bare tree limb tips dipped in green, white and lavender sunlight lingering into the evening, peepers peeping at dusk, worms slithering from the damp dark, bees, butterflies, spiders and ants, buzz, flit and creep, a hint of wet clay, fading leaves and first blooms in the mist and this, the first hummingbird sighting at the nectar jars outside my window it’s official...spring is finally here
~kat
NaPoWriMo2021 - Day 13 Prompt: This one is short and sweet: write a poem in the form of a news article you wish would come out tomorrow.
i don’t remember when the world turned blue maybe it was when the post-it notes on the ‘frig lost their power to inspire me or perhaps it was when i stopped listening to the nameless portraits on the wall... aren’t they just voices in my own head after all, me trying to preserve my sanity is like using crazy glue to stop a dam from bursting i lost control of everything that late spring into summer into... the seasons are all a blur here behind closed doors, no hope left inside locked, the key tossed into the starry night, into the beautiful purple haze, that faded to grey, the darkness in my soul changing hue, to blue it’s all coming back to me now like loose change in my pocket i realize it’s the little things, things that i can’t forget
~kat
NaPoWriMo2021 - Day 10 Prompt: First, find a song with which you are familiar – it could be a favorite song of yours, or one that just evokes memories of your past. Listen to the song and take notes as you do, without overthinking it or worrying about your notes making sense. * Next, rifle through the objects in your junk drawer – or wherever you keep loose odds and ends that don’t have a place otherwise. (Mine contains picture-hanging wire, stamps, rubber bands, and two unfinished wooden spoons I started whittling four years ago after taking a spoon-making class). On a separate page from your song-notes page, write about the objects in the drawer, for as long as you care to. * Now, bring your two pages of notes together and write a poem that weaves together your ideas and observations from both pages.
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.
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”
literally anyone... what is it about bananas and why are they so special
oh i can list a few reasons how do i love thee, fair banana...
almost ripe, firm, smooth on the tongue, a tinge of green, bittersweet
in smoothies, puddings and in muffins and cakes and
quick breads (warm from the oven, sliced thick, slathered with fresh butter) too, long, lean, and luscious, perfect
to eat raw, sliced or mashed, to take along anywhere
already wrapped, delightful to peel such a fine fruit...the banana
who wouldn’t love them
~kat ———————- For NaPoWriMo2021 Challenge - Day 5: Find a poem, and then write a new poem that has the shape of the original, and in which every line starts with the first letter of the corresponding line in the original poem. I chose Rita Dove’s poem, “Flirtation” (see below).
Flirtation BY RITA DOVE After all, there’s no need to say anything
at first. An orange, peeled and quartered, flares
like a tulip on a wedgewood plate Anything can happen.
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!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kat Myrman and Like Mercury Colliding with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
