Day 28: Index 2023

Beautiful! You did a great job Manja!

An Embarrassment of Riches

I’ve been waiting for a good prompt to unleash something a bit special. Index sounds just right. See if anything about this poem seems familiar.

Prompt 28: Today, I challenge you to write your own index poem. You could start with found language from an actual index, or you could invent an index, somewhat in the style of this poem by Kell Connor.

Index 2023

I thought
I knew how to make you, poem.1
I will resist you, pushing through the pain.  
My mind cannot be changed, you understand.2

Yet, this is a fairy-tale and  
it should be told as such.3
I knew a woman surnamed Sleep 
who would not come to bed.4
She wanted to watch
just not by herself
I know how she feels.5
In despair of not being 
she felt like she never was. 
I understand that now.6 Elusive…

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Enclosed

Alone a heart does beat more slowly

Than in a moment of embrace

You at home, your eyes unholy

Alone – a heart does beat more slowly

Tempted, tempered, sweetly counterbraced

A sound. A sigh. A quiet place

Alone a heart does beat more slowly

Than in a moment of embrace

The prompt for #napowrimo day 4 on napowrimo.net: And now here’s another prompt drawn from our archives – and, as usual, optional! Today, let’s try writing triolets. A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet. Beyond this, there is a tight rhyme scheme (helped along by the repetition of lines) — ABaAabAB.

Oh, and painting by me.

NaPoWriMo day 3

  

Bodies of the Living

(Not by Edgar Allan Poe)/

Thy body shall find itself crowded
‘Amidst light/movement in bright display —
Everyone, none absent, revels

Thy most public moments:
Be loud in this multitude
    Which is present — for now

The bodies of the living who lay
    in ossification before me are for the first time
Alive —  and their submission
will outshine me: they are on top of my voice

But the day — now misty — will smoothen —
And the sun will look up,
From under these lowly feet planted on Earth,
without darkness or Despair taken from ghosts —

Still our green roads, spotted,
to my joy will show
cold nor frozen
Which would delete me

Movements come, you do immortalise —
Then fleeting swipes
Tattood on thy body
Quickly — like cracks in dry mud:

The silence — the sound of plants — is screaming —
But the clarity in the dungeons
Stroboscopic, stroboscopic — shattered,
Is meaningless, unmarked —
Unable to climb the high rises
A relevation of revelations! —

  

Original poem found on www.PoeStories.com by Robert Giordano:

  

Spirits of the Dead

by Edgar Allan Poe
(published 1829)  

Thy soul shall find itself alone
‘Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone —
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy:
Be silent in that solitude
    Which is not loneliness — for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
    In life before thee are again
In death around thee —  and their will
Shall then overshadow thee: be still.

For the night — tho’ clear — shall frown —
And the stars shall look not down,
From their high thrones in the Heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given —
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever :

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish —
Now are visions ne’er to vanish —
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more — like dew-drop from the grass:

The breeze — the breath of God — is still —
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy — shadowy — yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token —
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries! —

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A Portable Paradise Prom(pt), a Pernessy poetry collection inspired by Roger Robinson’s poem

Recommended and downloadable!

The idea for the #ParadiseProject was inspired by Gwendolyn Soper who tweeted a photo of one of the hand-written copies she’d made of Roger Robinson’s iconic poem, “A Portable Paradise,” (which she’d given as gifts to family). Mr. Robinson saw her tweet and replied, “You should write a poem based on it also. Use the framework and add in your own biographical details. Try it!!!”

Gwendolyn took his advice and wrote her own paradise poem. She ultimately guided participants in a Pernessy poetry workshop through the same prom(pt). This collection is the result of that workshop.

A Portable Paradise Prom(pt)Download

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NaPoWriMo drafts

Two on prompt, for today and yesterday. I’m too tired to turn them into proper posts. And I’m not participating this year. Excuse my handwriting. I never meant to share the pictures.

Prestigiatory po-em

to say something
that could have been said
clearly
in such a way
that people wonder
if they understand

as they wonder
they come up 
with interpretations
best guesses
associations
and conclude
that was deep
so relatable

to say something that could have been said
clearly
in such a way that people
wonder

using less words
brings out 

What?

For those who wonder what prestigiatory means: https://www.websters1913.com/words/Prestigiatory

Day 2 of me not participating in #naPoWriMo 🙂

The prompt today invited us to visit HaggardHawks “an account devoted to obscure and interesting English words.” Of course I couldn’t resist. When I was browsing the interesting words I pictured myself writing a very intelligent sounding poem just be be able to use such a beautiful word. I wrote this instead – and afterwards found a word that I could use for the title to make me on prompt.

don’t exist

I don’t exist, yet I have a body, Whose limbs gathered together and called themselves mine? Why? What do they expect of me? If they want to be moved, they’ll be disappointed. I don’t exist, I will not move. If they want to be nourished they’ll be disillusioned. I don’t exist. I won’t act. They may want to be loved. Someone should suggest they’d latch on somewhere else.

What if everything is ruled by limbs? A hostile takeover, aimed at creation? I may not exist, yet they make me do things…

Yesterday met a woman who didn’t exist either. could tell by her eyes. asked her: how do you do? She said don’t. sat on the porch and peed.

Why do they? don’t.

I promised myself to not join #NaPoWriMo this year. I’m too busy. Too tired. So obviously, I didn’t write anything and it’s not inspired by the prompt on https://www.napowrimo.net/day-one-4/.

Damned if I don’t

Accepting

The more I think about it

The less I’m able to