This is me catching up, Dear Readers.
NaPoWriMo is drawing to a close and even though I spend much of my time in Dunsinane and Scotland weaving the world's of The Bard, I am still committed to finishing NaPoWriMo 2016. Many of these poem are actually inspired from my time doing Macbeth. And as I wrap up this little corner of my world, and thus more onto other projects, shows, and plans, I will say that every NaPoWriMo has taught me something, challenged me in new ways, and made me realize why I wrote poetry.
I know not everyone is into poetry. Some people only give it a passing glance,or read it once and that is fine. I will never force someone to dredge through poetry if they don't want to. It is here if you like to read others poetry. It is here if you are curious about what I write about. And it is here, . I also write about what is going on in my world, hence why theatre will often show up.
Thank you for visiting. Please keep coming back. I have some plans for Here, There be a Writer, everything from poetry, to review, gripping news stories about French Fries or The Muppets. Let me some love, suggest a poetry topic or poetic form, or just say hi.
I have oe more day to NaPoWriMo, and one more multi-poem post to get through and then the rel work begins. Hope your Spring (or Winter in the Southern Hemisphere) is going well. Happy Reading, Writing, Theatreing...
Day 29 Prompt: Write a poem using "I Remember" and memories to tell a story. I adapted this prompt a little.
I remember the taste of Lemon Ice sorbet,
All lemony and cold
Trailing down my throat
After a trip to beach
Or those freezy pops,
Blue tasted best.
I remember the not quite salty taste
That the lake water had,
As I gagged on the water
After turning somersaults underwater
Too many times to count.
I remember the sunshine
Warming my cold and clammy skin
from the lake water
in moves perfected from mermaids
and the smell of seaweed and sand.
I remember moments
Tides blowing in and out,
Fading with the tide,
Only to return
To remember those times.
Day 28 Prompt: Write a poem telling a story backwards.
All the was left,
Battle cries and blood
When the trees begin to move
And the ghosts are piling up
I don’t know anymore
The owl from the cricket cries.
What plans do you set my Lord?
From Cawdor to Glamis,
I shall seek to known more.