NaPoWriMo Challenge - April 1 - April 30

[29wordsforsnow]

27/30 - overly...

shivering in winter's last breath
sneaking up from behind where
the vespertine fire dies down

a few last leaves to pick from the
fresh wounds cut into the garden
worn short stories fallen last year
soon replaced by a hyped remake

mud crumbles to dust thirsty for
dried sweat sticking to glad rags
two sizes of waist circumference ago

a sudden hunger only finds a note
reminding of a plate filled with what
has been left over earlier when it was
proper conversational supper-time

wrinkled peas in smashed potatoes
lost their taste in the microwave hell
absolving from the sin-think of beef

a last perch in the dishwasher to be
birded, adding another tone to the LP
playing soon, and another note about
leftovers, mentioning a bathtub filled

bloody red dye bath additive fading
like memories of an addictive in the
upcoming dusk of The Glow dying

a bit cold, my dear, swears foot first in
the last bubbles that break the illusion
of relief released within long moments
in the depth of a minuscule Caribbean

instead the northerly Atlantic collapses
over the last Ahabian trophy capitulating
to a hook with a string attached bathrobe

a southern contrast suddenly surrenders
soaked up heat from a wall-mounted sun
through the cotton carbon copy paper
straight into the beast's flickering heart

following the yellow carpet road
there's the bold-hearted waving of
candle light at the end of the tunnel

a short welcome to your rightunders
of blazing duvets turns into a spring
of hope that cold shoulders have been
a nightmare of a weary gardener only

reality takes form next to your damp hair
emanating essence of orange blossoms

an invitation to the island of coconut dreams

 

[Tzara]

29

Therapy

The cherry petals drift
into hot pink lines
along the sidewalk outside her house.

When I drive past,
I keep wanting to stop and ask
if maybe she's changed her mind

about us, about me.
But her door is always as closed
as her answer,

so I continue
on my way to that liquor store
in the strip mall just up the street.

 

[todski28]

as if eerie moons are the start
of every melancholy
I wry smile at the poets
preconceived cliche
and start there anyway

because what else is there left to be explored
I’ve loved
lost, betrayed and rampaged my anger
splashed lust up the walls with all the adieu
of a child given a magic marker

broken bones mine
someone else’s
didn’t much bother me
shattered dreams
entered a state of nihilism
wanted to end it all
the pressure of it fathoms deep
suffocating
wanted to release the air valve and watch bubbles
float up to blip to the surface
beneath that cursed moon
and it’s unyielding cliched allure
as if she’s a Victoria secret model
stuck in time legs for days and a grasp
on the psyche that stretches into the decades with you

and here I stand looking at the same moon
grasping for some meaning
on this flying rock

see the sexiness of wanting it to all burn
as if I could reconstruct better from the ashes
knowing I’d fail at that most of all

 

[Lyricalli]

25/30

"But one day I'll be gone
or one day you'll be gone"
-Jason Isbell, If We Were Vampires

Every time I hear that song
or sing along with you
sitting beside
a silent wish floats
out to the universe
that I'll go first

 

[Moochienanu]

26April2021

Somewhere in the middle

Between the lines on sheets
Laid out before, folded, on top of
Downy mattress, slowly sealing
In your scent lofting
Amidst the wreckage known by time
Not before, not after
A flower unopened but no longer a bud
Sits waiting as patiently as possible
For the heat promised
In the tightening touch
Of the place right now.

 

[Remec]

17/30

Mushroom

I thrive
in the darkness,
and the wet,
surviving off simple
bits of that which
has been tossed
aside,
spare parts,
remnants,
offal,
even, on occasion,
reflections of something
grand,
thought provoking,
and, sometimes,
artistic.

 

[Remec]

18/30

A Steady Diet

I like to imagine that I have plenty to give;
at least, more than I manage to take
from those upon whose thoughts I feed;

Thoughts, words, phrases, feelings—this is my feed,
and I ingest them thoroughly until they give
me something to share. A bit of me others can take

to do with as they will, no matter what take
they might have on it, whether they feed
upon it, in turn, or turn away and give

it away. Life is all give and take, so feed me right.

 

[Remec]

19/30

Hare

The flag dropped long ago,
and I zipped along
at a leisurely pace,
too much so,
and now I am looking for
tortoise spoor,
to be certain I am still
in the same
race.

 

[Piscator]

XXV/XXX

Bluefang Micecapades

(Chapter 3: verse 6 - Litany of First Word Problems)

I was trying to stay connected
with my wireless mouse which
keept fading in and out of
black and purple link lacunae,
almost but not quite like
that black holes at the edge
of our solar system and yes
I am exaggerating a bit, then
when I clicked on connect in
the “action center,” the only
action was that my Bluetooth
went awol so that now my
headphones too won’t link
and I must suffer in silence

 

[Piscator]

XXVI/XXX

birdsong chorus
greets the rising crimson sun
joined by cock's crow
grey clouds line the horizon
a good day for fishing

 

[champagne1982]

Every Poem 24/30

This is the first line in which meter, cadence, and scheme begin.
Homeward journeys often start with when; and poetry often ends there.
Every footfall leaves a sound and each hiss of tires on asphalt sing
words to an unwritten lyric that sounds like a choral hum.

So began a poem I wasn't sure I'd write since every start ended
without a certain thought. Ideas took flight before they formed;
phrases were lost before finding the page and that is the death of it.
Still birth of verse and I mourn as if the poem were viable.

 

[Tzara]

30

Yet Another Poem about Sex

Perhaps sometimes I should think about food
or washing clothes, feeding the cat, something
other than women's bodies and fucking.

But what is more essential than fucking?
If one's parents hadn't done it, like, food
would be irrelevant, right? That's something

for one to really think about, something
that makes clear the importance of fucking—
it's like even more important than food!

(Great food's something, though, can lead to fucking.)



With congratulations and apologies to Daniel Kaluuya for the inspiration.

 

[Lyricalli]

26/30



You know that moment
when you hear a song
for the first time
that really connects
or perhaps read a poem
or a passage in a book
and you feel something
inside you open up
taking in this new thing
some form of magic

That's who you are
to me

 

[champagne1982]

Top Shelf Liquor 25/30

The expensive stuff is so far up that a staggering drunk can't balance
to reach for it and safely bring it down. What's she need good drink
for? She can't even taste it with her fried taste buds and coke scarred nose. But Daddy said not to bring that horse liniment home again.

If he's gonna drink distilled juniper mash, give him the refined
southern taste of micro-distillery gin and some quinine-laced tonic
so that bitter becomes desirable and a lime adds sparkle.
If he wanted to rinse his mouth out, he'd choose peppermint

So, Creme de Menthe it is! Mixed with a jigger of cream, Creme de Cacao, makes the grasshopper sing hymns of sweet mint and rich fat
while tipsy on raw alcohol! No wonder the grasshoppers don't save
for winter. Hell, I'm not sure an insect plans on frost and snow anyway.

 

[Angeline]

24-30

Still Mom

How can I help her?
I can't. My child
is forever my baby,

but she is grown
and her sorrows
are a woman's.

There is no toy, no
cupcake, no snuggle
with a favored book

that is an easy fix, no
road to the smiles and safety
that mom love brings.

I must let go, let her be
the adult she is, tell
my maternal instincts

to back off. Leave it.

Shhhh

 

[29wordsforsnow]

28/30 - Born a Queen

given home a dirt hole
heading through rank and file of mice and men
she will stand upright in the roaring crowd
to crown herself​

 

[Piscator]

XXVII

Umami Synesthesia

Frog chorus flavours warm spring night
a gentle zephyr tasting of lilacs stirs the curtains
the top sheet is thrown aside to savour it’s caress
as Jezabel the witch weaves her majic
fingers cup full breast, flushed aureola
freeling the heat of heart bass underneath
a sip of shared gewürztraminer sends surge
of cold electricity up and down my spine;
Her soft kiss unleashes a burst of oral
fireworks, her fecund aroma lighting a path
to the pulsating anemone of her luninousex.
The earth quakes as her petals enfold my
core, as togetherm we become one, our
guttural howls joining feral cats’yowls
as we cry to the glowing full moon.​

 

[Remec]

20/30

Never-never (I)

The sun just rose above the tree
that sits overlooking the tipi,
and I get up resignedly,
time to play my part—oh so prettily--
but it not really a game, to me;

Just a time to smile,
to pretend not to see through the guile,
those boys are pathetic,
the pirates just vile;
and couldn’t I be saved by Wendy
once in a while?

 

[Remec]

21/30

Never-never (II)

It seems people think, as a pirate, you’re a crook;
Even though that’s not, strictly speaking, by the book;
Then, out of nowhere, He
summons me with, “Smee!”
and I am so glad I polished that damn hook.

 

[Remec]

22/30

Never-never (III)


Oh, to find a way home
once more, where I have nothing
but the Royal Navy to worry
about,

No Indians,
No fairys,
No silly little boys trying to show
they can stand against
me and mine;

And, above all else,
No damn flying brats thwarting
my every move and
keeping me from moving
past the tragedy
of our first
encounter;

A grown pirate should not
cringe and shake at
the sound of a
ticking clock.

 

[Angeline]

25-30

Unreality

When I was very young and free
I'd sit beneath our dogwood tree
A book balanced upon my knee.

I'd dream myself in every tale,
A sad duckling, a match girl frail,
On Moonlight Bay out for a sail.

I'd never hear them call my name
For life receded and my game
Felt more real than their humdrum same.

I haven't changed so much it seems,
Life is too harsh, fraught with extremes.
I choose the world inside my dreams.

 

[todski28]

The handle bites into my palm
we do the ceremonial

we share
attempt to celebrate

a sprig of lavender
a photo frame filled
with fragments of stories captured
those who‘ve never seen it
invent a narrative from the character
of the person it was

those that were laugh or sigh

the lap of the ocean waves
is the perfect metronome
we lock step
heads bowed
each man in front of the other

I reside where the weight is heaviest

 

[todski28]

28-30

Watched my boys
my youngest plucked every ounce
of courage and strength he could muster
his Autism ticks were screaming
raging beneath his skin
trying desperately to tear out
in the discomfort
we had meltdowns screaming and fighting
however he was adamant he was going
and so we put him in his suit

my oldest boy was quiet
solemn his intelligence on display
as he quipped and tried to ease
the tension and pain
with unsophisticated jokes that fall flat
I remember he’s still learning
his social graces and forgiveness is
harder than admonishment

we arrive at the venue
and my boys do boy things
run
and wrestle
talk about the beach
stripping to their underware and going for a swim, letting the sand run through their toes

their mother’s tears start
they fall in beside her
try to lift a weight they don’t know the size of

I almost cried because I realised as boys the path
they were going to have to walk to become men

for all the lies society spews about
stoic toxic masculinity

I couldn’t have been prouder.

 

[Moochienanu]

27April2021

Guggenheim

The inside of my heart
Cut in a long strip of form over function
Long walks up ramps
With all of me tilting
A knight to a king on the tournament grounds
I fall into your marble maze,
Atriums opened to the sky
Doused in the red

 

[champagne1982]

He Answers, with a Poem Wrapped
about Some Hibiscus Blossoms

She Answers, A Sestina Revealed In A Mirror 26/30

I look in the mirror's light,
awed by remembered feathery touch
and love made in the dark of pre-dawn.
I am sometimes dismayed by my flesh,
the wonder of my aging body
reflected back in the truth of the glass.

The shadow play ignores the glass
empty now, yet overflowing with light.
The wine was sweet and richly full of body
then my lips opened with your touch;
tongue to tongue and fingers to flesh,
response echoed in a freshened dawn.

The cool wind and warming sun of dawn
colours the day with pinks through the glass.
My window keeps hold of a print of flesh
flushed and pressed against it. Lamp light
limns the edges of my skin when I turn to touch
the night's end, spilled over your body.

Even so soon after we've had sex, my body
yearns for your embrace in the dawn
and I could die from wanting your touch
Like grapes make wine, and sand becomes glass;
so now engrave a hallmark on my heart with light
and with your love, complete my flesh

Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh
a benediction given through my body
when the shine of your smile brings light,
more piercing than the first ray of dawn.
I want to reach out and shatter the glass
that distance has placed to deny our touch

The question, as I lift and touch
my breasts, and see my sagging flesh
remains written on the bevelled glass.
What draws you to desire my body?
The soft rebirth of the sun at dawn
mutes my flaws in gentle light.

With that sweet light, the answer's touch
strokes dawn kindly over my softer flesh
I see my body with delight, through love's looking glass.