Here is my backlog of NaPoWriMo poems. I know its a lot to sift through, but I always finish what I start. Some of these, Dear Readers, are not the best. In fact, I could have done better, but I was trying to catch up. Iwas also writing on the fly. Sometimes that works really well, other times not so much. I still think I have a few gems in this crop. I at last tried to capture the essence of each poetry prompt in a short amount of time,
Please leave me a comment on which poem (of my backlog) you enjoyed and why.
Thank you, Dear Readers, thank you!
Day 13: Use a fortune from a fortune cookie to write a poem....Not a fortune, but a joke from a Christmas Cracker. Using the haiku form for this one.
What did you get if you cross a cow, a sheep, and a goat?
A Milky Baa Kid.
A Cow, Sheep, and Goat?
Something fun, to make you laugh--
A Milky Baa, Kid?
Day 14: Write a "San San". In particular, the san san repeats, three times,
each of three terms or images. The seven lines rhyme in the pattern
a-b-c-a-b-d-c-d.
Acting Retinue
Reciting the line
Performing out loud
Acting is the game.
To say mine
To play upon sound
And see what you get.
Where there lies fame
In a battle well met.
Day 15: Write a poem featuring Doubles in some form or another.
Mirror image,
I see before me.
Another person,
Palms flat against mine.
Synchronous movements
Will they match?
Slow to move,
A dance it becomes.
As in time we,
Are breath for breath as one.
Day 16: Fill out the questions, then write a poem about the item you wrote down. Easier said than
Almanac Questionnaire
Weather: stormy;
Flora: Silver maple trees;
Architecture: Grecian;
Animal from a myth: Phoenix;
Story read to
children at night: Frankenstein;
You walk three minutes down an alley and you
find: Empty Milk Bottles;
You walk to the border and hear: Doors open;
What you
fear: Being alone;
Picture on your city’s postcard: Little Joe Tower, Clock Tower
Amid the postcards of familiar landmarks,
Little Joe and the Clock Tower,
I am here.
I am looking for a Phoenix to light my way
Down darken streets
And
Alleyways,
Where milk bottles are broken
And doors open and close
To soundless ears.
I am alone
In the middle of a crowd
And the bravery has all
But left me alone in the storms,
Huddled under silver maples
And Grecian column.
But maybe this is all a dream
And I can still wake up
To see the rainbow after the storm.
Day 17: Find a specialized
dictionary, pick 10 terms, and write a poem about those terms.
Catharsis, Flats, Deus Ex Machina, Apron, Prologue, Foyer, Flies,
Backdrop, Wings, Teasers
A story they say,
Within a chorus the prologue begins,
Not just for actors, but crew
In wings and foyers and aprons,
Oh My!
Where rooms become real,
Catharsis unburdened,
Flying in on silent wings
Where Wendy’s house is
And the Beloved Peter’s can Fly
Backdropped into Neverland.
And the teasers hide the hands that make
Fantasy and Reality,
The real Deus Ex Machina,
Exeunt.
Day 18: write a poem that incorporates “the sound of home.”
It’s in a name,
Called out—
A nickname.
A forgotten memory
Of jellybeans,
Oh my little Jellybean.
Not, so little anymore.
Day 19: write a “didactic” poem, something like “How to_______”.
How to Herd Cats (or Being a Stage Manager)
Ever wanted a challenge,
Something to make you think?
Remember that cats do not stay in one place.
The same goes for actors,
When you need they,
Off they wander.
A fruitless task,
Most days.
How to herd cats you say?
I don’t,
I’m a stage manager,
And when I speak
My actors listen.
Day 20: write a
“kenning” poem. Kennings were riddle-like metaphors
used in the Norse sagas. Basically, they are ways of calling something not
by its actual name, but by a sort of clever, off-kilter description — for
example, the sea would be called the “whale road.”
Open Home = Stage
When places I think of
Where I feel most safe,
The open home is one I return to,
Time and again.
Open home is familiar,
Though often is never the same.
First a forest glen,
Or maybe a forgotten island’s shore,
Maybe it’s a heath.
My open home is different each time,
But never am I very far from it’s securities.
Day 21: write a poem in the
voice of minor character from a fairy tale, myth, or story.
MacDuff’s Son
Not much of a chance,
You say.
So little time before
The battle is at your door.
Not quite child,
Far from adult
But hardly afraid.
In that cry
You have been vindicated, Sirrah.
Day 23: write a sonnet. I cheated and am using sonnet I wrote in January (still counts though).
Actor’s Sonnet
When the lights are shining upon the stage
In a graceful ballet of illusion.
The silence is the proceeding mage,
In a battle that the audience won.
Of Bottom’s racing to the wall’s own keep
Where he at last professes his true lines.
Of his love to Dearest Thisby runs deep,
As you laugh at the lovers kissing signs.
Or imagine Prospero’s staff glossed,
Drumming in a macabre dance of storm.
Whilst the boat of royals quite tempest-tossed,
Until is beached upon the sand so warm.
And at the story’s end we do arrive,
Actors bow, hands do clap, we are alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Leave me a note: