Meta-poetry

I am metaphorically beating myself up a little about not being able to meet the challenge of writing one poem per day during the month of April for the first time ever since I discovered and took part in GloPoWriMo. I know I will get over myself eventually because life is what it is: busy. One must accept it.

Changing careers to teach has left me with less time to myself than ever before. I knew what I was signing up for (there are many teachers in my family and friendship circles), but I did not expect it to dampen my creativity, or to leave me too exhausted to create anything worthwhile when I have the chance...

Anyway, I am back on the saddle and determined to write something this evening!

Our daily prompt is to write a meta-poem; a poem about poetry. I've written a few in the past when inspiration struck, but let's see what I can manage tonight...

When the words came

When the words came,

they poured over me like rain,

running down

my head,

my shoulders,

my arms

and dripping 

from my finger tips

They soaked the page

in similes and metaphors,

hyperbole and pain

They smudged 

and drowned

under tears

They strained 

under obscurity

Sometimes, they twisted

into impertinent grins

Sometimes, they laughed

with the summer sun

But when they came,

the words

flowed

freely

Spoken word

Today, we're challenged to write a poem that is 'grounded in language as it is spoken.' Again, I am inspired by what happens in my classroom on a daily basis...

After second break

May I go and drink water, Ma'am? 

May I go to the bathroom?

Ma'am, have you heard the one about the 

chicken, the fox and the farmer?

Oh, and a bag of chicken feed!

Yes, you may go. Yes, go.

No.

Ma'am, were the questions for homework?

Which questions? Oh, yes. Yes. 

Please have a seat and take out your books.

We're going to mark the homework together.

What homework? Ma'am did we have homework?

When K get's back, can I go wash my hands?

Yes and yes. Now pencils in hand. Swap books.

What are we doing?

Someone messed water on the table!

Ouch! Can I get an ice pack from the nurse for my ankle?

Yes, go. Pencils. Number 1. What is...Jay? You have a question?

What number are we on? I didn't hear the answer for number one.

[audible sigh]

ABC

Our optional prompt for today, as I sit and drink Vietnamese coffee on this beautiful but chilly morning, is to write a poem an 'abecedarian' poem. This is 'a poem in which the word choice follows the words/order of the alphabet.' We could write a poem 'in which there are twenty-six words in alphabetical order,' or 'in which each line begins with a word that follows the order of the alphabet.'

I would love to try to the former, but the latter seems more doable at this stage!

With the alphabet in mind, I'm inspired to write a poem about my teaching experiences....

The classroom

As I entered the classroom

beside the tuck shop

chaos reigned

Delightful laughter,

eavesdropping,

fibs

Guffaws at 

humour 

I don't understand

Jokes

kids get –

lame jokes

Mildly amusing

nonsense where

opinions don't matter

Posers,

queen bees and

rascals

Snitches,

tattle tellers and

unruly outsiders

Virtuous saints,

willing hands and 

xenodochial spirits

Yelling and

zealous learners!

Farewell

Today's prompt is to write an elegy in which the abstract feeling of grief is made concrete through physical detail.

George

I never knew our chat

on that bench by the sea,

where we watched the mole dig,

would be a fondest memory

I never knew our ride

on the funicular at Cape Point,

which we got for free,

would be a good chuckle

I never knew our drive 

on Chapman's Peak,

after Eileen's wedding,

would grow our faith

I never knew

that I,

who thought you immortal,

could ever miss you this much

Perspective

Today, we're challenged to write a poem which 'presents a scene from an unusual point of view.' The most difficult part of this challenge seems to lie in choosing the perspective from which to write! Perhaps I will settle for a rather obvious perspective which springs to mind...

The fly on the wall

I watched from high

as the world went by

slowly below me

They did not see me,

did not hear me;

all those babbling fools

One fool dropped his food –

I did not doubt I would

land upon that tasty seat

On my spiralling journey south

I'd land on someone's mouth

and be swatted away like the fly I am

But for a little while longer,

until the temptation grew stronger,

I watched the world from high

Lists

Today's challenge is another great challenge! We are to write a poem which uses the form of a list to defamiliarise the mundane. Once again: Challenge accepted!

The fruit stop

The waft of stagnant fruit,

The pungent pull of apples,

The sickly sweet scent of berries

The chin-dripping mangoes,

The sticky-fingered watermelons,

The face-pinching lemons

The dimpled orange peel,

The delicate raspberry bubbles

The leathery bananas

The hot pink sunset of dragon fruit,

The midnight sky of plums,

The sunrise of pineapples

The drama of it!

Let's have a look at what we have today...a dramatic monologue!

We're prompted to take inspiration from the greats, such as Browning and Shakespeare, and create a voice or character as the "speaker" of our poems, 'and that could be acted by someone reciting" it. Fortunately, we need not be as, well, dramatic, or serious as the greats, but I have a feeling I'm going to be overly dramatic for the fun of it!

Oh, tragedy!

Oh, tragedy!

Oh, woe is me!

To cast mine eyes

upon the spilt milk

is but to cue weeping

as I clutch at my gasping chest

and fling my hand upon my brow

I stag-ger

lest

     I

            fall

into 

       deep despair,

never to wake

from my fateful faint

Oh, tragedy!

Oh, woe is me!

My cereal has left me.

Hunger takes me.

Whatever shall I have for breakfast now?

Easily confused words

We are almost halfway through Na/GloPoWriMo! April seems to have flown by like a flock of swifts!

Our challenge today is to incorporate homophones, homographs and homonyms into our poems, or make 'productive use of English's ridiculously complex spelling rules and opportunities for mis-hearings and mis-readings.'

As I am teaching just this to potential English home language educators, the above shouldn't be too much of a challenge, right? Wrong! However, I will do my very best! Either way, this should be fun and quite possibly ridiculous. I ask for forgiveness in advance for bad poetry...

The row

The present couple

bought a present

and a had raucous row

beside a row of can

'Can you try not to bump the cans?'

she shouted as if she'd already won

at the one she thought she loved

'Why can't we offer to take dessert?'

'Because ice cream melts in a desert

and I will desert you 

and your sticky mess

within the army's mess!'

Their peers peered at them

and separately tried to separate them,

trying to reason 

and find the reason

for the row

beside the row

of cans

A good mystery

We are challenged today 'to write a poem about something mysterious and spooky.' I know exactly what I am going to write about!

Sleight of hand

We watched 

as closely as we could,

but could not see

His dexterity

manipulated minds

His adroitness 

left us wondering:

How could fingers

be so nimble?

How could hands

and mouths

and tables

deceive us so?

Smoke and mirrors

could never be so deft

There is only one reason left:

Magic

The importance of dull things

Today's prompt is...interesting. We're challenged 'to write a poem about a dull thing' that we own and why (and how) we love it.

Alternatively, we could write about what it would mean to us to give away or destroy a significant object.

I could write volumes on the latter subject, but I am drawn to the former for some reason. I suppose I'm drawn to it because it seems to be more challenging, but it also evokes sentimentality over objects that could never mean anything to anyone but us. I know, my statement seems contradictory in terms, leaning more towards the latter prompt, but perhaps that is exactly what today's challenge is all about...

The ticket

Faded and torn,

dusty and worn,

I hold my ticket 

to my chest

When I close my eyes,

I still hear the sound

of the crowd's cheers,

and merry singing along

to our favourite songs

No photos were taken,

No recordings either;

we just enjoyed it

All I have is my ticket;

faded and torn,

dusty and worn,

holding it 

to my chest

Origins

Like yesterday's challenge, I love today's challenge! We are challenged 'to write a poem of origin'. We are prompted to write about from whence we came and where we are now. Our poems need not necessarily be geographical. This is a fantastic idea!

Me

I was molded

by a stubborn streak

and large bouts of anxiety

I grew to be meek and mild

and silenced

and boxed in,

yearning to break free

Once free,

my wings grew large

and I fluttered about,

tasting the sweet nectar of life

I grew legs

and ran away 

across the sea

and hills

to discover my history

and my future

I came back,

stronger,

independent, 

having proved myself

But someone trampled on my wings

and broke my legs,

and tried to crush me

But I am of my mother's courage,

I am of my father's sense of adventure,

of my grandparents' faith

I will not be whom others want me to be

I will stand firm,

I will run free

I am me

Lingo

I love today's challenge! We're to 'write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon.' I think I'm going to have fun with this one...

A monkey's wedding

Patches of blue

peaked through

heavy clouds;

bright blue 

against darkness

Showers of blessings

poured from the sky

alongside beams of sunshine

'Ah, it's a monkey's wedding,'

someone would say,

and I'd imagine

their vows

taken under a tree somewhere

beneath the black and blue sky,

and they'd run away,

laughing in the rain and shine.

Things

Today, we're challenged to take inspiration from Sei Shōnagon's journal, The Pillow Book, in which she includes various lists. Our challenge is to write our own list of things in her style. We may decide on what to include in the list. Mmm...

Things that delight me

A cool morning breeze

and birds singing

Roses of all shades and hues,

and trees heavy with fruit

The salmon pink sky at sunset

and the silence of twilight

The overwhelming scent 

of frangipani at night

A home-made meal

that sticks to your ribs

The wild display 

of Highveld thunderstorms

The softness of my pillow

beneath my weary head

Argot

Today's challenge is really challenging to say the least! We are challenged 'to think about the argot of a particular job or profession' and try to 'incorporate it into a metaphor that governs or drives' the poem.

I have chosen to use a phrase doctors usually use as code to indicate that a patient is expected to pass away soon. However, I want to use this phrase in a tongue-in-cheek manner, presenting it as a pun.

Circling the drain

The eight-legged critter

stood its ground

as the shower 

poured over it

It clung to 

the shower curtain,

but I did not give up either

It slid –

a victory!

No, its stubborn 

feet gripped

the bath's peeling enamel

Surely one last blast

of hot water

would send it swimming?

A pummelling 

of torrents

– at last! –

sent it spiralling,

circling the drain

The joy of giving

Our prompt for the day is 'to write a poem of gifts and joy' and is inspired by one of Rachel McKibben's posts on Twitter.

I am going to take the prompt a step further and challenge myself to write about the joy of giving, but not in the common sense of the phrase. I'm quite inspired by McKibben's post too...

The joy of giving

Today, 

I gave away a smile

and another tired face brightened

I let go of my own pain

in a warm cup of tea

as a quiet

gift to myself

I hummed

a melody in my heart

to chase away

the clouds

If

We are challenged today 'to write a poem of the possible.' In other words, we should focus on 'what might happen if the conditions are right,' writing a poem which emphasises the power of "if".

My poem is inspired by the youth of today...

If only

If they'd listen,

they would learn

If they'd look up,

they would understand

If they felt the warm sun on their faces,

they would know there's more

If they did not reek of lethargy,

they'd perhaps appreciate more

If only they could taste the fruits of labour,

then perhaps they'd get up

If only

On a whim

Today, because I am exhausted, I choose to postpone my taking up of the daily challenge to another day when I feel that my mind is more able to present better ideas.

Just for today, I choose to write on a whim. Perhaps this very notion is what I will use for inspiration!

On a whim

A song on the wind

called my name;

it set fire ablaze

in my heart

With a bag full of courage

and a leap of faith,

I answered

It answered back

I was carried away

on a whirling wind,

whose call I answered

on a whim

Now I am back,

but my heart still burns;

it yearns to hear my name 

called in a song again

Sad times

Today's challenge seems to have arrived right on cue. I am feeling rather melancholic and nostalgic this evening, and I was hoping for something in which I could immerse my emotions.

The challenge: to write a sad poem which 'achieves sadness through simplicity.' I will do my best to keep things as simple as possible, but I adore using imagery.

We are further challenged to write a sonnet, but after the draining day I have had, I am gracefully going to bow out of this part of the challenge. If you walked in my shoes today, you would understand.

The Sounds of Sadness

It's in the sound 

of a neighbour playing the piano

on a rainy day

It's in the silent embrace

of friends

as you board the train

and wave goodbye

It's the high notes

of voices

as they sing sad songs

It's a muffled giggle

at a silly photograph

as you remember

It's the unsteady beat

of your broken heart

as you try to forget

Points in time

Today's challenge is to write a poem which 'involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time.' A suggestion is made to focus on imagery, sound, emotional content, or all of the above. I love this challenge, so I am going to try and do just that!

My attempt is write about a stroll through my favourite city...Edinburgh in Scotland, of course!

I even pay homage to William Wordsworth's I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (I recently covered this poem with my grade 8 students, so a two-word phrase slipped into my poem. Can you spot it?)

Oh, but to wander

 I long for the manifold days

far beyond the sea

where Curiosities are commoners

and Culture stands on every corner

I miss strolling aimlessly

past History,

sometimes stopping to scrutinise her,

ever wondering what secrets she keeps

I ever wish to stop,
to gaze – and gaze –

 upon the daffodils,

to sip on forbidden sunshine

with the damp green grass 

beneath bare feet

I yearn to turn towards home

as the rain spits on my boots

and in my face;

to perch on the window sill

as I listen to the afternoon gulls,

close my eyes

and breathe the air of Serenity

Questions, questions...

Today's prompt is based on Claire Wahmanholm's poem The Meadow, The River. We are challenged to write a poem which 'similarly resists closure by ending on a question, inviting the reader to continue the process of reading (and, in some ways, writing) the poem even after the poem ends.'

Challenge accepted! Again, I am not sure I am able to meet the standards of the above mentioned poem.

Independently dependent

I found courage in my heart,

but fear in my mind

Yet I stepped out into the unknown,

tripped,

but got back up

and stood my ground

out of defiance of my own doubt

I fell,

hit rock bottom,

but was lifted higher

because I trusted, prayed –

In my independence

I would never be alone.

Do you believe in God?

How to...

It's that time of year again! Global Poetry Writing Month (GloPoWriMo), otherwise known as National Poetry Writing Month, or NaPoWriMo.

I usually enjoy challenging myself with the prompts on the NaPoWriMo website. Today is no exception.

Our first prompt is to write a poem that provides 'the reader with instructions on how to do something'. The prompt was inspired by January Gill O'Neil's poem How to Make a Crab Cake.

Our prompt broadened to include a play on 'the notorious unreliability of instructional manuals,' or a poem 'that tells a reader how not to do something'. Additional inspiration was given in the form of John Ashbery's The Instruction Manual.

I would like to take inspiration from the latter: a poem on how not to do something, but perhaps in a tongue-in-cheek manner. The calibre of my poem is, however, nowhere nearly as sophisticated as that of the above mentioned poets!

How not to procrastinate

When you feel the notion to avoid

any work at all,

keep busy

Write or read or sing

Instead of washing dishes,

Or garden

Instead of sending that email

If you really have to,

fold washing 

while watching a movie,

but never exert yourself

Busy people

are not lazy;

they are active

in every way,

getting things done

at their own pace