Category: Dundas - Everyday Art Every Day

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 25

5/1/2020

I am not ignoring the prompt, but merely deferring it until another time in the future. It is an intriguing prompt that I wish to devote some time. Later, so I will use this opportunity to share two poems that I wrote in Aug. 2019 for an entry into a local art walk.... our local art gallery, Carnegie Gallery in Dundas, Ontario does an annual Art Walk, during Art Week, in which they team up with the Tower Poetry Society. Poets choose artworks to inspire poems and both are displayed on a walk through Dundas BIA.

Beverly
In response to “Beverly Swamp” by Lynne MacIntyre

I peer into the murk and see many me’s,
And reflections of trees.
The trees are upside-down,
And so is my frown;
When I look into the swamp.
I listen with my eyes:
Water waves with a splash
and there’s just a flash
as you dash away;
To where the wild things are,
in the dark, dark wood.
And I wonder where are you, now?

Hidden
In response to “Stoic” by Ralph Heather

So much unseen amongst your green leaves.
In your proud boughs
you gather all the creatures
that I see with my ears:
Squirrels crunch nuts;
Blue jays squaw and screech;
Chickadees chime in;
Cicadas preach;
Interrupting the blackbird’s speech.

Leaves sway,
And they give away
the spot where you play

A tree is a house, an umbrella and a playground,
interconnecting
the lives that exist within and around.

Ouch, a chestnut knocked upon my noggin!
And, I know that if a tree branch crashes to the ground,
it certainly makes a sound.

Can you see the forest for the trees?

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 24

5/1/2020

Opticks

The prompt was ‘fruit’ and this somewhat recent and unshared poem has an apple in it, so I count it(;

NaPoWriMo2020 - Poem 23

5/1/2020

The prompt was to play with the alphabet (more or less). I was going to cheat and use a poem from when I did this before. Instead, I tried a new one, and Aha! I like it, but I also like the other one, so here are both...

A is for Apocalypse

Architect of anarchy, asshole archetype; And
another apeshit angry anti-asshat holy epiphany --

Aaaaarrrgghhh --

After all the awesome angelic altar-egos
effectively alienate the aliens, isolating with the best of ‘Em,
but only if it’s after eight
and, only if you’re arboreal, all upright and sturdy strong,
can you truly see all that’s wrong.

Ardent animalistic instincts above all else — so I attack,
aggressive and artfully with much ado.
Ammunition needed to amass amenities amongst
the average anomalies in this after-lifetime of allegorical irony.
No glory, like getting schmucked by a lorry, asterisk...
It might have been a bus, but it doesn’t matter when I’m dust --
Awesome August allergies in April —

Aaaachoooo --
Boo hoo. Me too.

(April 24... first write/word gathering, April 25, 2020... arranged, edited, finalized, again Apr 30/May 1)

Mouthful of Marbles

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 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.

NAPOWRIMO2020 - Poem 9

4/19/2020

This prompt is for a concrete poem, which I have done for my 4th poem, so I present the second poem in The Spencer Creek Trilogy...

Forest Music,
Conducted by Spencer Creek

Bees dance,
dragons swoop,
and damsels swerve.
Cicadas buzz
above
siren sounds
from town,
in tune with the key of creek
Red cardinal calling
Blue jay in the fray
Red squirrel loves to rap.
Tap tap tappy-tap,
a woodpecker, or four,
knocking at the door,
competing with mad machines
lobotomizing the luscious lullaby.
Grackles traverse treetops,
making a mighty ruckus;
Troops storm the creek bed,
taking over the moment.
Squeaking and peeping,
rustling and bustling,
the forest is suddenly very busy
chattering and calling.
Who’s that whistling wanton wishes?

As I reluctantly retreat to rash, brash reality,
brushing off burrs, rebirthing the bush,
I salute Great Blue, standing at attention,
looking for a fishy feast. Then
wondrous wings spanning greatness as he gracefully glides away a w a y...

Finalized, April 19, 2020

NAPOWRIMO2020, Poem 8

4/19/2020

The actual prompt for April 8 was to use a line or two of another poem to start your poem.... Poem #3 in this trilogy uses a line from poem #2 as it’s title. Plus, I’ve recycled lines from different/earlier versions of the poems, so I am loosely following the prompt... sort of;)

Awestruck - Poem #1 in the Spencer Creek Trilogy

Along Spencer Creek, nature abounds.
My backyard! Great beauty is found.
Though, I didn’t always know,
and I was sort of just a schmo.
‘Twas not but several years ago,
I’d trek along the trail,
oblivious to the snails,
thumbs thumping iPhone,
iPod pop tunes, head down,
wrapped in my own sound,
iMind my iBusiness.

I digress... In my middle-aged nowadays,
I listen to what the bird says;
clamouring cicadas, thundering clouds, and the creaky tree
all have messages for me.

Water turns and churns;
cascading creek rushes rocks.
If you really listen, the creek truly talks.

When inspiration I seek,
I take myself for a peek,
to sit upon a rock by my creek.
Listen. Hear nature speak.

In utter awe, struck by many mighty moments -

Oh, dear! A deer,
and me, we
share a stare
while the hare hops and
Squirrel goes over the bridge.

“It’s a great place to be,” said the biker to the poet.

** And just so you know, this is a true story, more or less, or less is more... or perhaps it was all but a dreamer’s dream, or a poet’s poem...

Original Poetry - a work in progress spanning several years, from first conception/original ideas, evolving into and through several poems, ultimately coming together into this, the first piece of the Spencer Creek Trilogy, by Nicola Schneider, Poet
Read and critiqued at the Tower Poetry Society Workshop in Hamilton, March 9, 2019