Tag Archives: OctPoWriMo2019

Get Well, Reuben Woolley

Yesterday I wrote about Reuben Woolley, today I’ve recorded a poem for him. I’m going to send the poem to him by messaging him through his Facebook Page. I’m sharing the link so you can join us in wishing him well if you like.

Unfortunately there’s another page I need to share, a medical fundraiser for our #OctPoWriMo host Morgan Dragonwillow. Here’s what she wrote today:
“I fell on October 13th and the orthopedist says I, at minimum, stretched/sprained my MCL and possibly tore it and the miniscus. According to the doc, at minimum I can’t work for six weeks and the medical bills are starting to add up as I do not have insurance. Emergency room was $2200, the orthopedist I do not have a total for today yet but I’m sure it is going to be at least several hundred with the x-rays and this special brace, not counting future visits. The MRI is $525 and if I need surgery, a whole lot more will be added. Of course I have my regular bills, aprox. $800 a month, of which I’ll also need help with until I can start working again.

I do not like having to ask for help, but if you can it would be greatly appreciated.”

You can also help by sharing her fundraiser.

If you want to read the poem instead of watching the video, you can find the original here.

Seasonal musings

Shall I compare thee to a summer day?
One of those blazing hot days when you don’t know where to find shelter?
One of those rainy ones when it’s too cold and too grey for the time of the season?

Or shall I compare you to a winter day?
One of those ice cold days when your breath freezes in your lungs?
One of those sleet filled days when every slope is a death trap?

Shall I compare you to an autumn day?
One of those windy days when there’s no hiding from the sound of the blowing wind?
One of those thunder filled days when lightning deforms everything it sheds light on?

I will definitely not compare you to a spring day.
My favourite season.

Our prompt on OctPoWriMo.com was ‘purple’. I’m obviously off prompt. I’m tired, and I already wrote a blog post for Procrastination Coach today. No energy left to write, I leafed through an old note book and found this one.


Raging, haunting
Throughout my body
Will I be disappointed?

Hurt, broken
Hiding in cast
Surgeon checked x-ray today

My day started with a huuuuuuuge fear of disappointment, I was scared out of my wits that the surgeon would have bad news for me today, at my hospital appointment. Instead, he declared that the healing process looks good.

I’m so incredibly and hugely relieved!!!!! It means I’m allowed to let my foot (well, cast) touch the ground again, 108 days after I fell. It still can’t bear any weight, but wooooowwwwww!!!

This will also mean that my dream of continuing my training program in PSEN this year is attainable, practically. The financial part is still a challenge, but a friend made me this: https://www.gofundme.com/f/be-a-ripple-of-healing I’m going to make it happen, somehow! If you like to contribute you can also ask me for a poem, a painting, or a coaching session! After being physically inactive for months I SO want to get back in the world again. If you’d like to talk to me: angela at procrastinationcoach dot net.

An elevenie is an eleven-word poem of five lines, with each line performing a specific task in the poem. The first line is one word, a noun. The second line is two words that explain what the noun in the first line does, the third line explains where the noun is in three words, the fourth line provides further explanation in four words, and the fifth line concludes with one word that sums up the feeling or result of the first line’s noun being what it is and where it is.

Quintessentially Dutch

I identify more
with riding a bike
than with being Dutch
which makes me
very – very – very

I was able to make pictures of this windmill this weekend, thinking ahead for #ThursdayDoors. But what to write about windmills, to turn it into a post for #OctPoWriMo too? I ended up writing about being Dutch. I can assure you it’s really, really, really strange for me to not be able to ride my bike. I’m in my 16th week of not being able to cycle due to my broken foot, and it influences my life immensely. Basically I’m going nowhere. Can’t walk, so no public transport. Can’t use my foot, so not riding a bike. No car driving either. Luckily people take me out for walks, pushing me in a wheel chair (which I could loan through our Dutch health care system).

Tomorrow I will have to find a way to write about the GoFundMe page a friend set up for me. It’s no use having one if I don’t dare to share it…



Timed out

Broken foot
Broken brain
Broken inspiration

Full recovery of function
Wanted, hoped fore

Statistics make no promises
Time isn’t telling yet

Meet the members of the cast
They’re used to tell time

Blue with a split
Summer time
Warm weather
Warm neighbours
Warm feet

One night only
Beyond repair

Hospital, home
Morphine, fever
Television, sleep

Blue no split
Stitches stitching
Waiting, waiting
The discovery of patience

Oh how this poem bores me!
Does this malarky ever end?
Still no walking
13 weeks and counting
14, 15

Thinner leg
Tighter cast
Still counting
No walking

This poem has no end. My foot is still in the purple cast. I fell on July 2nd, got the correct diagnosis three weeks later, was operated on on September 12th, and it’ll be December before my foot is cast out…

Our poor host at octpowrimo.com has suffered some physical bad luck, which is a very good day to share her Patreon page I believe. On Patreon you can support artists financially, and get special rewards in exchange for your support. Morgan has been hosting #OctPoWriMo for years now, generously sharing her energy and inspiration with many poets all over the world. This is what she writes about asking for support:

Why Patreon?

I’m in the midst of a breakup and I need to move and my finances are limited. Currently my only choice is to move into the shed/cottage/tiny house, in my daughter’s backyard. It has electricity, windows, doors, possibilities. I will have to come up with the money to fix it up and make it livable.


Checking out

Each day I’m exhausted
proud of making changes
fed up with the time it takes

Writing poems
is an act of defiance
protesting the void
reclaiming imagination

Prescription followed

Escaped into creation

Today’s prompt at OctPoWriMo.com was ‘Mother, may I?’. My mum visited me today, so I looked through my notebook to see if there was an unpublished one hiding in there. There was 🙂


For you

tiptoe around the house
wear anger on your feet
when you find fault
crush it
dig your heel in
then smile
“I got rid of that –
for you”

tiptoe around the house
wearing anger on your feet
crushing flaws
‘for you’

OctPoWriMo.com today says:

“The Earth is a fine place and worth fighting for.”
—Ernest Hemingway

Today’s Prompt : Mother Earth

I agree. I’m off prompt today because I’m spending as much time as I can listening to a free summit:

A 9-Day Global Event to Explore How to Heal
Personal, Intergenerational & Collective Trauma

The summit is very on prompt I believe. You can still sign up for it, listen to the talks an download the bonuses. The talks are about individual trauma, collective trauma, trauma through generations, and our impact on the planet. The ones I’ve listened to so far are great. Here’s the online opening event:



I was eating anger by the spoonful, stuffing it into my mouth with unwashed hands, greedily swallowing without chewing, starved of life force, smearing my face, not caring what it looked like, eating, stuffing, swallowing, until I could feel the sadness subside.

I am at peace

Todays prompt at octpowrimo.com was black. It’s one of my favourite colours to wear, and charcoal is a wonderful medium to work with. Even with all these happy associations with black, I ended up writing a darker poem. I’ve written aplenty about depression, so there’s more blackness if you like.

I lost connection

at the pharmacy

while bombs fell

I worried when

you texted me

good things

you’ll miss

in life

the feeling of being alive

seemed to fall apart

beyond repair

the news broke

your last selfie

my train of thoughts


I switched off

your dreams

and apologised

Jane Dougherty wrote a fabulous cleave poem today, for the silence prompt on octpowrimo.com. Hers made me want to try one too. It turned out to be contagious. SMSaves wrote a very good one, called Working Mind Wanders.

How to read a cleave poem?

1. Read the left hand poem as a first one.
2. Read the right hand poem as a second one.
3. Read the whole as a third one.

I guess I could claim I’ve invented a new form, with the title and last line turning the poem into a diamond shape – if your fantasy is rich. I’ve been experimenting with tables before, I suspect I may have written one or more cleave poems before. I’ll search through my site and see if I can add some links or tags, so they are easier to find.

Update: no cleaves found yet, but two table poems, one diamond and one square:
i is a number (I’m not)


I thank #ThursdayDoors and #OctPoWriMo for an important insight I had today. Explanation first, poem next, doors at the end of the post.

This morning I was wondering if I still have doors left on my camera to use for Thursday Doors, since I’m don’t go out much with my broken foot. I live close by a former mint, which has fabulous doors. I remembered I’ve photographed them, but not shared them yet.

My next question was how to use the mint for a poem for October Poetry Writing Month. It made me think of money, because that’s what a mint does: it creates money. Did I want to write a poem about money perhaps? For me money has always meant freedom. I started working when I was 15, and the money was mine to keep, my parents didn’t need it for their household. I didn’t spend it, it saved it because I loved idea of possibilities. With money, you can do things and go places. So those first hundreds of guilders ended up being used for my first holiday abroad without my parents, interrailing through Europe with my boyfriend after I finished high school. It was a great experience, and I think about it regularly and fondly.

Fast forward to me being self-employed, as a coach. I get paid by organisations, and I get paid by individuals. I always struggle with my fee when it comes to people who pay for my services out of their own pocket. I’d secretly feel guilty for receiving their money. I always felt as if their spending money on me, made other things impossible for them. Which made me rather crap at marketing, since it felt like a mental form of robbery.

This morning I understood:
For me: money = freedom
If someone pays me → I take some of their freedom

fallacy alert!

I realised coaching is actually something that increases freedom for people. In the coaching space, people figure out thinks like:
– who they want to be
– who they don’t want to be anymore
– where they want to go
– where they don’t want to go to no more
– which patterns are holding them back
– how they can create change
– how to accept themselves more
– etc.

So even if I’d want to keep believing that idea of money = freedom, they would pay with a form of freedom, to gain a different freedom.

This last sentence might make sense to no one but me, but for me, it made a lot of sense 🙂

I’ll end this line of thoughts with the poem I promised.


Money equals freedom
If mints can turn
paper into wealth
I can mint freedom
Money is just means to an end