Day Nine ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2022

Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “[W]rite a breaking poem. The poem could be about breaking down walls, break dancing, breaking up, or breaking stuff. However you'd like to break it down and then write your poem.” Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “[W]rite in a specific form – the nonet! A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second has eight, and so on until you get to the last line, which has just one syllable.” Today's nonet merges the two prompts in a little ditty about my last dog Blue, who would have loved to escape his leash. I never could get him to heel. This poem is an elegy — Blue passed a couple of summers back. Off Leash At Last For I will consider my dog Blue, soft-coated wheaten terrier, quiet and stoic old boy. Loved to lie in the sun on the patio, dreaming young days running wild, breaking free! —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] On my last birthday, my artist friend Beverly Cassidy surprised me with a gift portrait of Blue and me in happier days, from his last year on earth.             Painting by Beverly Cassidy. Thanks again, Bev! If any of you, friends, are looking for a fine painter, check out Bev's website at Beverly Cassidy Fine Art. Her specialty is pet portraits, but she can paint anything for you! Take a look especially at her portraits of rock musicians in the website. Gratitude also to my colleague and friend, the poet Rachel Morgan, who gave a poetry reading this morning at the Waterloo Public Library in which she mentioned Christopher Smart's poem about his cat, as a lead-up to one of her poems. My opening line today alludes to Smart's opening line, "For I will consider my cat Jeoffry" (from Jubilate Agno). Thanks for the inspiration today, Rachel! Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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Day 24 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2018

Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: "write an elegy — a poem typically written in honor or memory of someone dead. But we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it." Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt is this PAD Challenge's last Two-for-Tuesday, "so today I’m upping the stakes for anyone who wants an extra challenge!" (1) "a roundelay" and/or (2) "an anti-form poem." Blending all three prompts . . . á là Maureen, today's poem is an elegy that isn't quite an elegy or is more than an elegy, and á là Robert, the poem is a roundelay that toys with the abandonment of poetic form. Elegy for Poetic Forms — Or Is It? Yesterday’s villanelle was marred by a clumsily rhymed line I penned. Lackluster refrains broken in shards littered the poem — impossible to mend. Should we give up on forms? So damn hard. But form is all. Gotta go for it, friends! Lackluster refrains broken in shards littered the poem — impossible to mend. This sestina’s six repeating words wouldn’t cycle cleanly to the end. Should we give up on forms? So damn hard. But form is all. Gotta go for it, friends! This sestina’s six repeating words wouldn’t cycle cleanly to the end. A sonnet refused to cooperate — third form to detonate, self-mutilate and -rend! Should we give up on forms? So damn hard. But form is all. Gotta go for it, friends! A sonnet refused to cooperate — third form to detonate, self-mutilate and -rend! But let’s not surrender. Let’s go forward, poets! To our gardens: till, weed, and tend. Should we give up on forms? So damn hard. But form is all. Gotta go for it, friends! —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. To comment, look for a red line below that starts Posted by, then click once on the word comments in that line. If you don’t find the word “comments” in that line, then look for a blue link below that says Post a comment and click it once. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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Day 16 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2014

Day 16. Today is the first day of the rest of your . . . well, not your life, maybe, but the rest of your National Poetry Month. Over the hump. Easy sailing from here. Today, Maureen Thorson suggests writing "a ten-line poem in which each line is a lie. Your lies could be silly, complicated, tricky, or obvious" (NaPoWriMo). Robert Lee Brewer suggests an elegy: "a poem for someone who has died. . . . defined as 'love poems for the dead' in John Drury's The Poetry Dictionary." (Poetic Asides). Here we go, written in twenty minutes, mash-up of both prompts. Elegy for Rotary Dialing: Ten Lies My right index finger misses first joint pain. My ears miss the lovely whir of the rotary phone dial. My nose misses the subtle aroma of oiled gears spinning inside the phone. My eyes miss watching the dial return to start, like an exercise in futility. My tongue misses the taste of ozone in the air around the phone. My sleeping self misses the bright glow of the Princess phone dial at night. My waking self misses the huge round eye of the phone staring by day. My brain misses the phone dial flying like a UFO in the living room. My body misses riding the magically expanded phone dial like a flying carpet. My heart misses rotary dialing like my teeth miss root canals. —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] And now on to Alan's poem today. Alan says, "'There is a taint of death, a flavour of mortality in lies — which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world — what I want to forget,' says Marlow in Conrad's Heart of Darkness, so as I combine the prompts (mashing up the elegy requirement with the requirement to write a ten-line poem with a lie in each line), I instead intend to equivocate. Here I offer an all-purpose elegy for somebody you don't like; feel free to take any of the lines and use them during uncomfortable conversation lulls during the associated events." All-Purpose Elegy for Somebody You Don’t Like I can't think up enough good things to say. I always laugh whenever you're in mind. I can't imagine how you could improve. I'd never match your best accomplishments. You had a smile that no one could forget. I don't meet people like you every day. Not everyone can claim your fashion sense. I always thought your best years were ahead. How could a person ever plumb your soul? You've left behind a space we'll never fill. —Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes     [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] That's hilarious, Alan! I know your best years are still ahead.   ヅ Won't you comment, please, friends? To make a comment, look for a blue link below that says Post a comment; if you don't see that, look in the red line that starts Posted by Vince and click on the word comments. Ingat, everyone.   ヅ

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