's supposed to be a poem a day and here we are on April 4th, but, as it turns out, Ken Arkind shared a haiku on facebook and I wrote several in response, so am basically caught up. Haha..

Haiku responses
are just the best responses.
Limericks are cool too.

 - not happy about putting a "just" in there. I would prefer to leave filler words out if possible. I'll  have to re-work. Not that it's needed, but it irks me.

Ken then suggested that we do a haiku show, which I am completely keen for. My response:

The show should proceed.
I'm agreeing with you Ken.
But in haiku form.

Several lovely people posted great haikus, and I responded with:

I approve haikus.
These ones are some of the best.
I'm inadequate.

Now, I need another for today. This is not a haiku a day, it's a poem a day. It just so happened that I did haikus for now. Today's piece. Based on something I wrote earlier:

When she was a little girl, Earth already had white hair
She put on her bare toes
And danced across every mountain range
Shuffled across every valley
Through ever riverbed, seashore and sandy beach
Splashed in all the waterfalls
Got muddy in river deltas
Cleaned off in thunderstorms and lashing rain
Kicked over glaciers and set icebergs afloat
Basques in the clean, clean air
Of the ocean breezes

Now, her hands wear gloves
Made of rainforest leaves, jungle vines
and and redwood bark.

She breaths in with the rising tide
And out with the gathering clouds
Her belly button fuzz is old-growth forest
Her cold flashes are Antarctic ice
Hot flashes - death valley and the Sahara

She's a little concerned about
The strange growth that's started spreading
It itches in New York, London and Mexico City
Delhi, Shanghai and Tokyo itch something fierce too
It will go away soon she thinks
Maybe another 20,000 or 30,000 years tops
And then she can relax


Monday, June 8, 2015

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Poem: The Love of a Woman

The Love of a Woman

In the words of a great man, 
my father and Lord of the Eastern Marches, 
the love of a woman is the greatest thing
after that, all other things are a distant concern.

While I have never doubted this before, 
I admit a hesitation at the moment. 
It is a great concern here, in my bedroom as I have just awoken.
My eyes blink in the semi-darkness of dawn
But the knife to my throat brings me to full consciousness
She is here to kill me, but I can't help but love her.

She is wrapped in black silk, 
traditional garb of the Ismali assassins. 
Only her eyes are visible and what eyes they are! 
They are obsidian, black pupils on black irises. 
And the fierceness! Oh... it is like a tiger watching its prey.

I don't know what I have done to deserve that look, 
I knew, I would do it again every day of the rest of my life.
I imagine our life together and meeting her family. 
I wonder which parent has her eyes. 
I hope it is her mother, for two angels are better than one. 
I KNOW I will get along with her parents. 
I will make every effort.

If the assassin’s client pays extra,
To taunt and torment the victim, 
In the most blatant show of contempt 
the assassin remove their mask 
before striking the killing blow. 
A slow ritual, the assassin removes their mask 
as they hold the knife to your throat. 
I wait in anticipation, 
so hoping that the client has paid the maximum sum.
The fee is exorbitant. I have paid it before

Yes, my heart hammers heavily and I see 
she begins to unwind the silk strip, slowly, 
With utmost precision and control, anticlockwise, 
I always remain in sight. 
It comes away revealing what is sure to be a glorious face.


No... she's not really my type.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Friday, December 6, 2013

daily haiku, Nov 5th and 6th

my brain is sludge
but writing takes
the sludge away

I yearn for touch
for fingers on skin
both mine and hers

NOTE: I have a huge urge to count syllables, even if I know haiku isn't about that... the thing is, when I finish a haiku and it's not 5-7-5, I feel like I can never use it in a haiku death match. So, I re-worded these two to 5-7-5

the fog in my brain
is cleared away with a bit
of writing magic

I yearn for fingers
on long stretches of smooth skin
my fingers and hers




Wednesday, December 4, 2013

"daily haiku" - Nov 2nd, 3rd, 4th

Started a new job on Monday, so have missed the haikus since then - it's been busy and tiring... Still, I want one per day, so will do that:

dear support phone role,
I don't want you any more,
sincerely, Travis

every first Wednesday
it's poetry in motion.
Spoken word, bitches!

Rap battles are great
mate, it's the bait and switch, the
letters on slate, word!

And since I missed out on a few, I'll add another one:

poetry collects
inside window and door frames
like empty spaces

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Daily haiku, December 1st

pick a great comic
read it from the beginning
SMBC rocks!

bonus:
new job tomorrow
I start far too early. I'm
a 9AM guy.