NaPoWriMo Day 7: Word Games

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The trees are stretching arms above the road
These too-familiar turnings let me dream
Adrift in thoughts that never make a sound

Above glass beach I hear the Puget Sound
The crashing waves that once were called whale’s road
And wonder if a fish can ever dream

From autumn wind, the sky becomes a dream
While naked branches dance, mad with the sound
Of raindrops pelting gently on the road

In dream, I run along the road—with silent steps that never leave a sound.

This one was, surprisingly, not as difficult as I'd anticipated. It's a variation on the sestina, a tritina, which uses a set of repeating words and usually iambic pentameter. Apparently all I write about these days is my hometown, the good old Northwest US of A. Plus, it gave me a chance to be sneaky about my 3rd word. :3

NaPoWriMo Day 6: Magic Berries

On The Making of Magic Pies

For Julia

In summer

when grass dries golden as blonde-bleached hair

she departs

buckets and baskets in hand

for the woods

Under branching roofs

of fir and pine, the day keeps cool

even now

as she walks the secret paths

in search of berries

They run wild

Small cousins to brash Himalayans

The wild blackberries

of summer

She returns brimming

Sun-dappled and smelling of juice

This is when

the spell begins

First, the necessary tools

A pale pink bowl, pastry cutter

and rolling mat

Close your eyes, and smell

the dusty warmth of flour

that puffs

into that afternoon beam of sunlight

Fingertip alchemy

Unpalatable elements, transformed

to smooth dough

and burnished berries

Then, the final step—the oven

barely hotter than the summer sun

She waits

Timer ticking down to when

the spell is complete

In summer

When afternoons stretch as wide as the sea

She gathers and bakes

Filling the house

with the smell

of magic 

My stepmom Julia has always made the most amazing pies, and wild blackberry is the best of the best. I've always admired the ritual of picking berries and making pies, so when the NaPoWriMo site suggested that day 6 be a poem about food, this was the first thing that sprang to mind.

source

NaPoWriMo Day 5: Unwanted Proposals

Go On, Just Ask

“What if I…”

His hand, so much larger than mine—so much

Everything about him was more

A too-hot day, a jewelry stand

Beetle-bright threadbare velvet and

a nondescript ring

we cared about for different reasons

“If I…”

Even in memory, I am

shrinking

Thinking I was a candle

and him a flame

Such violent calm

that moved

a bit of silver and tarnish

from safe ring finger

to danger

There, in that moment, I knew

In that moment

I saw a road

Stretching

I saw

The chapters

delineate like bars

Tears came only

to wash my eyes

“Will you…”

Words hung out to dry

and I

left them

I had never learned

how to fold

Not sure if this works but....here it is! Writing was a struggle and a half today, since I'm exhausted and doped up on allergy medicine. Hurray?

NaPoWriMo Day 4: Cobbling it Together

"Mummified Body of Former Playboy Playmate Yvette Vickers Found in Her Benedict Canyon Home"

Nobody knows exactly how old she was when she died
She lay for the better part of a year
among
cobwebs and yellowing letters
laptop glow permeating the empty space

We must invite loneliness
come in, we say
obligatorily gregarious
a vampire no cross can scare

We become an accelerating contradiction
broader, shallower
vast beyond imagination
incomprehensible
Small enough
to fit in a palm
a pocket
a purse

Instant and absolute communication
yet
preserved in amber
our words, no longer wind
freeze, crystalized on our tongues

"How often do you feel...?"
Fill in your own blanks
Still hungering for response
with a patience I don't possess

Loneliness is slippery
Its mechanisms
forcing our inaction

This mess of human interaction—
a tree-framed bit of skyline
whose profundity we had
underestimated

a room with a small space heater still on
“…I’m your biggest fan, I’d be so touched by your…”
she lay for the better part of a year
incomprehensible
laptop glow permeating
the empty

space

I was reading through some articles I once had to read for English class and I came across Is Facebook Making Us Lonely, and for some reason decided to do a sort of found poem out of it. I first just highlighted any words or phrases that stood out for me, then assembled them in a word document and went to town, rearranging and adding in my own words and thoughts. It's a fun practice!

NaPoWriMo Day 3: Questionable Line Breaks

Small Town

it’s late nights, cold

right though your coats

rubber soles on pavement

pave a heartbeat

scrub a phone number from your arm

and sit on black swings

until you lose feeling

until you lose feeling in your—

ass is what you should think

of him

shouldn’t you?

it’s never August sunshine, particular

color, feel, like dry grass

under your back

like knowing something for sure

the way children know

everything

it’s backseats and backyards and backwards

like missing a train

by one untied shoelace

it’s finally remembering

adventures don’t happen

until you leave home

The last thing you want, but

first thing you need

is perspective

I'm doing my best to get caught up, and once again I didn't follow the prompt. Ah well. Guess I'm a rebel. 

NaPoWriMo Day 2: Thinking of Snow

From an Empty Office in Winter

The day slipping down to slow motion

a blanket statement of snow

barely a whisper under this winter sun

All light and no heat

A smile that doesn’t reach the eyes

Each hour as long as a middle school summer

Stretching out golden and warm

With no context of ending

Or beginning

I was thinking of times stuck indoors, with the heater blasting and no deadlines. I didn't end up doing the prompt for this one, as I wasn't really interested in writing about my family.

NaPoWriMo Day 1: A Lune in the Mountains

Unlikely Stairs

Every day but one

was sunny

Guess which one I chose?

Fog or smog, is there

much difference

when the flowers bloom?

Steps taken toward sky

Weary legs

carry me up, up

To hidden places.

Lake below,

gray sky high above

Dark stone, bright walls—

our journey to

Jeongbangsa Temple

I was given a prompt to write a poem called a "lune", which is similar to the 5-7-5 syllable pattern of a haiku. A lune, however, can be 5-3-5 syllables or words. As you can tell, I went for syllable count.

Bonus: photos from my recent hike that inspired this.