NaPoWriMo Prompt for Day 30

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Technically, it is the last day of National Poetry Month, and the last day of the prompts. As for me, I ‘m still working to catch up, and will likely go part way through May to feel like I’ve completed the challenge. But I thought I would at least attempt one of the Day 30 prompts on the right day. Here it is!

The prompt for Day 30 over at NaPoWriMo goes like this: “And now our final (and still optional) prompt! I know I’ve used this one in prior years, but it’s one of my favorites, so bear with me. Find a shortish poem that you like, and rewrite each line, replacing each word (or as many words as you can) with words that mean the opposite. For example, you might turn “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” to “I won’t contrast you with a winter’s night.” Your first draft of this kind of opposite poem will likely need a little polishing, but this is a fun way to respond to a poem you like, while also learning how that poem’s rhetorical strategies really work. (It’s sort of like taking a radio apart and putting it back together, but for poetry). Happy writing!”

I chose the poem I wrote for Day 18, which was to begin and end on the same word. Here is the original:

The Note that Anchors You

La-A

La-A (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

End on the note that anchors you
to your life, to the electric hum,
buzz and inhale. Dance
to the tune in your head
on the tip of waves,
at the end of airplane wings, as you fly
to the corners at the ends of the world.

When you stroke off the last entry
on your not-yet-done list, take
one last journey, go
with a banging of drums. Ignore
the whimper of what you didn’t try:
This is the way your story should end.

Here is my “opposite” poem, more or less:

The Song that Sets You Free

Begin the song that sets you free
from your death, from the static,
buzz and exhale. Walk away
from the discordance in your bones
in the valleys of wake
at the stern of your ship, as you fall
from the centre of the world.

English: An illustration from the Encyclopaedi...

English: An illustration from the Encyclopaedia Biblica, a 1903 publication which is now in the public domain. Fig. 21 for article “Music”. Image of a Babylonian Harp – which had only 5 strings. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When you set down the first entry
on your list of things accomplished, make
the first journey, arrive
to the strum of harp strings. Pay attention
to the wail of what you tried,
This is the way your story should begin.

A Nonpareil of Tarts (poem for April 20)

napo2013button2Day 20 Here is the NaPoWriMo prompt from Day 20. (As always, the prompt is optional). “Today I challenge you to write a poem that uses at least five of the following words:”

owl      generator    abscond    upwind    squander    clove
miraculous    dunderhead    cyclops    willowy    mercurial
seaweed    gutter    non-pareil    artillery    salt    curl    ego
rodomontade    elusive    twice    ghost    cheese    cowbird
truffle    svelte    quahog    bilious

Happy writing!

Clove

Clove (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I managed to use 14 of the words, I think, in this poem. It was the word clove that inspired me to write about a bakery.

A Nonpareil of Tarts

I wandered aimless,
upwind of the bakery this morning, startled
as the door swung open sending the scent
of pies hot from the oven wafting on the breeze.
A squander of clove and cinnamon, fresh apples!
In the window, a nonpareil of tarts, muffins,
and miraculous cakes, each topped with a curl
of fine chocolate.

I passed by twice,
trying to imagine the tastes, elusive in memory, each but a ghost
upon the tongue. I tossed intention in the gutter, turned in defiant
scorn  at an ego demanding a svelte body when just steps away
the prize of salty cheese bread, chocolate torte, cranberry tart,
and yes, that apple pie!

Carol A. Stephen

English: A Blueberry tart

English: A Blueberry tart (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

April 20, 2013

Appple pie

Appple pie (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

April 16 NaPoWriMo Translation Prompt

napo2013button2Day 16
The prompt for April 16 was to do a translation poem.
“Go to the Poetry International Language List, pick a language, and then follow it to a poet and a poem. Generally the Poetry International website will present a poem in its original language on the left, and any translation on the right. Cut and paste the original into the text-editing program of your choice (and try not to peek too much at the translation). Now, use the sound and shape of the words and lines to guide you, without worrying too much about whether your translation makes sense.”
Once you have your rough “translation,” you could leave it at that, or continue to shape the poem. It’s up to you. Happy writing!
You can see the whole prompt here: http://www.napowrimo.net/
I chose a poem in Irish by Caitríona Ní Chléirchín.  By clicking here: Craobhlasair
you can view the original poem and its English translation. Here is the poem I came up with as my sound translation. As you will see, the subject is certainly quite different!

Crabapples and Air

Crabapples

Crabapples (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Rotting crabapples, three
on the table at
night lying alone.
My bowl, agate
marred and dented
at the rim and all,
a mere bowl
and me always searching.
I, down on my knees,
sneezing
in Nice
at dinnertime.
On the right, a tunnel near the sea
a multitude of
crabapples and air. A cabin, three ghosts, choirs.

Carol A. Stephen, April 16, 2013

Poem for the Race

napo2013button2I don’t really have the right words for what took place in Boston. I know I have not come close to expressing the horror we all feel at the tragic attack. My brother, Norm, and I are relieved to know that our own relatives in Boston are safe. Our thoughts and prayers go out to all those who have suffered as a result of this terrible event.

RACE DAY, BOSTON, APRIL 2013

They prepare for the pressure of the long-distance race,
the hours of running, sweat and dehydration.
They run in heat, rain, the early spring dregs of snow,
legs pumping, muscles screaming as they suffer.

Race day arrives in a crowd of runners, each
jostling and scrambling for the best position.
At the start, anticipation tingles nerves, and then
they’re running. Hours later the winners will
cross the line, see their time, know whether
their suffering was worth the pain.

Unnoticed in the crowd, someone will plant a bomb.
There are monsters in Boston today.

Carol A. Stephen
April 17, 2013