NaPoWriMo Day #30: Closing

Hey guys! I can’t believe NaPoWriMo is actually over. Today is the last day, and I am so so happy that I was able to write a poem every single day. Commitment last year was certainly not as strong, so to complete a poem every day for thirty days in a row was wonderful to accomplish. Great job to everyone who participated, regardless of whether they met their goals or not! Some of them I know are: Bernie, Katie, Leah, Madison, and Misty. I enjoyed reading everyone’s poetry this month 🙂 Thank you to Maureen Thorson over at the official NaPoWriMo site who provides us with such fascinating poetry recommendations and challenging prompts. Can’t wait to do it all again next year. Enough of me yapping, on to the poem!


Closing time 

lights are shut off, registers are locked
chairs are turned over and placed on table tops,
money is counted (is it enough to pay the bills?)
heater’s turned off, it’s worth the chills.
Counters are cleaned, windows are sprayed
Goodbyes are said, waves are made,

“see you at 8,” she proceeds to say.

the weight of the day is dissolved
by warm oranges and rich pinks
that infuse the sky.
turning the welcome sign over,
drawing the shades,

and the sounds of work have fallen silent now.

turning the key in the knob,
the click finishes it off.
you unlock your car door,
and the sounds of silverware clinking,
chatter about current events,
the hum of the TV
go off in your head
as you drive home.

And as you turn into your drive away,
you’ll have to pull out of it tomorrow
and undo it all over again.

 

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NaPoWriMo Day #29: Remembering

What do I remember?

I remember when I was three, I saw a spider
the size of a bathtub, literally in the bathtub,
I shrieked and rushed back to bed, my Nana killed
it with a single tissue.
Was that a dream?

I remember Narnia, my love now,
seeing it in theaters at age four when
Hoodwinked was all sold out.
I’m proud to say I saw it then,
even though I wasn’t going to at all.

I remember when I was five or six, unbalanced
on a bike without training wheels, ‘growing up’ but
falling down. Scraping my entire arm against the brick
wall of my house, blood everywhere
and there is still a scar hiding
on my elbow.

I remember when I was 8, on the verge of tears
every day, listening to jeers and taunts
from a blonde haired tormenter. Yelling at her
to leave me alone, the fears rattling inside me.
The PE teacher told me to ignore her,
that she’d stop.
She didn’t.

I remember when I was 10, and I learned my bullies
were bullied.
I had felt so confident when designing the meeting
with my guidance counselor and her,
through​ completely terrified,
my heart ready to rip through​ my chest, only
to sink back down again.
For liking me, this girl would become friendless too.
I didn’t understand, I didn’t believe it.
What did I do wrong?

I remember swallowing myself in books,
no age limit here, illustrating dreams,
placing myself in them. Reading, reading,
reading until I was writing, writing,
writing. My pen the mighty sword,
battling evil that choked my throat.
I’ve stopped that.

I remember being so lonely,
so confused, trying too hard
to not be lonely,
the aching, the jarring reality,
I didn’t belong?
….
I remember eating pretzel goldfish when I was young,
watching Disney’s Tarzan on DVD,
the sliding glass door a looking glass
to the sparkling blue waters beside
the house.

I remember watching Cars in theaters
and falling in love with country songs
and NASCAR, pining to rewatch it,
to find it a present for my 7th birthday.

Escapes from reality.

Why do I remember so little?
Why do I remember what I remember?

To reach inside of me, fumbling through
ripped envelopes and liquid stained
letters smudged on the surface,
burned at the edges, trashed in the corner
besides those framed in elegant glass
with ribbons and golden medals.

It’s a curious thing,
we often remember
some things
because they built us,
and forget others
even though they built us too.

NaPoWrimo Day #27: AAWC Challenge 4 Bright Long Dreams

Today’s NaPo challenge is to write stanzas using very long lines. This is also my entry for Misty’s AAWC challenge (yes I’ve been spelling it wrong this whole time LOL. Go team eagle!)
**Listen to “White Winter Hymnal” by Fleet Foxes when you read this, this was the song that inspired the nature of the poem! The lyrics are kind of dark, but the guitar and beat are kind of a cool background to this haha!


Wistfully filled with desires not yet grasped by my shaking fingers,
there is a forest of century-old trees, with white-washed trunks
and thin branches towering to the sky, cracking the intense blue
that consumes my mind.

My eyes are the reflection of clouds and my heart
is the pounding of a canary’s song, the rush of an eagle’s flight, and my feet are rooted deep beneath the soil, and my arms are outstretched.

the trees become toothpicks with bushels of leafy hair,
the vast ocean of greens but a patch under my sightline,
i am growing higher and longer, leaner and stronger, wooded bones my structure.

I hear a drum beat far off, and i walk toward it. Sing me a song, it shouts
and I open my mouth, and a flock of birds emerge from it with a bouquet of
notes. Chorus after chorus the earth is wrapped in melodies, brightly
colored stars poke through a velvet blanket and the song is complete.

Spinning in a hundred different directions I am going, gaining speed
and momentum to go airborne. Fingers grab the sky and tightly
wrap it like a ribbon in my auburn locks. I run and it runs with me,
undraping to reveal a robin egg’s afternoon.
“Never leave,” I whisper, “Never go,” I say, “Never die,” I shout.

But suddenly spiderwebs etch through its glassy surface, and everything leaves, everything goes, everything dies. shattered crystals spike through the ground around me,
the earth crumbles like sand underneath me, the trees disintegrate and the sky unfolds through my hair. Everything ends, and the dull greyed-out reality begins again.

I am awake.

NaPoWriMo Day #26: Translations

Today’s challenge is a “call and response” poetry style in which you write a call of sorts, and then a response. This immediately made me think of a song my priest would sing every now and then after Mass was over when I was in Catholic school. It went like this:

Little children, do you love Jesus?
Oh yes we love Jesus.

Do you really love Jesus?
Yes we really love Jesus.

Tell me why you love Jesus
This is why we love Jesus: because He first loved me.

And then we’d sing: Oh how I love Jesus (x3), because He first loved me. 🙂

Just made me think of that childhood memory. I won’t be answering this prompt today, but I wanted to share that with you guys haha.

So this came from a sermon in my parish two Sundays ago. It really really struck a chord with me, and I tried to express the main concept being discussed throughout the homily in this poem. I think it’s important we read original translations of text, because sometimes the meaning gets lost more definitely. I’d like feedback on this, if you wouldn’t mind giving it! Had a little trouble constructing the poem, so. 🙂


The English word “love”
looks like one thing.
We often based its meaning
on the words surrounding it.

But sometimes the magnitude
of its message
gets lost in translation.

In the Bible there was Peter
and Jesus questioned him
on whether he loved him
and Peter, confused,
said yes.

But that wasn’t what Jesus
was asking him, contrary
to our eyes as we read.

Agape,
the word from his mouth
agape,
unconditional love.
Agape? He said.

And Peter,
confused,

And Peter,
preturbed,

And Peter,
distressed,

replied
phileo.

Agape,
Jesus pressed.

Phileo,
Peter returned.

And to us,
we only see the word.
A word to encompass all things.
A word ranging from mild to inflammatory,
confined and ever expanding.

Our English text can hide something more important.

Love is 1,000 things and one thing all at once.

And Jesus knows this.

And Jesus asked agape,
and Peter said phileo.

1. “Peter,
do you love me unconditionally?”

“Why, yes Jesus,
I love you as a good friend.”

2. “But Peter,
do you love me unconditionally?”

“Yes, Jesus. You know I love you as a good friend.”

And finally, for the third time,
Jesus asked: “Peter.
Do you love me as a good friend?”

“Yes, Jesus.
I love you as a good friend.”

And the tables turn,
and the telescope
with which you were reading through
becomes so much wider and fuller
and real.

NaPoWriMo Day #25: Deep Breathing

a sphere of complex racing thoughts
tightening you, like a rubber band
suffocating a shiny blue balloon.

strict and square, with sharp corners
you turn the edges of the knife in your
direction, and I have to pause.

Quiet I whisper, to consume the whole universe
with a single breath, to imagine your goal is
to take all the dots floating in the air,
and house them in you.

Grasping with shaking fingers, you slip;
I try to catch you but my hands are yours.
Close your eyes, it will help:
Unless the black veil increases the noise.

Focus, I say. Concentrate, I mutter.
Place your entire attention on the single motion:
breathing.

Life goes in, death goes out.
Life goes in, worry goes out.
Life goes in, everything else goes out.

A relaxed state oozes from this.
Dropping knives and deadlier things,
you fall by the wayside and tumble into
a reality filled with one straight line

moving forward

you follow it.

No longer zigzagged
and resulting in fragility,
we advance as one.

NaPoWriMo Day #24: Opposites Attract

Tried to follow today’s prompt about mix and matching boring words (or words you wouldn’t really use in a poem) with overly interesting ones! 

My fidus Achates you are,
making the plainest of days
feel fabber than fab.

Incogitable is this concept
that you cherish me.

How can you love me?
I ask.

You asseverate your reasons,
but I’m mega bent on thinking
you’re just fluffing it up.

So sure you are, so totally sure,
so confused am I, so cray-cray absurd.
Forever questioning what
you’re forever suggesting,
Am I a lummox for fancying uncertainty?

“The paragon of perfection,” you counter,
but how do I accept that?

People bewilder at how we’ve survived,
where one is so cool,
the other deprived
of something, but probably nothing.

She makes lies in her head
And he knows the truth.
Withal, the spiral is constantly aloof.

Snatched away by excessive insecurities
I don’t see how the spine of this book
is going to hold on any longer.

But you opine your thoughts
on the likelihood of that.

NaPoWriMo Day #23: Ease

For anyone whose AP test is fast approaching and you’re trying to study as effectively as you can. I ask everyone for your prayers these next two weeks as I embark on an intensive review rampage! God bless


The thinking in your brain
is making you insane,
the wibbly-wobbly explosions:
they distract you with commotions
and all you do is complain.

No time for this, no time for that
there’s always this someone is better at.

Push it off until tomorrow,
there’s plenty of time til then
but time wasted now is wasted time again
no matter what truth you bend.

Get the thing needed to be done,
done until it’s over, hone
Check it off your list of things
finished so you can move freely.

You spend that time worrying,
you’re never going to do it,
The due date nearing ever faster,
a train racing at you labeled disaster.

I say, you have two weeks until that test,
why not open the books now?

Why worry you’re going to fail?
Don’t wait until you’re motivated,
don’t wait until you know it’s time
don’t wait ever to get it done,

start now so ease of mind will easily come.

NaPoWriMo Day #22: Earth Day Poem

Open your eyes to the sounds of gushing water,
clear and cool, a glass case for shimmering
thin fish that flicker and dance
and rush with the current.

Open your eyes to bursting colors
of greens, lush with vegetation,
leaves rustle in the silence
and fall quietly back again.

Open your eyes to the pops of red,
and pink and deep azure and sunny yellow,
that stretch wildly, entangled together,
an enjambment of nature’s paint palette​​.

Open your eyes to the mossy swamps
that ooze with lurking creatures,
and mosquitoes​ and marshland,
the king alligator on his bed,
a life of different but equal importance.

Open your eyes to aquamarine shades,
and salty stings in your nose,
danger and survival thrive in harmony,
though these vast stretches can’t be seen
unless you dive under.

Open your eyes to everything,
in which everything is life,
in which–
where the soil is not suffocated with concrete
the air is not suffocated with fumes,
the waters are not suffocated with litter
there is still a home,
even if we’re not living there.

NaPoWriMo Day #21: Transitional

[literally created for the NaPo challenge]

When all of your creativity has been drained
from this inspirational high you’ve been on;

when you haven’t the time like you usually do,
and you want to keep the record going;

when all you’ve left is the topic
you’re currently experiencing to write on;

and though you’re not going anywhere,
the pace is surprisingly slowing;

tomorrow you’ll be back to it again,
your tub of talent will be refilled;

and poetry isn’t a manufactured toy;
the same product repeatedly drilled;
but

now is the time for the dulled and useless,
messy and ordinary
‘it’s almost the end of the day and i have nothing’

transitional poem.