NaPoWriMo 2018 Two Sylvias Press prompt for April 5

Running behind yesterday, so for today the April 5 prompt, which was to start with a personal issue or problem and relate that in some way to nature. I remember fields in Italy in August, masses and masses of sunflowers, and the way they turn always to face the sun.

Winter Imagines Spring

 

Each day the air leaches moisture
draws deeper lines into my face,
the left cheek mapped in dark
spots like small brown
lakes, dry as desert sand.

I imagine a farmer’s field gone
to seed in autumn, all brown
branches and faded flowers—
summer’s beauty just a memory
their petals ground to dust.

Yet, come Spring, see
how the streams freshen. Snow
melt-water cascades
down mountains, pools
in the dry lake beds, the fields
turn green with seedlings, their
faded blooms cast off as new ones
form their tiny buds.

By August, the field is alive again
with yellow petals and dark centres
of each sunflower as it turns
its head with the hours
to catch the sun.

from wikimedia commons under creative commons licence 2.0 Maremma Toscana Date 25 June 2005, 10:57 Source Maremma Toscana Author Giovanni from Firenze, Italy

Carol A. Stephen, poem for April 5, 2018

NaPoWriMo April 5, 2018

NaPoWriMo Day 5

The prompt for April 5, 2018 reads as follows:

“Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that, like the work in Translucence, reacts both to photography and to words in a language not your own. Begin with a photograph. Now find a poem in a language you don’t know (here’s a good place to look!) Ignore any accompanying English translation (maybe cover it up, or cut-and-paste the original into a new document). Now start translating the poem into English, with the idea that the poem is actually “about” your photograph. Use the look and feel of the words in the original to guide you along as you write, while trying to describe your photograph. It will be a bit of a balancing act, but hopefully it will lead to new and beautiful (and possibly very weird) places.

photo credit Norm Swaebe

 

 

Half Human

These branches, their crooked bends
shaped by water, touched by the wind
and river drift
rest here just a moment.

Echo the shape of arms shading
under a tent of tree bark,
a being half tree, half human passing judgment
on us here.

Nothing written in your wood.
Nothing that whispers your name.

 

Carol A. Stephen

 

I used a poem written in Portuguese, which can be read in both languages at the link below.  I did not include it here to ensure no copyright infringement.

© 2011, Karinna Alves Gulias
From: Maria de Graça
Publisher: Editora Multifoco, Rio de Janeiro, 2011

http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poet/item/23326/17172/Karinna-Alves-Gulias

NaPoWriMo April 4, 2018

NaPoWriMo April 4, 2018

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo reads as follows:

“And now for our (optional) daily prompt. Our craft resource today focuses on the use of concrete nouns and specific details, using the idea of “putting a dog in it.” Today, we challenge you to write a poem that is about something abstract – perhaps an ideal like “beauty” or “justice,” but which discusses or describes that abstraction in the form of relentlessly concrete nouns. Adjectives are fine too! For example, you could have a poem about sadness that describes that emotion as “a rowboat tethered with fishing line to a willow that leans over a pond. Rainwater collects in the bottom, and mosquito eggs.” Concrete details like those can draw the reader in and let them imagine the real world where your abstract ideal or feeling happens. Happy writing!”

 

There is no Dog in this Poem

You ask me:
to describe pleasure, baffled
by its abstraction, a simple dictionary
definition equally abstract.

So I ask you:
To imagine the ripest pineapple, its tender
flesh, the intense sweetness as your teeth
crush the fruit, drawing out each
drop of luscious juice.

Imagine heat
the sun on bared flesh, as you
discard the clothes of winter, raise
your face to feel the warmth
of early May on your left cheek.

Imagine cool
a hot day in August, as you
slide into a turquoise sparkle
of a southern sea, the damp sand
and entwined footprints along the whitest beach.

Imagine a Siamese cat
nose tucked under tail tip, curled
in an afternoon sunbeam, humming
its deepest purr song.
You will have my answer.

Carol A. Stephen, April 4, 2018

 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

 

 

NaPoWriMo April 3 2018 Two Sylvias Press Challenge

Today’s Two Sylvias Prompt calls for various things to appear in the poem including a well known college, an old typewriter, a vintage album. And a few more items. Here’s my attempt.

 

April 3. In a few days, I’ll be seventy-one.

 

Still a poet in a small Ontario town.
I remember my first poem written
on a green Olivetti, circa 1960,
(the same kind Leonard Cohen used)
long before typing lessons on an IBM Selectric
with its blank keys and cranky hum.

The Olivetti travelled with me when
I went to U of T, sat centred on my desk
near the radio, blaring tunes from
Rubber Soul, or R&B from Otis Redding.

As I studied I fingered a half-heart on
a chain around my neck, the other half
kept by my steady guy.
As each memory flickers past,

I glance outside, eyes light on the second
spring robin, perched on a speed limit sign across
the street, 40 km limit. No-one pays attention
to the bird or the sign.

A man down the street wields a claw
hammer, forces a For Sale sign
into the still-frozen ground.
A sure sign it must be spring.

Carol A Stephen April 3, 2018