Tag Archives: National Poetry Writing Month

Days Versus Nights

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The days I survive
It's the nights I dread
When faced with the emptiness
of our bed
 
The day I spend madly
running to and fro
coming home only once I've
exhausted every other place to go
 
Under the guise of being busy
Under the prayer, I'll quickly sleep
 
Stretched out in a space
unnaturally wide
I can't enjoy it
you're not by my side
 
You're out on the road
and not just for a small while
I'm faced with the reality
of not seeing your smile

For each eternity I lay awake
gets closer to the tears I'll shed

Yes, while your voice on the phone
makes the moment feel alright
once we hang up, it's just me
Just the emptiness, just the night
 
The days I survive
It's the nights I dread
When faced with the emptiness
of our bed

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 7 finds me pondering the lamentations of a long-distance truck driver’s spouse in free verse.

Never Imagined

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They were alone at last.

On his knees.

His face wet with falling tears.

How he always liked him.

Hands clasped tight in front of him.

His voice hoarse from begging.

His knees wet with the tears that have fallen.

How he always wanted him.

He waited for the stark voice of his command.

He waited for the tantalizing touch of his control.

How he always needed him.

He knew he waited in vain.

So, he looked up at last.

In wet tears of grief.

In front of the marble headstone.

How he never imagined him.

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 6

Muse does enjoy taking things in an unexpected direction. Sorry/not sorry.

All That I Need Is Time

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All that I need is time
To smooth these nipped edges
How much more can I take
I’m living a nightmare
While standing here awake

All that I need is time
To help me muddle through
These dreams of yesterday
Like popsicles in sun
They come then melt away

All that I need is time
You're still very much here
Not like I have much choice
Each breeze ignites your touch
As the wind holds your voice

All that I need is time
Just take it day by day
Small comforts slowly grow
Nothing lasts forever
This urgent pain will go

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 3

And today’s poetic form is a Monchielle

The Monchielle is a poem that consists of four five-line stanzas where the first line repeats in
each verse. Each line within the stanzas consist of six syllables, and lines three and five rhyme.

The rhyme pattern is Abcdc Aefgf Ahiji Aklml.

This Love’s Season

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Spring came with a quickening
Belies frost from days ago
The verdant grass thickening
Wraps this love in rays aglow

Summer raised up paradise
Ablaze in tender poses
Focus on the edelweiss
Blinds this love’s thorns in roses

Autumn felt the forbidden
Narrowed eyes that look away
From tears that come unbidden
Cools this love gone so astray

Winter brought down Xanadu
Once filled with hope so pleasing
In apathy’s residue
Leaves this love interred, freezing

National Poetry Month for 2021 Day 2

Has me trying a brand new form (for me): Ae Freislighe Poems

The Ae Freislighe is an old poetic form from Ireland. It has a quatrain stanzas (4-line stanzas) of only 7 syllables per line. What makes is interesting (and somewhat frustrating) is its rhyme scheme.

Lines 1 and 3 rhyme together, but they rhyme as three syllables (xxa)

Lines 2 and 4 rhyme together as two syllables (xb)

A unique element of the form is that the final syllable of the poem should be the same rhyme as the very first syllable of the poem.

An Ae Freislighe poem can be as concise as one stanza, or scale out as far as a poet wishes.

 

This Morning

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Calm
Peaceful
I slumber 
In morning void
Of unneeded noise

Crash!
Rumble!
Thump! Bang! Boom!
That which man builds
Brings with it much sound

I
Wake to
Cacophony
Of construction
Morning peace now gone

I begin National Poetry Month for 2021 whinging in poem as this morning I was once again startled awake by the sounds of construction happening around my block before my alarm clock had the honors.

Today’s form: the Arun.

A nonce poem created by friend and fellow blogger, GirlGriot, an Arun is a fifteen-line poem in three sets of five lines. Each set of five lines follows the same syllable structure: starting with one syllable and increasing by one syllable with each line. 1/2/3/4/5 — 3x. There are no other rhyme or structural requirements. 

The Return

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In distant dreams
the muse
will

Come read to
me some
poem

Words soon forgotten
upon eyes
opening.

I create this
just to
prove,

I can launch
bright words,
forms

on pixilated paper
that mean
naught.

In my zest
nothing is
sacred.

Yet I hesitate
before I
begin

Because one words
should have
meaning

Before they escape
to the
sun

And the moon
and the
stars.

Then I realize
with vibrant
jubilation

That to do
this little
bit

Is a start.
I beam
YES!

In silent lucidity,
my muse
returns…

National Poetry Month 2020

Phoenix

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Like a phoenix to a flame he comes

Swearing up a blue streak
The grain of his outer staff
Perfectly matching my inner sculpture
I weather the frothy current
Tinkling down the esophageal path
In a flight of carnal – carnival – carnivore joy
The apparition of the newly dead bird laid to rest

But then phoenix rises

National Poetry Month 2020

Flower

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There’s a flower that’s grown
inside my heart
from a seed he’s planted there

Somehow it endured
despite the coldness
despite how hard I tried

To keep it from growing
I was never prepared
for the warmth of sunshine

That came from his smile
or the rain of tears
from his empathy

Gently pulling away the weeds
that threatened to harm
with his gentle touch

And the flower grew

Strong and beautiful
Until I could no longer fight it
And no longer wanted to

National Poetry Month 2020

I Never Expected 

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And you’d think it was you who called it off
At my own damned hubris do I scoff
Worse thing I ever did – how could I know
Would be to be so stupid in letting you go

Too afraid to tell you what was needed
You said I’d be sorry, you succeeded

I expected anger

How you made me strong was a weakness I’d deride
Though I knew it for truth, I was too deep in my pride
Knowing I lie, when I say I’ll get through this
Now trapped in the feeling my own hubris

All that’s left are the memories,
Once dear to me, now sear through me

I expected anger
I expected I might be sad

The empty bottles aren’t drowning out the din
When midnight finds me sobbing once again
You were all I had and I threw all
For I never learned how to beg, never knew how to crawl
And that’s my my downfall

I expected anger, 
I expected I might be sad

But no, I never expected to hurt so bad

National Poetry Month 2020

Felix with a Chance of Fido

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The morning air purred contentedly
In azures bright and clearly
Enough to see forever

Comforting as a warm wrap and a good read
Oh put it in a box for me indeed
In retrospect I should have known better

Of course it’s going to turn like this
The barometer drops to ruin my bliss
And the azures hiss and howl to a sleet of slate

I retrieve my umbrella placed out of sight
For the barking and caterwauling out tonight
Felines and canines dampening on our date
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Having silliness with a common analogy for uncommon weather

National Poetry Month 2020