i’m not honest, not one bit she is a wall at the forest’s edge it’s zaniness, that’s what it is i am not a fan of flying devoured by madness because what matters most beyond conclusion from dark dawn to dark dusk turned into months into years down, down, downsized floor to ceiling windows the sweet scent of buttercups my heart swelling, splintering did you know? I write poetry by fireflies in pickle jars she fancies herself organized bitter, and smooth to the tongue
NaPoWriMo 2023 Challenge Day Thirty: Off prompt. Rather than writing a palinode – a poem in which you retract a view or sentiment expressed in an earlier poem, I decided to extract a line from several previous poems as a finale to this year’s daily challenge. Doing a ReVerse Poem* has always been my way to sum things up at the end of the day. Sometimes the combination of lines make sense…and sometimes, not so much. But it does give me a snapshot into each previous day’s endeavor. So, there you have it! Another NaPoWriMo in the bag. Until next year…😊
A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time.
The seduction begins with an orgy of chocolate cake mix, devil’s food, because, well… given his titular title he has a reputation to defend. Add a ménage a trois of eggs, and wetness, water, if you will, and a fair amount of lubricant, cooking oil, to the connoisseur, to meld the mix into a smooth batter.
He prefers a preheated oven to do his rising, filling the entire room with the aroma of his decadence, foreplay to what comes next after about thirty minutes or so.
While still warm from the oven, with a wooden skewer, or fork, poke holes in the cake, reservoirs to be filled with a slathering of sweetened condensed milk…
“Oh, but I’m not finished with you yet!” he teases playfully, inviting me add a smooth layer of caramel sauce and another of sweet whipped cream, with a sprinkling of crushed chocolate toffee candy…”yes please! chocolate on chocolate…oooh, yes, yes! Please don’t stop…here, and there, and oh…there…” a drizzling of caramel syrup brings this all to a climactic finish!
“Ooh la la, Mr. Better Than Sex Cake, I am breathless, you’ve outdone yourself! My tender tastebuds are tingling! I think I need…a tall glass of milk!”
A Note to the Avid Gourmet: There are a few variations to this recipe that include ingredients such as vanilla cake mix and pineapple…but in my humble opinion, vanilla is well, vanilla and pineapple is too sweet. I like my cake dark, decadent, slightly bitter, and smooth to the tongue.
NaPoWriMo 2023 Challenge Day Twenty-Nine: write your own two-part poem that focuses on a food or type of meal. At some point in the poem, describe the food or meal as if it were a specific kind of person. Give the food/meal at least one line of spoken dialogue.
she alphabetizes the books in her small library nook by title and category, and if it applies, by author as well with some shelves dedicated to vinyl records, cds and dvd / blu ray films, also sorted accordingly; for good measure, cataloged electronically on spreadsheets that she keeps on her phone, a ready reference just in case, you never know… you know? with so much time and energy devoted to caring for her collections she barely has time to enjoy their contents, to peruse her beautiful book pages, or listen to a favorite tune, or sit long enough to catch a flick, start to finish, without interruption or distraction…still, she fancies herself organized to a tee, because being so feels safe and settled; helps erase the chaos ping-ponging in her scattered brain; things in their place keeps her sane or at least implies as much; a secret, her secret, hidden to those who only judge books by their covers, where eccentricity is a gentler reality to madness
NaPoWriMo 2023 Challenge Day Twenty-Eight: write your own index poem. You could start with found language from an actual index, or you could invent an index, somewhat in the style of this poem by Kell Connor.
memories of my feral youth flash like jiffy pop in my head at the sight of buttercups in bloom what wild little beasts we were slamming the screen door on our way to never land at dawn small change in our pockets to spend on penny candy, the streetlights striking midnight at dusk when all good brats scurried back home before turning into pumpkins, days in the sunshine with dandelion stem curls in our hair, the gritty satisfying taste of mud, fashioning queen Anne’s lace into bouquets, collecting fossil rocks, garden snakes in coffee tins, and pop bottles to earn enough money, 50 cents, for a Saturday matinee fearless, it’s a wonder any of us survived considering how cautiously we rear our progeny in 21st century bubbles…once upon a lifetime ago monsters hid under our beds or in the closet never dared to stalk us in daylight… simpler times then, nights illuminated by fireflies in pickle jars buttercups glowing under our chins to prove we liked butter ringing round rosies like whirligigs on a breeze, down, down…to ashes
NaPoWriMo 2023 Challenge Day Twenty/Seven: write your own poem titled “The ________ of ________,” where the first blank is a very particular kind of plant or animal, and the second blank is an abstract noun. The poem should contain at least one simile that plays on double meanings or otherwise doesn’t quite make “sense,” and describe things or beings from very different times or places as co-existing in the same space.
it’s biology. blood and spit transport the slurry of DNA that determines what i am to the world, pale, easily sunburned skin, big arms and hands, small breasts, and breeder’s hips…that’s what my dad called them…I made good use of them too, squeezing out several healthy babies in my day…and an aversion to cilantro DNA…now when I look in the mirror my eyes look the same as in my youth, blue, with the same dashes of gray, gray like the random strands that pepper, or is that salt, my blond thinning curls, my body softening, i’m older now, and wiser, I think wisdom, while hard-earned is wasted on the old… one look at me and you might decide you know everything you need to know about who I am, but I am not my DNA, my soul begs to differ…confuse what with who and you will completely miss the who standing in front of you like a book, it is only when you flip through the pages… give it a try…you’ll see… did you know? I write poetry
NaPoWriMo 2023 Challenge Day 26: write a portrait poem that focuses on or plays with the meaning of the subject’s name. This could be a self-portrait, a portrait of a family member or close friend, or even a portrait of a famous or historical person.
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