Tag Archives: free verse

Future Self – NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 11


“Tell me where would you like to be five years from now?”

It’s a standard question posed
at interviews and seminars, one
that swallows me whole into
glaring sheets of paper, pen at
the ready, its ball head scratching
out the reality of my aspiration-less
existence in congealed blue-black
ink blots, truth on display, empty,
thoughtless nothingness.

All I know for certain is
now, perhaps I am
jaded, hesitant,
to scribble pipe dreams on
a page that history has proved,
my history, that plans mean
nothing, because change has
the upper hand; the fates and
karma and this, “The best laid
plans…” you know. I am a
mouse, black eyes bulging,
nibbling nervously on
scrap, relieved to be
breathing. Don’t ask me to
consult my future self. I am
much too busy surviving
the moment.

~kat

For NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 11 Prompt: a poem that addresses the future, answering the questions “What does y(our) future provide? What is your future state of mind? If you are a citizen of the “union” that is your body, what is your future “state of the union” address?” (Photo by Alexas_Fotos at Pixabay.com)


thinking out loud – NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 6

when
is
a
poem
not
a
poem?
does it need to
rhyme
every time?

or must a poem, at the very least, contain iambic feet, syllabic certainty and stanzas
to
be
a
poem?

What about CAPITALS and pun,c;t!u-a….t.i.o.n?
do
they
matter
after all
if
the words
don’t stir
the soul?

while i may not know what makes a proper, perfect poem, i do know what makes me cringe to write or read…
to pen a poem that tells a tale, or pricks the heart, or makes one think is what i strive for…why i bleed.

~kat

NaPoWriMo2018 Day 6 presented us with the challenge to “write a poem that stretches your comfort zone with line breaks”.  My poem for today pushes my aesthetic buttons in several ways. If the goal of the challenge was to make me cringe as I plunked one word lines on the screen and dared to suggest that my minimalistic approach is poetry…then this exercise was a complete success. I do hope it does not pain you to read it.  😉

img_1191-1


If You Need To Ask

if you need to ask what freedom is

you’re not

drape yourself in stars and stripes

do whatever you feel like

hate the man, yeah! go on strike

if you need to ask…

count your pennies, buy more stock

build great walls, install more locks

it only matters who’s on top

what freedom is…

could declare your independence

time is wasted being decent

cash your chips before they’re spent

if you need to ask…

claim your rights, take up your arms

speak your mind, raise false alarms

before the others do you harm

you’re not…

grab what’s yours while you still can

change the rules and take command

always have the upper hand

if you need to ask what freedom is

you’re not

~kat

Had been tweaking this in response to call for poems about freedom. It was too long for the call, but I’m going with it just the same. My blog space will do just fine. 😊


Depression Moved In – NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 4

Depression Moved In

he’s come to stay
slipped through the cracks
of a drafty door
settling, like the dust collecting
leaving traces
stacks of dishes
crusted with rot
window shades drawn, but for light
piercing the gray
warming the cat
dull-bladed daggers
razor streaks slashing through grime
dripping water
leaky faucet
tv set to mute
white static strobing, tick tock
trays of ashes
twisted faggots
blobs of wax, melted
charred wicks long spent from burning
unopened mail
crumpled wrappers
half-finished crosswords
stench of bleeding ink and sweat
dreary pallette
laundry piled
blackness on blackness
layers of rags, dark as night
heavy-boned, dead
to the world
nothing to see here
just lock the door when you leave

~kat

My response for NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 4. Prompt: write a poem that is about something abstract – perhaps an ideal like “beauty” or “justice,” but which discusses or describes that abstraction in the form of relentlessly concrete nouns. (adjectives are okay too). 

img_1191-1


Old School

I remember thrilling over
black and white marbled
composition notebooks and
fresh boxes of peacock blue
ink cartridges for my fountain
pen…it was a time when only
sheets of pressed parchment
were acceptable mediums for
my finished masterpieces…
dropped into plastic protective
sleeves, collated into 3-ring
binders, eventually boxed away
in the attic or the basement
to collect dust while waiting
to be rediscovered, words
spilled out, so easily tucked
away until the next sequence
of adjectives and verbs
dribbled onto blank pages,
beautiful scribbles, cross
outs and bleeding  blots of
ink collecting in the creases….
I remember those days,
it was not so long ago, but
now there are no sloppy
folded sheets of words
to remind me of the process,
now there is backspace,
delete and
save

~kat