NaPoWriMo Challenge - April 1 - April 30

[Tzara]

31

Tritina for Trinità

Comune set toward the north and west,
named for the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
It's easily mistaken for a poem

for all Italian villages are poems,
at least to us, romantics of the West,
who see in country life a kind of ghost—

our European roots. A spectral ghost,
one formed by Marx into an lyric poem
whose logic dooms the systems of the West,

a West where poems themselves are merely ghosts.

 

[Tzara]

32

The question, as I lift and touch
my breasts, and see my sagging flesh
remains written on the beveled glass.

Regard My Body as Your Mirror

Do you not trust
my body's obvious response
to your opened robe?

Perhaps I should write
a poem to the loveliness of your breasts
with lips, light teeth, long tongue—

a poem of many stanzas
of varying meter,
one which culminates in an extended envoi

in which I slow and lower
my exploration of the theme,
the better to savor your rich sensuality of tone.

 

[Levitating_Bed]

26/30

Will you be home soon?
The lilac buds and slow bees
Also search for warmth.

 

[Angeline]

26-30

Kitty Hawk, 1995

The first time
you saw the ocean
you walked down the stairs
over the dunes, laboriously
as only a small child can,
and there was the Atlantic,
vast and gray-blue, foaming
to the shore, bubble
and repeat.

You stood with your pail
in hand, in your ruffled pink suit
eyeballing it all with suspicion.

It's too big

you said and headed back
to the wooden stairs.

Everyone else stayed,
but the two of us vacationed
in a small, lukewarm hot tub,
and today that precious memory
makes me laugh and cry.

 

[29wordsforsnow]

29/30 - Wortgewandt

Laundry is like any chore
if you forget it, it keeps getting more and more
​

On Wordplay Wednesday
its eloquent foreplay
picking the right to say
that makes your head sway
from needles in the hay

Hase, Möhre, Osterei
drily dismissed by crestfallen sigh

furry stick-y promise of life?
this only revives holiday stress
of bygone days, my elliptical wife,
but won't loos' a button on your dress

in my own hands' work
I see some chance
so let me play it cruel

Schaukelstuhl
und
Weidenkorb

it's need'ly absorbed
this wicked ref'rence
handed out with a smirk

Soaked up like the cherry juice
unhandily spilled while I spoke
planned like the words I chose
and the following truth I uncloak

I had risen like an early bird,
rushed, washed and rinsed
all of yours...
Looking now for shirt and skirt,
you're perplex, soon convinced
yes, ALL of yours!!!

The list of chores commands,
it's my week to wash, ALL of yours.
Ignoring your choir of comments,
I lay bare, dutiful, ALL your pores.

What has you blushed, ever since
Wednesday's prompts nailed your fate,
'forementioned list's turned into sins,
demand from you, with court's permit:
in your, no matter what, current state,
hang out the laundry, ALL of it

While sitting in my rocking chair,
transpiring the morning's heavy scent
of blueish spring flowered detergent
I notice, subtly smiling, your falling hair
mixed inside the hamper's dripping throng,
coming up with your fave green sarong.

It finds it's place and is joined soon
by more of those, dresses and gowns,
and the idol on my dreams' playgrounds,
hardly beclouding the pale rising moon,
semitransparent, from a souvenir shop,
you ably unfold, when finally I drop

Im Okular des Astronomen

If you just could see your amazed eyes roamin'
when you find out more eyes directed your way.
I wonder if Henry thinks it's a bad omen,
the sudden change in your shadow play.

But you've guessed my game is made for two.
Putting a negligee, a shaking of hips added,
smoothing the crease-free piece excessively,
you feel like winning this staring match of three.
There's no doubt pants or bras here aren't padded,
but, about my next words, you don't have glue

Wäscheklammer
an der Leine

Hands on your hips,
indignant mummer,
your mouthing lips,
"I'm doing fine. Ya?"

I cannot leave you unfulfilled,
so one more hint passes mine

Abziehbild

hand raised, lost in thought wholly,
a clothespin closes ever slowly,
echoed, around the clothes line.

A long drawn-out Oui, chérie
from the left-hand side John's Mary
draws clarity onto your face
as wooden teeth bite into lace

John,
slow with his thoughts
but quick with the whip
better be told which end is the grip
how tight to be with his knots
better be shown...and so on

Mary,
instead,
the smarter head,
met my wife, attending
French lessons, spending
nights after with parlez...

...mostly from seven until late
on the phone or windowsill,
talking about cats and dogs,
baguette recipes or lately quiche,
and the latest from the rumor mill.
Never understanding what they say
because it's French, you know,
but when it turns ten on the clocks,
you always turn red from head to toe.
Curious ever more, I did research yesterday,
translating the talk with 'How To Mate'
and words like plug, collar or leash...

...the same crimson tone showing off now
while all I can muster is a soft-headed 'Wow'
as another clothespin is handled with care,
opened and shut with precise pressure,
firing merry foreign moans into the air,
all John needs is a guide to Mary's pleasure.

The reign's been passed on,
French floods our garden.
That lingerie piece becomes one
good resembling of a porcupine
as Mary, never begging for pardon,
pours words out like the river Rhine.

More lines brought up by the mouth o'Mary,
with no place left to put another,
you fish inside the garment cloud.
I leave to find a dictionary.
'That would even shock the devil's mother.'
You catch a cotton triangle, and I pass out...

and the morale of the story is
if you don't do the laundry
and it starts piling up high,
you'll hear yourself sigh
when the laundry does you
and plies you with bliss​

 

[champagne1982]

Regard My Body as Your Mirror

Do you not trust
my body's obvious response

Even More Obviously 27/30

Your eyes speak of sensual nights
made poetry as we write the ways of verse
with metered kisses and rhyme tongued
with fluid device and metaphorical rhythm
of staccato onomatopoeia and well-thymed
homonym. Word play delights my nipples
even as your fingers paint a vignette
on the alliteratively soft supple skin
at the juncture of my thighs and where
a musky memory entices a reply of prosody.

 

[todski28]

29-30

we gather buts
found in the gutter
rolled them in tally-ho papers
blew smoke rings
with others discarded refuse
as if singing karaoke and butchering
some one else’s song...

Steel girders sway against
the pale grey high-rise
we stagger from within
scattershot reality
we wander from the scent of grass
in new pastures to
coarse wind blown sand

the holes in my memory flicker in strobe light
but somewhere I can feel her kiss
the aftertaste of regret and shame

 

[Lyricalli]

27/30

I'm trying
but I hate everything
I write all sounds wrong
and the blank screen
in front of me
has lines and lines of "failure"
hidden with invisible ink

 

[champagne1982]

Dinner Time 28/30

My tea tastes of honey,
so sweet, and the clean
mint of wild, grass growing
not far from the shore
of our northern lake;
where the lake trout
swam before the net tangled
around it. It didn't die
until the knife sent
its vitals back through
the ice to chum the waters
below. Now I hear the rasp
of baked salt on the pan,
the mallet breaking the crust
and turning it back to grit.
Steam pouring through
the fresh vent brings that
salty tang reminiscent
of the seas and oceans,
birth waters of us all.
My fingers sting with heat
when I lift the crust free
of the mint and marsh grass
layer, that protected
the pink flesh waiting
for my fork to lift a savoury
bite to my lips. When
I close my eyes I see
nothing of my kitchen
and everything of what I taste
and it is beautiful.

(from the Five Senses Thread)

 

[Piscator]

XXVII/XXX

Comfortably Numb

The tooth is out, it was cracked
below the root and couldn’t be
crowned and as I sat in the dental
chair waiting for the Novocain
to kick in, the young dentist asked
how I was feeling and when
I replied “Comfortably Numb”
she didn’t even crack a smile
although it was hard to tell as
her mouth was hidden under
her N95 mask and I realized
we’d skipped a generation.

 

[Angeline]

27-30

Nameless Double Dactyl

Higgledy Piggledy
This writing poetry
Daily is leaving me
Frazzled and numb,

And when it's all finished
Incontrovertibly
I'll have some poems like this,
Silly and dumb.

 

[Lyricalli]

28/30

Hummus

A simple bean
paste of sesame
fresh squeeze of lemon
unmistakable magic of garlic
just enough salt
good olive oil brings it all together

Probably born of necessity
traversed centuries
countries and cultures
to nourish, comfort, satisfy

All that history
whirs in my food processor
to be devoured
with acknowledgement
and appreciation
on the end of a pita chip

 

[29wordsforsnow]

thir(s)ty

fo'
no
mo'
sno'

 

[Angeline]

28-30

April Tanka

Earth opened its mouths
to drink up the muddy Spring,
swallow the new day
as I opened my warm mouth
and invited you inside.

 

[Moochienanu]

28April2021

Flashes

Sparks fly
Your lower lip between my teeth

Hearth light flickers
Your hand wrapping in my hair

Lightning flashes
Your voice growling in my ear

Wildfire blazes
Your eyes giving that knowing look

Embers simmer
Your body and mine becoming ours

 

[Tzara]

33

Three Poems Inspired by Izumi Shikabu

i
We hear a sharp noise
and I pause while within you—

....silence and darkness.


When you urge me continue,
.... I am no longer ready.


ii
Don't ask about him,
she says, opening her robe.

....I go wash my hands
....so to not leave fingerprints
....on another's property.


iii
Afterwards, she sleeps,
her body limp as a cat's—

....I wish we would talk,
....but when she wakes, her soft breasts
....will once again distract me.

 

[Levitating_Bed]

27/30

Eight Beat Mack

It isn't far from here. The best
places never are, it turns out.
You can think of it as a sort of
Friday night prerequisite, if
you like. Lots of folks was tak-
ing notes while the Basie band
was busy perfecting 4/4 time.
Turns out you don't even need
all that brass to get close, to
make that kind of magic; just
enough of anything to make
a downbeat everyone else can
fall in on. And maybe the urgency
of the Man taking back your lease -
who knows how many more times
you'll be able to measure your
life in chunks of 12 to 6 before
it somehow stops seeming like
a good idea? For tonight though,
Someone knows a place and

It isn't far from here...

 

[todski28]

30-30

Not sure anymore how
we should be
with grief and stress and so many ands it’s like this line going on too long

I can’t remember the feel of your lips on mine
as if we’re Penelope and Odysseus waiting
20 years between moments

I know I can reach out
gently run my fingers down you spine
cup your cheek and pull you close
but I’ve forgotten how
in all the mess
I don’t know if you even want me to

as if we’re all fucked up
and the only thing left
is to be an awkward teen
sidle in
nerves frayed
wonder if the risk of shame
is worth the reward

 

[Lyricalli]

29/30

Mom didn't like white azaleas
neither do I
something inherited
in one way or another
made even more ingrained
when they insisted on blooming
in my new front yard
while she was fading away

They had to go
and they did
azaleas in pinks and reds
now in their stead
she would have loved them

Today, a bit of white
caught my eye
dancing in a bouquet
of pink
where it shouldn't have been
a quirk of nature
a recessive gene
or maybe somewhere
mom's just saying hi
and giggling at me

 

[Piscator]

XXIX/XXX

NaPoWriMo

In April with rainclouds of grey
poets gather across the land
to brighten this dark month, they say.
In April with rainclouds of grey
with right words their craft to display
enfolded in triolets grand.
In April with rainclouds of grey
poets gather across the land.

 

[champagne1982]

Turns Out 29/30

I called the loadie over while the C130
writhed through the sky with a belly full
of worn out, hungover groundcrew.
Tell the pilot unless he flies straight
I'm gonna come up and hurl in his lap

Turns out hormones were at work,
the lady navigator wanted to play
and somehow, the aircrew thought
it was ok to risk us all while
she rode that rollercoaster
through the sky at 32,000 feet

Tell the pilot unless he flies, his cargo
will make sure he never gets his flight hours.
Turns out the sky means more than pussy
when a pristine lap is on the line.

 

[Angeline]

29-30

Winter Harbor Tritina

On Schoodic Mountain we are saturated in sky.
Rocky slopes creep by and by toward shore,
gulls soar and cry, boats bob on green and gray.

Our fingers froze that afternoon when gray
mist foretold season's end to cloud our sweeping sky
with storm. We picked our way down to the shore.

A foghorn blew, boats were returning to the shore,
clanging with bells and distant calls as rain fell gray
and changed our day, painted a pallor on the sky.

We ran laughing from sky and shore to shelter from the gray.

 

[Moochienanu]

29April2021

Escape Buttons

The problem with having an escape
Comes when you realize you could take it.
You could say “Fuck you!” to the world,
Stick both middle fingers up,
And get out.

But the thing is, though, that you don’t
At least not immediately.

Even with the button
Huge
Red
Blaring in front of you,
You’ve run out of the energy or the means or the will to push it
Hoping the knowledge of it’s existence
Is just swept into a corner less frequented

But instead,
It sits there.
Taunting you.
Reminding you in it’s little ways daily
That it’s there.
Ready.
Wanting to be pressed.
Begging for it.

So each day, when you gather the energy,
You stand in front of it
A list of pros and cons in your hand,
And you make the conscious decision.

 

[Tzara]

34

She Answers, A Sestina Revealed In A Mirror

Aubade

I want to lie next to you, with the light
breezes of spring riffling the curtains, touch
the pliant skin of your bared arms as dawn

begins to tint your bedroom walls, when dawn's
delicate, pastel wash begins to light
your closed eyes, your exquisite breasts whose touch,

soft along my chest, along my thighs, touched
off that fierce need you satisfied. Now dawn
comes to signal my leaving love's delights—

even at my slightest touch, a rosy flush dawns
over your flesh, your body. I'm brittle as glass,

desperate to stroke and kiss your nude flesh,
caress the length of your sleeping body
as if seeking pleasure in a seer's glass.

But the sun's rays brighten your window's glass.
I must soon go, leave behind your sweet flesh,
with only memories of your body.

But the perfection of your nude body
leaves my desire as transparent as glass,
for I am only crafted of mere flesh.



Note: This was me trying something that didn't really work. I tried to take the end words from Champie's sestina, spilt them into two sets of three, and write back-to-back tritinas, with the envoi of the second tritina at the beginning rather than the end of that section. And do all that in decasyllabics. I think that last point makes the poem sound really stilted, nonwithstanding that I had to make the envois both dodecasyllabic.

Kind of fun to try, anyway.

 

[champagne1982]

phrase américaine en français pour Tzara 30/30

tu chantes une aubade et tu maudis ton salut à l'aube du matin.

An American Sentence in French for Tzara

You sing an aubade and curse your salute to the dawn in the morning.