snowdrops

NaPoWriMo Day 17

A Bad Sonnet on Terrible First Drafts By Holly Ordway These words – they won’t amount to anything. Blather, rambling, a bloviating waste Of everybody’s time. What made me think This was a good idea? It surely wasn’t. It really was a bad idea. The worst. Remember how you always hate your draft – Every…

Image by Becka Choat

NaPoWriMo Day 16

How Calming By Becka Choat How calming, the woods: sun-spangled shade, tangled roots, unexhausted earth. [A found poem from Chaim Potok’s Old Men at Midnight.] ***** Becka Choat is a lifelong lover of words who spends many hours each week in a room of her own, writing or reading and drinking coffee. Her book reviews can…

Image by Bethany Rohde

NaPoWriMo Day 15

Journal By Bethany Rohde It was a gift from my husband when I started to write: My only journal of peacock blue, with gilded scrolling and antique clasps. It sits on my white-washed shelf in danger– not of being filled with unworthy ramblings, but of remaining untouched till it’s handed down. ******* A writer from…

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NaPoWriMo Day 11

Play on Words By Holly Ordway Beside my bed – when I was four or five – There stood a white magnetic board, with letters, Brightly colored, that I could touch and move In any pattern that I liked – a language Of shapes before I knew the words, arrayed Across the first blank page…

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NaPoWriMo Day 9

Palinode by Holly Ordway All the poems I thought of, but didn’t write Crowd like ghosts at the heels of my unamused Muse: The hackneyed phrases, the ideas that almost worked, The grandiose schemes that had no real merit. Let them go, these squeaking regretful fragments, Let them settle into the scrap-heap of words, Let…

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NaPoWriMo Day 8

Day 7 – The tip toast sweat and crumbs on a plain white plate – mug coffee stained, a smudge of ruby red lip left behind – two shiny pennies   Day 8 – I take it back You know how I said I’d never write you a poem? Forget about it.     [As…

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NaPoWriMo Day 7

Too Late Now (a “fourteener”) By Becka Choat It is too late now not to see and touch and taste and know the wonder and the ecstasy, the piercing and the woe, the having and the holding and the time for letting go. It is too late now not to see and touch and taste…