spiral - Day 6 of the 2016 PAD Challenge

Two days behind but undaunted. I've spent this week preparing query letters for my Young Adult Fantasy novel, Elsekind. I intend to send it out to three places on Tuesday, so that's fairly exciting and slightly terrifying. 

And today, I have a poem to share. Perhaps my favorite topic to explore in poetry is the connectedness between objects in the micro- and macroverse, particularly the Fibonnaci repetition of patterns. I love how patterns in nature replicate on the small and large scale. It's stunning and humbling, how a snail and a galaxy can contain the same atoms, the same shapes, once again proving that we all are more alike than we are different.

Fibonnaci knows...

spiral

one shell

one tiny shell

one spinning spiral

like a floating iris

like the golden eye

of a great grey heron

poised on a riverbank

in a glimmering city

in a far away country

on a great continent

riddled with rivers and

crisscrossed with streams

on this blue, blue earth

swaddled in clouds

strung with twinkle lights

turning and turning

within an orbit,

within the wide-flung arms

of a galaxy

one among

billions.

one shell.

one tiny

shell.

Beware of Fairy Tales - Day 5 of the 2016 PAD Challenge

Here is a twist on the twisted fairy tales. This is five linked haikus about a forest and a hapless adventurer.

Beware of Fairy Tales

 

Along the Forest Path by Selina Fenech

The sign outside reads:

Beware of the Fairy Tales

They always return

In the tavern light

Her wings like snowflakes, shiver

prismatic daggers

"Please, can you help me?"

Her voice is the falling leaves

You reach for her, and--

The path stands empty,

Stabbed by moonlight and silence

Moths brush at your face

Feet encased in stone,

Weapon useless at your side,

Words caught on your lips

Too late to scream now:

You are trapped within her snare.

She always returns.

One Doesn't Stop to Talk with Nightmares - Day 4 of the 2016 PAD Challenge

Off-prompt, but from a line in a Guy Gavriel Kay story, provided by one of our writing group partners, Lori Krell. I think this one is about becoming our worst nightmares. 

Mirror of the Soul by ispheria.

One Doesn't Stop to Talk to Nightmares

Yes, I heard her warning

as I left the bar that night.

I heard her

but I refused to heed

the raving rantings

of a whore

Yes, she warned me of the dangers

of straying from the path

of staying too long

of listening

to the whispers.

I heard her

but I thought her

mad

I thought

her

mad.

She said, One doesn't stop

to talk to nightmares.

I said, What do you know

of dreams?

Her cracked face

sagged:

fractures panes

in ruined casement.

Yes, I wondered what she lost

from lingering too long

from sipping too deeply

from keeping cozy company

with the demons

of her dreams

I wondered, but dismissed her

A mad woman

A transient

A fool

No, I did not see her

for what she is

for what she was:

Not a broken window

but a mirror.

A reflection

of me.

Three - Day 3 of the 2016 Poem A Day Challenge

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Three (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Three Blind Hippos,” “Three Muskrats,” “Three’s Company,” “Three Movies Is Too Many for The Hobbit, Peter Jackson (just saying),” and so on.

Here is a strange little poem in round. It's a bit rough, but I'll take it for now.

Three

On the road,

on the road

an old crone sang

with a stick

in her hand,

with a crow

on her back

On her back,

on her back

the old crow cawed

with a jewel

in her eye,

with a ring

on her wing

On her wing,

on her wing

there slept a dream

with a wish

in her heart,

with a song

on her lips.

On her lips,

on her lips

there rested a kiss

with a prince

in her bed,

with a crown

on his brow.

On his brow,

on his brow

there weighed a truth

with a price

in its words,

with a curse

on his grave

On his grave,

on his grave

the old crone wept

of a love

and a girl

and a boy

and a bird

And the three

who fled

with the jewel

and a ring,

They sing

no more

No more

they sing.

Actual Things He Said To Me - Day Two of the PAD Challenge

Unless you're actually just an asshole using
honesty as a shield for rude behavior.

The 2016 April PAD Challenge shuffles along to Day 2. Let’s unwrap today’s prompt.

For today’s prompt, write a what he said and/or what she said poem. Maybe he or she said a rumor; maybe he or she gave directions; or maybe he or she said something that made absolutely no sense at all. I don’t know what they said; rather, each poet is tasked with revealing that knowledge.

Here is a poem close to my heart. These are actual things men have said to me - some in person, some via instant message, but all true.

Actual Things He Said to Me

He said, "It's hot that you're a single Mom.

They're like the surest bet.

That's how it is where I come from:

You gotta take what you can get."

He said, "You are smoking hot, but

Petite chicks are all I date.

I would really like it a lot

If you could just shed some weight."

He said, "Why do you need feminism?

Isn't that for ugly girls?

That kind of sexual fascism

is what's ruining the world."

He said, "Your book is too feminine.

You shouldn't quit your job.

Your sense of humor's asinine.

You think you're funny, but you're not." 

He said, "Hey princess, hey baby, hey doll

I'm not like other dudes.

I'm looking for love, I'm looking to fall

So PM me all your nudes."

And then he said, "I don't get it,

how women can be so mad

I just told you what I want.

So how can that be bad?"

He said, "Women claim to want honesty.

But that just doesn't fly.

'Cause when we tell them what we need,

They would rather hear a lie."

But she said, "You misunderstand us.

We are but human beings

Not a princess in a tower

Not some puppet tied with strings."

She said, "I'm not here to perform for you.

I don't need what you have to say.

Someday I'll realize my own goals

And that someday is today."

Fools Rush In - Day One of 2016 Poem-A-Day

Let Poem-A-Day begin!

Every year for the past -- I don't know, decade? -- I have participated in Robert Lee Brewer's Poem-A-Day in April. Some years, I make it all the way to the end. Other years, I fall fabulously short. The point, though, is to write poems, and that I do. 

Here is the link to Brewer's PAD Challenge site, where he posts his daily poetry prompts:
2016 Poem A Day Challenge Join me, if you please and if you dare, in writing one poem each day in April. 

Day One:

For today’s prompt, write a foolish poem. It’s April Fool’s Day, after all. Let’s loosen up today with a poem in which we’re fools, others are fools, or there’s some kind of prank or tomfoolery happening. Fool around with it a while.

Fools Rush In 

Foolish is a mockingbird

Who first dives from her nest

Foolish is the scientist

Who continues to try and test

Foolish is the playground child

Who finally raises her fist

Foolish is caterpillar

Who unwinds from her chrysalis

Foolish are those who push and push

Who refuse to give up their fight

Foolish are they, the believers

Who rally against the night

Foolish are those who continue

To live, to love, to dare.

And though they may be wounded,

they still have love to share.

Count me blissful among them:

This incautious band of fools

For if I let anguish guide me

I never would have you.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Thirty

Prompt for Day Thirty:

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Bury the (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Some possible titles include: “Bury the Hatchet,” “Bury the Body,” “Bury the Past,” “Bury the Hate,” and “Bury the Acorns.”

This is the last day
I have written my poems
Now I get to sleep

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Nine

Prompt for Day Twenty Nine:

For today’s prompt, write a what nobody knows poem. It’s easy to write a poem about what everybody already knows, though it may be difficult to write an interesting poem about such things. Still, use today’s prompt to explore things people may not know–secret stories, locations, and so on.

Little Lies

small

truths hide

in small places,

like beneath a sink

where he slept at night

what no one knows

is that he

did not

sleep.

lies

hide, too,

in the open

where we can see

bites marks on his fingers

but he said he

bit his nails

and we

believed

bigger

lies leapt

in flying fire

like tempers tossed, hot:

it was the rats biting

and so he hid

his tiny hands

from us,

too.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Eight

Prompt for Day Twenty Eight:

Here’s the final “Two for Tuesday” prompt of the month:
1. Write a matter poem. Matter is what things are made of.
2. Write an anti-matter poem. The opposite of a matter poem.

Matter

Wide are the skies

within your eyes.

Endless, the world

in your mind.

Medians and means

and in betweens,

Of mosts and leasts

and obsoletes

You are above and

beyond these things.

Nothing the while

can reconcile

with the honesty

inside your smile

for my Dad

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty:

Prompt for Day Twenty:

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “My (blank), the (blank),” replace the blanks with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “My Dentist, the Torture Expert,” “My Lunch, the Thing I Got Out of the Vending Machine,” “My Father, the Comedian,” or “My Life, the Punchline.”

I am playing catch-up, so this one of the two poems I wrote on Day Twenty One. It wasn't finished on the day, so I'm posting it for Day Twenty, because I couldn't feel that prompt.

This was inspired by a conversation with a friend with whom I'd stayed up way too late.

I Am Not

I am not your princess

I am not your muse

I was not put upon the earth

to aid and comfort you

I am a human being

I have got my plans

They have nothing to do

with your boring, idle hands

I don't care if you are listening

I'm not worried if you care

I'm a woman, goddammit,

Walk beside me if you dare.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Seven

Prompt for Day Twenty Seven:

For today’s prompt, write a looking back poem. Of course, some people just glance over their shoulders, and others stop and turn all the way around. Some look back in time and weigh their successes and failures, evaluate things they could do better. Some claim they never look back. Whatever your stance on looking back, capture it in a poem today.

This is for my parents, who have been married for forty years. I'm trying to reflect how their love has grown and changed over time. I hope I hit somewhere close to the mark.

A Year, A Life

our love, in barefoot splendor,

traipsing through thick viny trails

cut off shorts and halter tops

dandelion born on gales

our love in springtime formals,

reveling in orchid blooms

a rich and gauzy fabric

full of softly fragrant plumes

our love, dressed in winter's clothes,

bundled tight against the cold,

a woolly warmth protects us,

never let the chill take hold

now our love is autumn's cloak

gathered across our shoulders

at campfire's side, side by side,

while life's long ember smolders

2015 Poem a Day, Day Twenty Six

Prompt for Day Twenty Six:

For today’s prompt, take a word or two invented by William Shakespeare, make it the title of your poem, and write your poem. Click here for a link to some words coined by Shakespeare, who was baptized on this date in 1564. If the link doesn’t work, here are a few: advertising, bloodstained, critic, dwindle, eyeball, hobnob, luggage, radiance, and zany. He invented more than 1,700!

I went off prompt today because I was toying with the idea of making a puzzle poem yesterday, and this one came alone. The missing letters make a phrase. My brain was very entertained, and I hope yours is, too. (I put the answer in the tags...)

Missing Persons

I knew

when you d_d_'t look back

we were done

Two years of maybes

_wo months of p_omises

Yo_ wouldn't kiss,

not in public

no_ in the s_adow

of outs_ders you woul_

never see again.

Y_u stood in the security li_e

and I watched and wa_ched

and hoped

but

you never once

looked back

and you grew

smaller

and

s_aller

unt_l

there wa_

nothing

left

to _ee

Yesterda_

is the gh_st

of _s.  

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Five

Prompt for Day Twenty Five:

For today’s prompt, write an across the sea poem. This could be a love letter, an electronic submission through cyber space and time, or a travel poem (by air or sea, though probably not car). Modern travel or back in the days of rugged explorers. Wandering or wondering, your choice. As always, the prompt is just the springboard to your poem; feel free to bend and break.

When I read this prompt, I thought, "Across the sea... acrostic." I chose a phrase and this followed: 

Across the Sea

Summer skies filled with rain

Everyone dashed inside

Only we stood

Under the clouds,

Laughing

To have known you has

Opened my eyes

Spring hills filled with flowers

And I'm missing you, my friends

Never forgotten

Maybe one day you will come

Across the sea

Remember our Soju promise:

Come see me! Come see me!

Over here in Texas

Still welcome, still in my heart.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Four

Prompt for Day Twenty Four:

For today’s prompt, write a moment poem. The moment can be a big moment or small moment; it can be a good moment or horrible moment; it can affect thousands or matter to just one person. Some moments happen in crowded rooms; some happen in the most quiet of spaces. Find yours and write a poem.

The road leading to my Aunt's house was, until very recently, quite rural. We used to live across the street from her in what is still my favorite house ever. Surrounded by pastureland on three sides and a kind of reclusive farmer we call the Donkey Man (he has a donkey) on the fourth, we used to see a lot of deer, roadrunners, foxes, and once, a ring-tailed cat.  

In the last two years, in spite of a report from the TNRCC stating that it's a bad idea to build apartments atop a cave formation, developers constructed a massive student housing complex across the road from Aunt Ava's house.  

I always worry about the little animals. It troubles me that they've been forced into smaller and smaller habitats. Sure, there's parkland nearby with lots of green space, but considering the acres and acres of open land they used to roam, we've left them with scraps. My brain tells me humans have to have some place to live. My heart answers with the truth: there are plenty of abandoned buildings we can refurbish closer to town. We can build up instead of out. We can be smarter and kinder at the same time when it comes to protecting the creatures with whom we share this world. 

Hello, soap box. Where did you come from?

Anyway, as I came home from my run last night, I crossed paths with a fox. There's a family of them in the empty field, and they are beautiful. This poem is for them.

Out-fox

A cutout shape:

ears and tail

you whisked

across the path

Wild and cunning,

this mother fox:

black and silver

soft and sharp

Our road,

once your

open field.

Our powerlines,

once your

stream and trees

Still you prowl,

you hunt,

and slink,

bright eyes

and starlight

And you watch me,

keen, calm, alert

You were here before

You are here now

You'll be here

tomorrow,

when we burn

ourselves out.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Three

Prompt for Day Twenty Three:

For today’s prompt, write a historic poem. It could be a poem about a landmark event, specific battle, an era in time, or whatever you consider a historic happening.

This one's far from finished, but I like the use of toes and foot. I'll revisit this one next year, perhaps.

History

the mice made homes

in the toes of shoes

at the foot of these hills

Operation Smoke Free, Day Four

Another long day on the smoke-free front. My Aunt admitted to smoking once per day each day we've been here while she took the dog out for a walk. But, she got an eCig today, and it seems to be helping her a great deal with her cravings.

I did not write my poem today. I did get a good run in (8 minute miles, yay!) and I wrote 1,407 words on the novel. I'm closing in on my goals on both fronts: Three more running sessions to go to make the 12 I need. I'm about 6,000 words or roughly one week away from making the 72,000 word goal I set when I started writing this novel in December.

That's good news.

I'm behind on poetry, but I feel confident that I can catch up.

Just not tonight.

Poem A Day, Day Twenty-Two

Prompt for Day Twenty-Two:

For today’s prompt, write a nature poem. For many poets, the first thing that may pop to mind includes birds, trees, waterfalls, rivers, and such. But there’s also human nature, nature vs. nurture, and other things natural, including natural selection and being a “natural” at something. Let your nature take it where it will today.  

This one is a seasonal poem, more than a nature poem, though there is some overlap. I chose haiku because they are traditionally written about nature. I usually write punny haiku, but I almost refrained from that this time. Almost.

Spring

With eyes like orchids,

her gaze sweeps across the fields

pink and gold and blue.

Summer

Rough hands and bare feet

where the ocean meets the sand,

he waves his hello

Autumn

Cinnamon sweetness

caramelized on his tongue

hides the scent of death

Winter

Whisper on her lips

A snowflake or a promise:

I am leaving soon.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty-One

Prompt for Day Twenty-One:

For today’s prompt, we’re dealing with our third “Two for Tuesday” prompt(s):
     1. Write a “what you are” poem, or…
     2. Write a “what you are not” poem.

I'm off prompt today, sort of. This is more of a reflection poem. It's been sitting in the unfinished poem folder for a while, but today when I looked at it, I made a few changes and thought, "It's as ready as it will ever be."

Mirror

A fear:

you will write

about the ways

I have scarred you.

And I have,

it pains to admit.

I have pushed

when I should

have comforted.

I have dismissed

when I should

have listened.

And you will write

about the ways

I have failed you.

All my searching

and running,

all my scattered 

hopes

dropped like 

fragments

of broken

mirror

in your lap.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Nineteen

Prompt for Day Nineteen:

For today’s prompt, write an authority poem. Maybe you are an authority on something or know someone who is (or who thinks he or she is). Maybe you respect authority, or maybe not so much. Maybe you are on the run from the authorities, in which case I can only say good luck, but this blog probably isn’t the best hiding place–especially with so many folks poeming away.

I am a few days behind on the challenge now. This one is super-rough, and I'm not sure it's an authority poem. 

Open Carry

I have a policy

for the kids

in my care:

I take you

with me

in my heart,

in my mind

every day,

every where.

Driving home

from school,

you are in the

backseat,

you control

the music

and the air

and the volume,

and the depth.

At night

when I cook,

I worry:

Do you have

what's good

for you?

Do you have

enough?

When I try

to sleep,

there you are,

chatting,

talking,

laughing,

crying.

And I worry.

Into the odd

hours,

I worry.

This is my

open carry.

This is my

weapon

against

crime

and poverty

and cruelty

and hate.

This is

what I have

to give:

openness,

acceptance,

and the

promise:

I carry you

in my heart,

and I

remember

who you are.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Eighteen

Prompt for Day Eighteen:

For today’s prompt, pick 2 vowels and write a poem using words that only contain one or both of those vowels. For instance, write a poem with words that only have a “u” and “o.” Also, the letter “y” is wild–so the words “my” and “gypsy” are freebies. And I’ll allow text-speak (or maybe I should say “txt spk”).

Please

Please

take

the chance,

make

that last

plan

4 me.

When

all

else

falls

away,

save

a day

4 me.