As a matter of fact...

Our final challenge for the year is to write a poem which engages with a strange and fascinating fact. Fortunately, my mind is somewhat of a treasure trove of oddities. The only trouble is which weird fact to choose...Perhaps something about the Black Death? I taught high school children all about it last year and they were fascinated by the attire worn by doctors during medieval times.

The crow doctors

They hovered over patients;

beaks filled with flowers

drove away the stench of death

The plague blackened blistered skin

which only bad temperaments could bring;

yet the long black robes 

of the crow doctors

kept out the real death bringers

Rats ran riot,

but the crows still came

to let blood 

from victims' veins

To Sylvia Plath

Today, our challenge is to pick a poem from the Plath Poetry Project's calendar. We're then to write a poem which responds to or engages with our chosen Plath poem. I have chosen to respond to Event.

The night cannot be that bad;

The silk moon glows 

against dark clouds –
silver lines them
and stars wink between
their soft tufts

The owls' soft hoots
tell of life
in the silent darkness

We may lie in shadows,
but we lie holding hands,
keeping each other warm
in the coolness of night

We sleep and dream
and wake
in hope
that has no fear or sorrow –
that does not fear the dark

The night is but a shadow
of the day

Postcards and memories

The challenges this year are certainly some of the most creative received thus far!

Today, we are to draft a prose poem in the form/style of a postcard. As travelling is one of my absolute favourite things to do, I love this challenge!

My dearest friend

If you were here,

you'd love the ever-changing sky

of which McCall Smith so fondly speaks.

You'd love the smell of malt

that hangs in the air on a cold day,

and the crisp mornings;

the cry of the seagulls

and the toll of St Giles' bell at midnight.

I really wish you were with me,

to pinch me,

to make sure that this is indeed my reality.

I miss you and love you,

but there's nowhere else I'd rather be;

I'd rather have you here with me.

Time is of the essence

As I do not believe in tarot card readings, I do not keep any. Therefore, today's challenge is not meant for me. However, instead of picking a card and writing a poem inspired by it, I will write a poem inspired by an image on my randomly thrown Rory's Story Cubes®, which act as prompts for stories when one is feeling uninspired.

Below is an image of the dice after being thrown. I have chosen to write a poem inspired by the clock die. Enjoy!

Rory's Story Cubes®

If time did not fly

If time did not fly,

I'd sit and stare more;

stare at nothing 

and think more

If time did not fly,

I'd be silent more often;

listening,

observing more

If time did not fly,

I'd read more;

I'd smell the pages

and savour each word

If time did not fly,

I'd sip my coffee;

I'd smell the roses

and look up at the sky

If time did not fly,

I'd learn more;

I'd be wiser

and live more

The senses sense

Today, we're to write a poem which includes images that engage all five senses. We're challenged to try to be as concrete and exact as possible regarding the "feel" of what the poem invites the reader to see, smell, touch, taste and hear.

Here follows a fitting poem in honour of two of my favourite things, which also form part of this blog's title.

The salty sea foam sweeps the sand,

Leaving pockets and bubbles

on its surface

Waves splash and spray

against rocks

The cool breeze brings

the sweet scent of frangipani

and sticky citrus clings to my fingers

like sea sand to my toes

Cold ice cream

drips from chins

and seagulls cry out

for your dregs

Then the orange sun sets

and all is silent

but the ever tumbling waves 

of the ocean

Beware!

This is going to be fun! Today's challenge is to write a poem that takes the form of a warning label...for ourselves! Here goes...

Warning

Too much cheese will lead to:

body fat and high cholesterol,

but pure bliss*

Too much coffee will lead to:

hypertension and heart palpitations,

but you'll not get through the day otherwise*

Too much binge watching series will lead to:

hours seen as wasted by everyone else,

but important 'me time' for yourself*

*Because why should you not enjoy the simple pleasures in life?

To my friend

Again, I really can't believe that April is almost over. The next Global Poetry Writing Month can't come quick enough!

Today's challenge is to write an elegy. This is no mean feat as it requires, in my opinion, doing someone you miss and love justice in but a few words and with a conclusion of hopefulness.

As my grandparents' deaths are still far too raw, I'm going to write an elegy for a friend. I doubt it will be any easier though...

Moon boy

You once told me the crescent moon

looked like a banana in the sky,

that I should toast marshmallows there

You showed me your art with pride –

an abstract waterfall

on your bedroom floor

I glimpsed a piece of your heart

in your midnight poetry

and birthday cards

Your kindness and love

shone in your eyes;

your life told a story

But you left a legacy, an example –

big shoes to fill

and a hole in our hearts

Now you toast marshmallows 

on your banana moon –

 one day, I will join you

Sounds like...

The challenges this year are really flexing our creative muscles, but I like it! Today's challenge is to write a poem based in sound. It could, for example, read like spoken language sounds, or incorporate overhead language, a song lyric, or language from something often heard spoke aloud (a prayer, pledge, motto, etc.). We could perhaps even use a regional or local phrase that we don't hear anywhere else.

Let's see how much Scots I remember from my time in Edinburgh...

'Spare some change please, love?'

said the dirty homeless man

All that he wanted 

was a wee tot, a dram

To wash away his sorrows,

To drive away the rain

'Ye numpty,'

said a lad

'A dinna ken who ye mean by "love;"

A gonny tell my dad!'

The lad clicked his tongue

and walked away, mad.

But the dirty homeless man

kept holding out his hand

When the impossible is possible

I love today's challenge! We're to choose one of six statements of impossibility. We're then to write a poem in which the impossible thing happens.

I have chose the following statement: 'The sun can't rise in the west.'

The day the sun rose in the west

The day the sun rose in the west,

the clock's hands ticked anti-clockwise

and the water went down the drain 

in the wrong direction

People started walking backwards

and laughed when they should have cried

I wore the wrong shoe on the wrong foot

and forgot to brush my teeth

But then I remembered 

It was Monday morning

and I'd woke up at the bottom of my bed

Nothing is right 

on a Monday

Narcissistic nature

I can't believe that this month is almost over.

Today's challenge is as follows: to write a poem which plays with the myth of Narcissus in some way.

Narcissist

You don't believe your beauty will fade;

You won't remain a gentle flower

beside a peaceful pool

Yet even flowers fade –

No amount of care,

or fake modifications,

can stop them from withering

So shall you wilt,

Succumbing to your 

very nature

Rebel with a poem

Our prompt today is to write a poem which involves rebellion in some way. As prompted, 'The speaker or subject of the poem could defy a rule or stricture that's been placed on them, or the poem could begin by obeying a rule and then proceed to break it.' We could also rebel against the genre we tend to write. I will attempt the first two suggestions.

She was tired of being the girl

Who stayed upon the shore,

The girl who held onto her tongue

Ever to say no more

But soon she     ran away from       them,

A rebel with a cause

She sailed out on the open seas 

And roared with the waves;

Felt the cool spray on her bare skin,

Soaked in her 

freedom

and basked in the glory of 

Her Triumph

Erase and reimagine

Today's challenge is twofold. Firstly, we are to write a paragraph in which we briefly recount a story, describe the scene outside a window, or give directions from our house to the grocery store. We are then to erase words from the paragraph, or use the words of the paragraph to create a poem.

Below is my paragraph, followed by my poem:

Outside my window is a small, overgrown garden. Ivy winds its way up a pillar on my patio, while an explosion of lavender invades a small patch of grass and peeks through the fence of intertwined honeysuckle. A small tree's leaves sadly hang their heads earthwards in desperate need of trimming. Succulents and daisies thrive, as does the grass which sneakily creeps into every single flower bed alongside a myriad of weeds. A garden gate invites sneak peeks, but keeps my 'country garden' private.

My garden winds;

an explosion of lavender, 

A small tree's leaves

sadly hang their heads earthwards,

desperate

Grass sneakily creeps

alongside a myriad of weeds

Revision

I'm going to state the challenge for today as it is given, otherwise it may get lost in translation, so to speak. The challenge is inspired by revising poetry.

'First, find a poem in a book or magazine (ideally one you are not familiar with). Use a piece of paper to cover over everything but the last line. Now write a line of your own that completes the thought of that single line you can see, or otherwise responds to it. Now move your piece of paper up to uncover the second-to-last line of your source poem, and write the second line of your new poem to complete/respond to this second-to-last line. Keep going, uncovering and writing, until you get to the first line of your source poem, which you will complete/respond to as the last line of your new poem. It might not be a finished draft, but hopefully it at least contains the seeds of one.'

I've chosen to 'revise' Leisure by W.H. Davies

No time

We only have time to work –

Indeed, it's a poor life, full of care

Smiling, her eyes began to wander

If she had time to smile

She loved to dance,

Yet she had no time for such beauty

Trees full of whispers like a butterfly's flight,

There's no time to listen, day or night

Where trees grow from hidden seeds,

There's no time to see them grow

We only stare at our screens,

There's no time to take in different scenes

We only have time to work –

Indeed, it's a poor life, full of care

Anecdotes

This should be fun. I know exactly what I want to write about.

Today's challenge is to write a poem in which we retell a family anecdote that has stayed with us over the years.

Runaways

They'd asked permission

to run away

It was not taken seriously

They were given food

and waved goodbye

They did not come home

It grew dark, 

George went to look for them

Someone called home

They'd made a campfire

outside a family friend's home

They couldn't be punished 

They'd asked permission

to run away 

Play

We're now challenged to write a poem which prominently features the idea of play. This could become quite nostalgic...

I used to play

I used to play

outside,

inside,

under beds,

in blanket tents

Where a whole new world

came to life

before me –

We were mermaids,

and we visited talking animals

who lived in postboxes 

and hollow trees

Where anything –

everything –

was possible

and innocent feet

tread lightly

to catch fairies

Villains are human too

I love today's prompt! We're to write a poem in which 'a villain faces an unfortunate situation and is revealed to be human (but still evil).'

I have always maintained that the greatest villains are far more complex than we give them credit for, showing both regret and satisfaction with regard to their evil deeds. This challenge is, therefore, right up my alley.

I've chosen to write about Sauron from J.R.R Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I hope that Tolkien would approve as I have such deep respect for him.

His all-seeing eye

looks left and right,

back and forth,

scanning the horizon 

for enemies...

and his long-lost love

He thirsts for the destruction

of rebellious creatures –

those who seek to destroy him in turn

Yet he pines 

in the same breath

for a love that once was,

a love that 

may never be

He dreams of a time

long-lost 

in the ebb and flow

of his ego

Oh, for his love to return,

that they may exchange rings

more powerful than the One,

that they may rule

together

Dreams

I have a few recurring dreams which all have specific meanings that actually make sense somehow.

Today, we are to write entries for an imaginary dream dictionary. We are to pick one or more words from a given list and write about what it means to dream of these things.

I have chosen the words 'seagull' and 'rowboat'. I often dream of the sea, and love everything related to the sea, so I find these words most fitting to write about.

I'd like to give my poem a dream-like quality, hiding the dream's meaning within it...

To drift along the shore,

seagulls soaring,

crying out for 

your attention

One lands in your rowboat

as you leap across the waves,

as if to protect you

from the chaos

He lifts off,

lands in the water

beside you

as the calm sea

lets you float 

into oblivion –

You could care less

about the squawking shore

A phrase in any other way...

Our challenge today is to write a poem 'in which the words or meaning of a familiar phrase get up-ended'. Give me a few minutes while I search for a few idioms which I could potentially turn topsy-turvy, inside out and upside down...I'll try and include more than one. Let me know what you think.

She touched the sky, 

feeling 

on top of the sunny day;

The sun encircled by a golden lining

Chaos to her serenity

opposed compliment to cure

But not having

thought mind to mind,

She thought it best

To pull the cotton from their eyes,

waking sleeping cats 

and

jumping from that work horse.

Haibun: A second attempt

We have been challenged once again to write a haibun. I do not think I got it right in my previous attempt. Hopefully, this time I will be closer to being on the mark...

I'll begin with two verses of what I deem to be prose poetry (please correct me if I'm wrong) and end with a haiku.

Grassy knolls and barley fields

roll by unnoticed 

by un-wandering eyes

that only see what is inside

When will we open our eyes 

to the beauty 

of what passes us by

on journeys 

to far off places?

Though trains do not stop

for us to gaze upon small

wonders, we can look

The future and beyond

The challenge of the day derives directly from an interview with poet Kwoya Fagin Maples. It is to write a poem which addresses the future, answering the following questions:

• What does y(our) future provide?
• What is your future state of mind?
• If you are a citizen of the "union" that is your body, what is your future "state of union" address?

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what the last question entails, but I guess that's the beauty of poetry - we each have a different interpretation when reading it, so why not different interpretations of the same prompt?

I do not want everything,

only that which I need;

though so much overwhelms

my mind

due to man's greed

Two things too many

I really have to stretch my mind for today's prompt: to write a poem in which multiple events are occurring simultaneously. I think I'm going to stick to two events in a short poem! I may just play with a few other devices while I'm at it though...

He sat in front of me in class,

His apple

f

  e

   l

    l

and r o l l e d

towards me

We both 

                 reached out

Our-eyes-met

Was there tension

or

an apple

between us?

Size it up

My poem for today will include something big and something small, according to the given prompt. I've been inspired by the feeling of being small and lost, but utterly content in a foreign city.

Her size-three feet

walked the streets

in search of unknown dreams

Windows peered down

at her tiny frame

as she wandered here and there

Castles stood proud

on hills above her

as her mind became lost in the mist

The magic of poetry

I adore fairy tales, folklore, fantasy...That is why today's prompt is especially exciting. We are to write a poem in which mysterious and magical things occur. I can't help but employ a little old-fashioned language...and perhaps a bit of humour too.

Outside her window

stood a tree;

the tallest tree

that e'er could be

Upon one night,

there shone a glow

upon a branch

Nay high nor low

To her window

was she beckoned;

the light - a fairy

she did reckon

And so out of window

clambered she quickly,

the footing - 

it was rather tricky

But soon she did 

hold out her hand,

upon which the fairy folk

could stand

The winged whispered

in her ear 

all that little girls

should hear

It took all night,

but by dawn,

the secrets

of girls' lives were drawn

Now that she's grown,

ask her this:

What is the secret

to our bliss?

She'll only smile 

if you're a man.

For tell you?

Only fairies can.

Identity crisis

The daily prompts this year are fantastic. Today's optional prompt (or, as I like to refer to it, challenge) is to write a list of all our different layers of identity. We are then to divide all the ways in which we could be described or viewed into two lists: those which make us feel powerful and those which make us feel vulnerable. We are then to write a poem in which one identity from the first list contends or converses with an identity from the second. I don't think I even need to draw up lists. I already know what I want to write about...

Get up!

Stand up 

and fight!

The blood of Vikings

runs through your veins

Your voice should be heard

over land and sea

But I avoid conflict,

I stand in the shadows

of my own annoyance

My lips are often sealed,

while my mind races,

tells me to step up,

stand out

Because that is where you belong,

on the mountaintops of your forefathers,

your head held high

You were born of kings

and not dry leaves

trampled underfoot

You were forged 

in centuries of 

strength,

pride

Get up!

Stand up

and shout!

The blood of a warrior 

runs through your veins

Breaking lines

We are now challenged to leave our comfort zones regarding line breaks. Let's
go! (See what I did there? It pains me, but it is somewhat
liberating!)

So, I've decided to write a poem about breaking the rules, playing with line breaks at the same time.
I like to be cheeky sometimes.


Let's bre-ak the
rules,
Let
us be
free
of form and limitations

Who cares
if anyone is
watching?

Who cares if anyone
is
judging?

We are

liberated

by being our

own

       stand out

poets

Connections and responses

It is perhaps best if state today's prompt as is: 'to write a poem that, like the work in Translucence, reacts both to photograph and to words in a language not your own.'

We are to begin with a photograph. I have chose the photograph below:

We are then to find a poem in a language we don't know (this site was recommended). I decided on A voz era pánico by Chus Pato. The title of the poem purely coincidentally translates as 'The voice was panic,' which, in my opinion, represents the chosen photo perfectly. (I promise that I did not seek this out, but merely stumbled across it.) 

I have chosen to respond to only part of the poem as it is a very long poem:

A voz era pánico
e desexaba, insistía, ter hábito(s) no poema
.........................

pero non todo pode ser transportado (non a voz, desde logo)

si o espírito que invade ao bardo, entre as uces irtas

e porque chove, os habitantes do poema teñen que abrir os seus paraugas // sacan o que levan dentro e búscanlle acomodo fóra

[só porque ti pousas a mirada no texto podo comezar coas solucións]

isto é o que consegue Cabaleiro Amábel, facer que seres alienados se presenten ante o mundo, e moi ao seu pesar, como persoas ceibes

pero só a voz empasta as tres historias
a voz que a escritura non acubilla

así pois, un poeta é un ser ancián.

We are then to ignore the accompanying English translation and translate 'the poem into English, with the idea that the poem is actually "about" [our] photograph' [My insertion]. We are to use 'the look and feel of the words in the original to guide' us along as we write, 'while trying to describe the photograph.' Here goes...I think this may turn out to be rather, um, humorous.

The voice was panic

It insisted on being in this poem
.........................

It wanted to be transmitted (not the voice, but a thought)

Yes, a spirit of irritation had invaded the boy's mind

Please, it wants to be heard in this poem,

Do not accommodate those who will stand in its way

[Listen please, no text is ever a solution to the chaos]

The consequence is that Cabaleiro Amabel, will have to face a series of great foreign presentations, and you and me, coming and going

Hear the voice of the empire through history

A voice of excruciating pain

Also, of a poet of ancient times.

There you have it. I'm not quite sure if it works (*laughs and cries at the same time), or even if it is indeed a response to both the chosen photograph and poem. Also, I may understand more Spanish words than I gave myself credit for. It may have detracted from my creativity. Let me know your thoughts...

A concrete abstraction

The challenges are becoming more difficult every day, but I embrace it! Today's challenge is to write a poem about something abstract. However, we need to discuss or describe that abstraction in the form of concrete nouns.

Can you guess what abstract quality I chose to write about?

Feeling the grass beneath my feet

As we eat yoghurt 

And listen to jazz

In the park

Saturday morning grocery shopping

And stopping in the park

To soak up the sun

And catch up

Spanish dancing across the street

On our way home,

Laughing at the company

We keep

Watching fireworks over the castle

As we stand on the North Bridge,

Mocking your silly sayings

And giggling like kids

Coming home to the smell

Of your hubbly bubbly cherry smoke

And joking about how the floor shakes

When anyone does laundry

Staying up late

For dinner parties,

Or nights out

When you take care of me

What's in a name?

Today's challenge is to write a list poem in which all the items are made-up names, preferably around a theme; for example, band names, titles for novels or television series. We are encouraged to be as extravagant as we like. I've decided to try and write a poem using potential song titles (any genre). *Takes a deep breath*

I miss you more

Every day I'm away

I'll be back,

But I can't stay

I wish

I could hear the seagulls call

To walk your streets,

To stand up tall

I'm a little less confident 

When I'm here

When I'm with you

I've not a care

Say you, say me

Today's challenge is to write a poem that plays with voice. It's quite a challenge, but I'm up for it!

Who am I to you, you ask?

Yes, indeed, who am I?

But firstly, who are you?

I am a steaming cup of coffee

On a cold day

I'm a brisk walk on a crisp morning

You're the song on repeat in my mind

As I clutch onto fragments of you

And you're the sweet smile of homecoming,

The tear I wipe away

You're the memory of pressed daffodils,

The ever-changing skyline of my dreams

I'm forever tied up in your heart,

The aching knot in your stomach

We long for each other

In the mists of our anamneses

How do I love thee?

It is that time of the year again: Global Poetry Writing Month (otherwise affectionately known as GloPoWriMo, or if you're in the States, NaPoWriMo, as April was originally National Poetry Writing Month before it spread globally).

Today's prompt is to write a poem in the form of a love letter...to an object. Let us see if you can guess what I love with all my heart before you get to the end...

My dearest

You're a sweet delight

Though your coldness sometimes

Hurts me

You're smooth and rich

But that does not unnerve me

You complement almost all temptations

Though sometimes

All I want is you

You're there in good times and in bad,

You've never let me down

I love you

My delicious delight,

My cone of shame,

My ice cream