always wanted to retire on an island, not exactly what i had in mind but gotta give it to this place, if disappearing is the goal, it fits the bill, it’s a bit crowded and noisy, but the city gave me my own four walls, a fine pine box actually, kinda’ reminds me of my first apartment, damn, but we were cramped in that place, walls thin as paper, no room to move, the family packed in like sardines, like this place where they stack us three deep...some of the locals say this place has been around for 150 years, there’s folks here from 1918, the Spanish Flu, from that Aids Crisis, and Yellow Fever, this place has some history, more than a million souls rest here they say and now me, plopped here like a time capsule from 2020, from COVID-19, whose time ran out, a day past two weeks sprung from the morgue to make room for more folks with no one to claim ‘em, not that i don’t have nobody, my people, they live out of state, and i didn’t tell ‘em i was sick, didn’t want to worry ‘em, you know humph, wonder how long it will take ‘em to miss me, maybe they’ll find me, maybe not, doesn’t matter much now, peace out as they say and hey, wear a mask
~kat
For NaPoWriMo2021 Day 8 Prompt: Today, I’d like to challenge you to read a few of the poems from Spoon River Anthology, and then write your own poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone who is dead. My subject is inspired by the Potter’s Field on Harts Island in NYC, now being used to bury the unclaimed victims of COVID-19. Read this NY Times article.
do tell you seem to know all, everything and more only your way is right, i know
but consider if you will, other ideas opinions you may learn something or not...i forgot
your mind’s not open for business is it that you fear being wrong or that i’m right
~kat
For today’s NaPoWriMo2021 Day 7 Challenge: pick from – the shadorma, and the Fib, a combo starting with a Fib followed by the Shadorma and ending with a Reverse Fib.
The shadorma is a six-line, 26-syllable poem (or a stanza – you can write a poem that is made of multiple shadorma stanzas). The syllable count by line is 3/5/3/3/7/5
The Fib is a six-line form. But now, the syllable count is based off the Fibonacci sequence of 1/1/2/3/5/8. You can link multiple Fibs together into a multi-stanza poem, or even start going backwards after your first six lines, with syllable counts of 8/5/3/2/1/1.
soft as a whisper, her sweet perfume lingering in the air, tosses wisps of my hair, like a comet, bright, breathtaking, for a brief moment as she flits by, i tilt my head to catch the sound of her laugh, avert my eyes when she glances my way, she’ll never know how my heart flutters when she is near... it’s for the best, i tell myself, i’m not her type anyway
Go to a book you love. Find a short line that strikes you. Make that line the title of your poem. Write a poem inspired by the line. Then, after you’ve finished, change the title completely.
You may notice the resulting poem is nothing at all like the book or the inspiring line. That is the beautiful irony of taking words or statements out of context, don’t you think?! 😉
The book I chose, one of my all-time favorites…
Old Turtle Text by Douglas Wood Watercolors by Chen’s-Khee Chee and the text: “sometimes i feel her breath as she blows by”
they never returned, even with faces masked, big screens, media rooms and sound bars had saved them from having to cram themselves into uncomfortable seats, elbow to elbow with strangers, potentially dangerous, infested with deadly viruses or worse, brandishing assault rifles, the noisy demons in their heads begging to be slaughtered in the bloodletting of innocents...no, they weren’t going back. renovations could not disinfect the crazy, protect them from the madness, for they had grown comfortable in their shelters, unwilling to risk contact with deplorables, cult crazed zombies, veins boiling with infection and hate... it’s been years now, since these doors were shuttered, renovations teased on a tattered marquee, the people had long grown weary of promises, promises impossible to keep
~kat
NaPoWriMo2021 - Day 4 Challenge: Select a photograph from the perpetually disconcerting @SpaceLiminalBot, and write a poem inspired by one of these odd, in-transition spaces.
on the forest floor lies the shell of an old tree stubbly roots exposed, its core now heartless, empty grist for grubs, in death humility
~kat
For NaPoWriMo 2021 - Day 3...Off topic, but I promise to work on my personal deck. It seems like a worthwhile project to inspire future poetry. For today...a Horatiodet (my own short version of the Horatian Ode...a Form i came up with when i was doing daily micropoetry.) A Horatiodet is a total of 5 lines, syllable count: 5-7-7-5-9 / rhyme scheme: ababb. In other words, it is a short Horatian Ode (only one stanza), a form based on the style of Horace, Quintus Horatius Flaccus (December 8, 65 BC – November 27, 8 BC), the leading Roman lyric poet.
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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like mercury colliding... 