Category: Being Creative - Everyday Art Every Day

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 20

4/28/2020

Canadian Spring
All the Seasons in One Day
One + Four Haikus

Monsoons, floods, showers
Deluges for May flowers
‘Brella overturns

Holy crap, wind gusts
Out of nowhere, scared kitty.
Tornado paper swirls

Moist and mushy mud
Gurgles around galoshes
Slurpy and sloppy

Deceitful sun with
false promises. The cat knows;
Warmest through windows.

Might as well just #stayhome

Mud stanza first conceived Mar. 27, rest written April 25, title sorted April 28, 2020)

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 19

4/27/2020

NAPOWRIMO Prompt: Write a poem based on a “walking archive.” What’s that? Well, it’s when you go on a walk and gather up interesting thing – a flower, a strange piece of bark, a rock. This then becomes your “walking archive” – the physical instantiation of your walk. If you’re unable to get out of the house (as many of us now are), you can create a “walking archive” by wandering around your own home and gathering knick-knacks, family photos, maybe a strange spice or kitchen gadget you never use. One you’ve finished your gathering, lay all your materials out on a tray table, like museum specimens. Now, let your group of materials inspire your poem! You can write about just one of the things you’ve gathered, or how all of them are all linked, or even what they say about you, who chose them and brought them together....

I walked by the crick and back home up my street and snapped some pics. Then I photoplayed and created a wee scene...

A Drunken Tale (At the Local Watering Hole)

Wise turtle tells me tall tales of ye old Captain Fundas
who’s quite known for his specific brand spitfire sass.
He lives at his lighthouse, never raising his brows
when the fish fan outwards, away from the birdy buzzards,
for frisky frolics further upstream. Was it all but a dream....
in a little fishing town, a little further down
than that other nifty place, where I saw your pretty face?

(conceived April 24, 2020, recrafted and finalized April 25, 2020)

It’s a nonsense poem, not really saying anything,
But it’s whimsical
And quirky perky:)

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 18

4/27/2020

An Ode to Life’s Small Treasures;
Grandiose Unrealized Pleasures

6:30 am, the arse crack of dawn,
a time for the devil’s spawn,
or so I had thought...
I never knew such beautiful skies! I kid you not!

Opulent pearly pink, incandescent sky,
sultry shades of sorbet sashay.
Bloomy roars, reverberating cheery encouragements.
Optimistic rosy glow, vibrantly voicing hope,
radiating a golden orb of fiery faith in rocky times,
peeking out from the sinister buzzkill clouds;
Glorious red and yellow blazing, entwining flames of citrus
in sky mirrors, topsy turvy glassy reflections make me tipsy.

(Ideas/working out of ideas April 24, 2020, Written and fine-tuned April 25, 2020)

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 17

4/25/2020

Prompt: write a poem that features forgotten technology

CDs Remastered; Compact Discs Rememembered

Like 8 tracks and cassettes, CDs 💿
are almost obsolete technologies,
Just ask Sam the record man

Those shiny, silver discs once dazzled me
with magic,
Or, if you’re more scientifically inclined - a semi conductor laser wrote and read music that
enticed my ears and affected my life.

That’s the magic of the mix cd.

Now, I’m left with a museum of mementos;
thousands of sparkling memories in the mixes of youth.
Unhelpful titles scrawled across
in my 13, 17, 21 year old handwriting,
Relics representing events and feelings of ‘the best days of our lives’- not!

when ‘we were young, we were free!’

Long since forgotten what the titles mean;
they used to mean the world.
Now, a total surprise and a complete mystery
you don’t solve until you slide that cd into the player...
Wait for her to load .....
and let loose all wild a n d f r e e.
On the open road, you suddenly give nod to the equivalent of a stuck record needle, or the crumbling mess of cassette tapes, or a streaming stuckness.

Going digital is the loss of the craft.
It doesn’t have that certain slant of light;
It’s just data and it’s invisible,
all up in a cloud somewhere.
With all the space in the world, you can add or delete songs on a whim.

We used to slave over our latest creation.
Couldn’t wait for all the appreciation
Everybody wang-ed, everybody chung-ed
Everybody had fun tonight
Finite selections - 80 minutes, 18 or 19, 20 songs max -
Gotta be selective,
You had to pick and choose
Keep a specific theme or mood
Order mattered - Let’s face it,
No one knew how to work the shuffle
on those awkward clunky Discmans anyway! -
You had to be certain.
Once burned, burned forever!

Oh, and,
Never in the right case at the right time;
Chasing the perfect song,
Hunting for happiness and happy surprises.

That’s the magic of the mix cd.

(April 23, 2020)

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem #16

4/25/2020

Pathetic Pathos

In this life-mare without a care.
We’re stars in this epic of pandemic proportions;
An epidemic of anti-economical chaos,
lost lives and missed fortunes,
a surreal, real-life Dali,
ass imprints couch, jammies as allies.
Time melts mish mash minutes into disjointed days.
Dazzling colours fade into worn out greys.
Confusion hails, humanity fails.
So much for all the cautionary tales.
Respect essential superheroes in scrubs and uniforms;
they brave busy bus platforms in thunderstorms -
Life, as always, a fantastic master of pathetic fallacy,
demanding pathos.
I turn to another bottle to battle beastly doubts...
peace out.

(Written: April 13/14, 2020, Edited April 25, 2020)

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 15

4/23/2020

Poem #15... Prompt: a poem inspired by a favourite piece of music. I tried a Fibanocci Poem (syllables/line: 1 1 2 3 5 8 5 3 2 1 1 and repeat).
Because. Tool’s “Lateralus”....

Creative Spirit

i
am
woman,
hear me roar.
modern renaissance
tendencies awaken in me
in these crazy times,
keep me sane,
alive.
i
cry
out.
my
battle
caterwaul
explodes from within.
i’m a multipotentialite;
anything is possible.
ev’rything!
all things
can
be
if
you’re
ready
to receive
from the universe
infinite possibilities
spiral back to the
universe.
new light
shine
on

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 14

4/21/2020

Prompt: write a poem about the poems/poets, etc that inspired me to write poems.

Light My Fire

Music:
a muse
to amuse me.

Jim Morrison, You Touch Me, Baby

Mr Mojo Rising, the Lizard King
who could do anything,
except live.

Died, she cried.
When he was gone, she cried.

She still lives on Love Street.
Memories linger long on Love Street
as she drives in the moonlight.

Far from her hazy hippy self
an L.A. woman, now,
where people are strange.

She laments the end
with a feast of friends
in strange days.

Alive, she cries.

She
lives.

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 13

4/21/2020

The prompt from April 13 was to write a non-apology for something stolen... so I found these words from magazines...

I’ve stolen these words, and for that I’m not sorry.
They’ve spoken to me; they told me this story:

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 12, Triolet

4/19/2020

Rules of the Triolet Form...
The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.

I can see your light
From your pit of hell
Don’t give up your fight
I can still see your light
Can’t wait for no knight
I know how far you fell
But I can still see your light
From your pit of hell

(April 17, 2020)

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 11

4/19/2020

I’m ignoring the prompt, which is to look at Flower and botany proper names and meaning... I’ll fish out a past poem to follow the prompt but here is the third, and final poem in The Spencer Creek Trilogy....

In the Key of Creek

Cardinal calls me to Spencer’s sanctuary:
Cicadas keeping beat.

Blue jays strike up the chorus.
Wren envelops me with his whistling, whimsical melody.
Singing sparrow sings solo.
Crickets chime in.
Squirrel spots me and stops.
We stare, sharing a sliver of time.
Uncouth crows call crudely back and forth.
Chickadees chortle, chatting to one another,
announcing, “Autumn is nigh.”
Above, geese fly -
V for victory.

What’s that?
Did I hear a splash?
Bustling beaver is building.
Cat bird cries dramatically.
Cooper hawk eyes his kingdom.
Deer Momma and babe bolt.
I’m honoured to have been so near.
A mink! A mink! I’m tickled pink.
She swam across the creek.
Each day, new wonders.
Spencer’s siren song,
enticing me to sweet splendour. I surrender.