NaPoWriMo 2015 Catch-up

Image by Asif Akbar via Freeimages.com
Image by Asif Akbar via Freeimages.com

I’m doing NaPoWriMo again this year, which means I’m attempting to play along with the daily prompts provided at NaPoWriMo.net. Here are a few of the resulting scribbles from the past few days:

Day 1 (negation)

So many mysteries
solved beneath the microscope
except why

Day 2 (constellations)

“On my way,” I say
just as the day fades to night and
Orion suits up

Day 3 (a fourteener)

I have this thing about my mind – I’ve tied it with a string –
like one does with a finger, you know – so I won’t leave it
somewhere careless and be on my way. It acts like a red
balloon some days, tugging at my neck, wanting to fly off
into the purple-gray clouds over the sea. I have to
tug back, tighten the string, tell it “later, we’ll take a trip
later,” to calm it down. We recite lines together to
convince ourselves we won’t forget how to remember, we
stockpile crossword puzzles, practice word jumbles, tell ourselves
we have nothing to worry about. So I forgot one
item on my grocery list, so the stairs looked oddly
familiar, so I’m not sure how I got home though I drove.
So nonsense verse comes quicker than a slick syllogism –
So what – my mind is all tied up, and see, I have this string.

Day 4 (a “loveless” poem)

Meet me at the intersection
of Do and Feel,
We shall drink deeply
from our shared thought
and part whole once more.

Day 5 (Dickinson undashed)

“Hope” is a feathered thing perched, claws curved round the skin of my soul.
(Why “Hope”? I might have thought to call it “Hank”.)
It sing-bleats a wordless tune never stopping,
it just never ever stops (please make it stop),
even in the Gale a sweetly sick singing is heard and
sore must be the storm – you know it’s bad when you can hear that little
Bird still with those same notes that keep going on.
When it’s cold, you need a blanket, not a bird.
When you hunger, you need a crumb, not a song.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land and on the strangest Sea
yet never in Extremity it asked if anyone needed a crumb – not even me.
No, never asked a crumb, never asked, just kept on and on with that wordless mindless tune.
(Someone, please, make it stop. I beg of you.)
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