Or NaPoWriMo, depending on which websites you follow. Writer’s Digest calls their version PAD -poem a day. It all means the same thing: April is National Poetry Month. Some of us take up the challenge to write a poem a day, often to a given prompt. Although I am part of a writing group and also signed up with two websites, I pick and choose the prompts. After all, I do have three different ones every day!
Because I’ve wanted to learn more about poetic structure and forms of late, I have been taking a couple of online classes. One deals with short form verse, the other with the basics of haiku. So far, I have learned quite a bit from the former (I only started the haiku class today), including reaching beyond my comfort zone: I hate to bother with rhymes, but a lot of the short forms require rhyming, so in order to avoid getting stuck in cliche, I really have to think hard about what to write… and then, edit, edit, edit!
As much as I am enjoying this poetry challenge, I am looking forward to May already. May is all about short stories, which ought to be a good excuse to empty the proverbial drawer of the not-nearly-as-proverbial partial drafts. A friend of mine from Australia sent me a flyer for a short story competition I’d love to take part in, and I hope to use what I’ll learn in the haiku class to start writing flash fiction, as well.
Are you participating in NaPoMo? Leave me a comment!
Some of you may remember from previous years and postings that at least once a year, I lament the loss of the handwritten communiqué, although I have resigned myself to the fact that there’s just no going back in this digital age. There is one time of the year, however, when all those email rules are firmly off, and that is Christmas. More specifically (or generally, if you will), the holiday season. People who want to tick me off will do well to remember that I find it incredibly rude and lazy to send holiday emails or worse, leave stupid Facebook greetings, especially if we’ve known each other for a while. Luckily, I know there are still people out there who enjoy holiday cards as much as I do, and to these I appeal annually with the Greeting Card Exchange of (this year) 2014.
There are only two rules: if you’d like to receive a greeting card from me, you’ll need to leave a comment below and/or email me your address at email@example.com (I don’t use that for business, so if you’re a spammer, don’t waste your time). Second rule, if you want a card from me, you’d better send me one, too!
Hm, I hear you thinking out loud, I’d love to do that, but I’m Jewish/an atheist/Wiccan/whatever. Not a problem. You can let me know when you write me. I have a Jewish friend for whom I love perusing Hanukkah cards. And I actually believe that most of the cards I currently have are seasonal, not specifically religion-oriented (think snowscapes and season’s greetings).
Ok, you’re saying, but it’s not even November yet! True that. I’ve learned from last year that my postal service to overseas locations is not exactly the speediest. I will be on vacation during most of December and thus have to do a bit of planning ahead. Hence, the cutoff date to participate is November 15th. Please get back with me before then.
Which are not at all “Butterfliegen”, no matter what the siblings Brumm may have claimed! 😉 Anyway, my Facebook readers got this fresh off the press, all others get it now: the latest from the Bad Poets’ Society (including a teensy, weensy change).
If you lay your hand on my belly here
You’ll feel the echo of my heartbeat
Like the flutter of a million butterflies
They look to me for nourishment and I,
I look to you,
The sun in my sky
I awoke as the Sun King today
Burning to claim my throne
Brighter than a thousand suns
Ready to set the bush ablaze
My heart fairly racing from the effort,
I collapse, feverish and shaking,
Into your arms
Instantly repelled by
Your stifling warmth and relentless humidity
But my parched soul yearns for the comfort that
My incited body seeks to deny me
So I pant myself into
The safety and shelter of your embrace
Scorching your linen skin
With the heat issuing from my traitorous flesh
You bear the onslaught calmly,
Your breath a cool breeze on my face
Your hand the soothing conqueror of inflammation
To rest in you
Is to have my troubles vanquished
You, my darling you
On its way to Becoming
A soul made a wrong turn
Veered right instead of left
Or missed the light?
The body it chose, the world it appeared in
Certainly seemed familiar enough
So it got a good start
And was content
Trouble showed early, though it was easy to miss
It loved animals but failed to understand people
(so attested by a teacher in grade 2)
It loved the arts but could not create and was believed to be incapable of logic
(disproven at university)
It was excited about new horizons but could not get
That for most people this meant travel (in the Age of Aquarius?)
It kept finding traces of the promised land in the world
But they were like mist on a mirage (it’s here somewhere for sure this time)
One day, when it was least convenient, it became wise:
it saw that unlike the others it remained aloof
it realized that “you’ve always been different” was not a compliment
it understood what it was like
To be outside looking in
And this amounted to the disappointing epiphany
that there was nothing wrong with it
What was wrong was it.
The butterfly’s wings had beaten
The sack of rice had fallen
The path less traveled had been the wrong choice
But did it despair?
Not until it also realized that it could not go home
It could not leave until the obligation was fulfilled
Signed up for life!
I see it sometimes
Looking a little lost, a little tired
Searching for the song to take it home
Refusing to give up because it cannot
Even as it wanders, stranger in a stranger land
New poetry from yesterday with minor correction from the original version.
Renewed. Here’s the latest from the Bad Poets’ Society (and yes, these are my originals, so if you for some bizarre reason end up sharing, please give credit).
When what you’re going to do tomorrow occupies
So much of your today
That you forget all your yesterdays
That’s Gratitude for You
My heart is so tired, my love
Ever since you left, people have been drowning me with sympathy
I can barely keep my head above water
Please, love, don’t be angry if I just give up and follow you
Besides that, yes, I’m still on meds, yes, I’m still exercising, and yes, it’s still pretty spring outside. DH is currently enjoying fest season in Germany, so I’m here not sleeping and getting cranky about being stuck at the ass end of the world all by myself. Fortunately, all the critters are doing well, so it’s probably just having to readjust to Rufus wanting to get up an hour earlier now. He might want to, but I certainly don’t! If anyone can be bothered, leave me a comment sometime so I can feel as if I’m still part of the human race.