NaPoWriMo

I’m way behind again, the furthest yet, and am “cheating” a little bit to catch up by going with only one of the PAD prompts I missed (Day 21) and two from the Acentos Writers Workshop I facilitated today. I’m still commited to making 30/30 by the end of the month, but from here on they might not all be via the PAD prompts, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Prompt: Pick a place and an emotion; personify the former using the latter.

Prompt: Write a poem about a paradox.

Prompt: “Two for Tuesday”: Write a haiku, or write about the haiku.

YANKEE STADIUM CRIED

As its replacement evolved
from good intentions to boondoggle
the House that Ruth built and Dent furnished
looked across the street and shed
no tears, confident that its memory
would live on in the hearts
of the true fans who can’t afford
to embrace something new.

(more…)

I’m falling behind more frequently as the month progresses, but still trying to stick to the 30/30 goal instead of combining a few prompts into a single poem. Every one of my NaPoWriMo poems has been a first draft, but these four are especially so.

Prompt: Pick a color, make that the title of your poem, and write a poem that is inspired by that color.

Prompt: Write a poem with the following title: “All I want is (blank),” where you fill in the blank with a word or phrase of your choosing.

Prompt: Write a poem with an interaction of some sort.

Prompt: Write an angry poem. That is, a poem about someone or something that gets angry.

BLUE (for India)

It’s no surprise you favored
blue over pink from the start,
defining your own identity,
defying easy categorization.

Society prefers labels, though,
requires them to [dys]function,
loves to segregate with clever
wordplay and games of semantics.

When you chose blue and pink
nail polish, alternating fingers
that pick rocks as comfortably
as they draw dinosaurs,

I knew “special” could not contain you.

(more…)

I was stumped by yesterday’s prompt and had to sit on it for a day, so I’m doubling up to hit the halfway point right on schedule!

Prompt: “Two for Tuesday”: Write a love poem or write an anti-love poem.

Prompt: Take the title of a poem you especially like (by another poet) and change it. Then, with this new altered title, write a poem.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

The first time I was unfaithful
I ended up serving two-plus
years in the Army, sleeping
off the hangover from a year-long
fling with SoBe, her exotic,
uninhibited twin sister.

A few years later, there
was the one-night stand,
seduced by Austin, her distant
cousin, twice removed, less refined,
but with an accent to die for and
the kind of inner-beauty fairy
tales are written about.

There were others, including Virginia,
a beer goggles moment I still regret,
and when it was finally time to settle
down, I realized it would never work,
chose the quiet step-sister,
and lived happily ever after.

(more…)

Prompt: Write a poem that incorporates a hobby (either yours or someone else’s).

THIRTEEN LINES

“Hobby” is a loaded word,
literally defined as a distraction
from necessary evils, a pleasurable
pursuit stopped short of sin,
but Monday nights were no more
hobby than a Christian’s Sunday
morning service, the open mic
a confessional, poets, a full-throated choir
inspiring the flock, Maureen, the organist,
playing 13inis like sacred hymns, and me,
at the altar, chalice in one hand,
preaching the gospel of the Word
resurrected from the page.

(more…)

Fell behind this weekend; catching up in bulk!

Prompt: Write a poem about Friday.

Prompt: Write a poem about an object (or objects).

Prompt: Take the phrase “So we decided to (blank)” and fill in the blank. Make that your title and write a poem.

ODE TO FRIDAY

Friday used to be a relief,
a moment to exhale after
a week on the grindstone,
something to look forward to
spending money on, time
with, toasts in honor of
— the start of something
better.

Nowadays, it’s nothing more
than the name of a tacky chain
chain restaurant, a momentary
distraction, barely enough time
to catch your breath, and the start
of the countdown
to Monday.

(more…)

Prompt: Write a poem about a memory.

NOT LIKE IT USED TO BE

Every job I’ve ever had,
I always seem to have just
missed the good old days.

STFU and GBTW.

(more…)

Prompt: Write a poem about either a specific routine or routines in general.

SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER

The beginning of a new
season revives the spirit,
like a clown handing a child
a bright new balloon
that will pop five minutes
after he gets it home.

Being a Mets fan
from the Bronx
requires a thick skin
quick wit, and high
threshold for bitter
disappointment.

Being a Jets fan
anywhere, post-1969,
is simply masochistic.

(more…)