Tag Archives: Poetry

gray – NaPoWriMo #10

gray

today’s a melancholy kind of day
birds are flying low, and cows laying down,
the leaves of great oak trees are spinning ’round,

whispers a-roaring while reapers make hay,
limp locks a-drooping from curly-topped crowns,
dry seaweed grows damp beneath painted clouds

it’s a good time to be inside tucked away
winged gnats are nipping, vile creepers break ground
it’s gray and windy, for cover we’re bound

the cock’s crow last night, filled us with dismay
we knew it was coming, signs all around
now hear the rain pour, bewitched by the sound
today’s a melancholy kind of day

~kat

I found several bits of weather lore for today’s NaPoWriMo 2019 Challenge Prompt: write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon. 

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Monday Musings

a time for
everything
seasons for
every purpose
love and hate
stones to gather
history gets
muddled, its
pleasures, its
pains die in time

~kat


A Blackout/Found Poem. See the source poem below:

A Man In His Life
by Yehuda Amichai

A man doesn’t have time in his life
to have time for everything.
He doesn’t have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
Was wrong about that.

A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment,
to laugh and cry with the same eyes,
with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them,
to make love in war and war in love.
And to hate and forgive and remember and forget,
to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest
what history
takes years and years to do.

A man doesn’t have time.
When he loses he seeks, when he finds
he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves
he begins to forget.

And his soul is seasoned, his soul
is very professional.
Only his body remains forever
an amateur. It tries and it misses,
gets muddled, doesn’t learn a thing,
drunk and blind in its pleasures
and its pains.

He will die as figs die in autumn,
Shriveled and full of himself and sweet,
the leaves growing dry on the ground,
the bare branches pointing to the place
where there’s time for everything.


all i need – NaPoWriMo #7

all i need

what a luxury to give myself
permission to have a dream
without a plan, indulgence,
never was my thing, survival
has its own demands, a never
ending rut of woe where time
moves slow and years pass
fast, the things that last, they
are not things, i’ll tell you true
what moves my heart to sing,
amber turquoise skies at dawn,
lilting bird song, smiles, a gentle
touch, it really doesn’t take too
much, the simplest of all life’s
gifts, bring joy to me when days
are long, three-score and two,
i’ve lived a few and hopefully
a few to come, it is enough for
me and some, to breathe deep
and exhale slow, a moment’s
bliss, that’s all i need to know

~kat

NaPoWriMo #7 Prompt: What do you deserve? Name it. All of it. What are you ready to let go of? Name that too. Then name the most gentle gift for yourself. Name the brightest song your body’s ever held. Summon joy like you would a child; call it home. It wanders, yes. But it’s still yours. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of gifts and joy. What would you give yourself, if you could have anything? What would you give someone else?

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Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 7 April 2019

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Happy Sunday! Spring’s persistence is evident in the earthy aroma of rain-drenched sod, bulbs sprouting, birds chattering, squirrels scampering, and the subtle shift of the breeze from frigid to warm, tossing bud dappled trees. 

It’s National/Global Poetry Month. My usual micro-poetry dailies have been replaced by a variety of challenge responses. All this makes for an interesting ReVerse. Each line still represents the past week’s stream of consciousness, however with the added topical constraints imposed by the challenge. That is not to say you still can’t find me between the lines. This week, and for the rest of the month, you will get a glimpse into the me that rises to the challenge on any given day. It’s not forced. Just a different view. 

It is proof of my resilience. At least that’s what I’m claiming and clinging to. Because aside from my blog life, this past week posed a number of challenges that might have set me back had I not learned over the years to live in the moment. A close friend was hospitalized, my bank account was hacked by a cyber criminal wiping out my balance. I have spent hours on the phone with fraud units, police dispatch, venders, to clear my name, while keeping up with my friend’s ongoing serious health concerns, and narrowly averting a blown gasket in my van…and the subsequent repair that set me back several Ben Franklins (fortunately before my account was cleaned out).

Life. It goes on. I’m a survivor. I have this moment right now, writing to you on my laptop, my big slobbery mutt Maxwell cozied up next to me. It’s all good. And I have words…and more poetry to write.

Peace to you. Breathe in, breathe out. It’s moments like this…it’s moments like this…:)


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 7 April 2019

fluttering its delicate wings
from the ooze, greening,
to leave the nest, literally,
cadaverous, calm,
it evolved after humankind died
I could never bring myself to say it
every day is blurred
nothing to be alarmed about just yet, but
it’s been several years since they’ve been by
they’ll paint us crazy, dupes at best,
leaving others unmoved
regret, the past can’t own me

~kat

A ReVerse poem 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. I use it as a review of the previous week.


no regret – NaPoWriMo #6

no regret

i don’t care to entertain
or name the what if only’s
wondering may well beget
regret, the past can’t own me

~kat


…and just for the sake of “if”, I’m resurrecting a free verse poem from the archives:

lunacy

if you were brave
i could tell you who
i really am
jot my truths and epiphanies
like a grocery list
or like laundry, wet and
beleaguered hang
myself out to dry
it is troubling…normal
doesn’t fit my vocabulary
or my soul

call me lunatic
manic or insane but
i have noticed
the same wind catches
some leaves of grass
leaving others unmoved

kat 2001


For NaPoWriMo #6 Prompt: write a poem of the possible, a poem that emphasizes the power of “if,” of the woulds and coulds and shoulds of the world, I am trying a new form I found. The Awdl Gywydd, a Welsh form pronounced “ow-dull gee-youth” has the following rules:
• Four lines
• Seven syllables per line
• The final syllable of the first and third lines rhyme with the 3rd-5th syllable of the following lines
• The second and fourth lines rhyme and the a and c rhymes can slide a little. Here’s an example:
xxxxxxa
xxaxxxb
xxxxxxc
xxxxcxb