Napowrimo on A Geek's Life

NaPoWriMo 2020 - Day 30: The Thing The Birds Bring

Thu, 30 Apr 2020 10:34:40 +0000

Last day, Yay!!! The prompt for today as this season of NaPoWriMo comes to an end is to write a poem about something that returns. Photo by Zane Lee on Unsplash \\\* The songs the birds bring each spring remind us of the stirring of life, darkness yielding to the lengthening light and cherry blossoms blooming again. Hope is the thing that birds bring that after death comes life, and rebirth.

NaPoWriMo 2020 - Day 29:

Wed, 29 Apr 2020 08:48:37 +0000

Off prompt today:

\\\* After the rising and the falling of the things that surround, after the letting off of blood for forgiveness, after the release of the pressure building up, Breathe

NaPoWriMo 2020 Day 28: Bedroom

Tue, 28 Apr 2020 14:53:48 +0000

Today’s prompt asks us to describe a bedroom from our past, inspired by Martha Dickinson Bianchi’s description of her aunt’s (Emily Dickinson) cozy room. My room in the house on 39th street came to mind. \\\* Long days longer nights rubber balls bounced off walls till smudged, comics snuck under the covers, childhood fantasies of meeting George and the other four of being Super Man and Captain America. Behind all the smell of things lived in. These are the things we can never forget.

NaPoWriMo Day 2: Morning

Tue, 02 Apr 2019 19:51:45 +0000

For the Day 2 prompt, a poem about questions.

\\\* What is this which zips around my ears, its sound like the deep hum of an old man hunched down, stirring up the sand. It shimmers in the morning light its back a splash of gold splayed across the sky, against which stand the silhouettes of great metal tubes bending to its will. What is this but the wind, which goes wherever it wills.

NaPoWriMo Day 1: Prayer

Mon, 01 Apr 2019 19:02:57 +0000

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash. For NaPoWriMo Day 1.

\\\* Fold your hands in quiet contemplation, eyelids shut, pressed tightly together, a wall standing tall between the harsh light outside and the quiet darkness within. Breathe, inhale the scent of home, bread and wine, blended into the memories of your youth, when Faith, child-like, bubbled free. You who have wandered seven hills and seven rivers into a far country, drawn by the lure of freedom but now have had your eyes awakened seek redemption. This is what prayer is, quietly heeding the call of the divine

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 27

Fri, 27 Apr 2018 18:37:33 +0000

For S. Six months.

Beneath the light of the autumn sun, perched on the edge of that seventh hill we quivered in the chill of the breeze, basking in the delight of a promise shared. I walked away with your name etched on my skin, a weight borne in my heart like an anchor in an uncertain storm. Moons ago there was trepidation there,but now like a once floundering ship finally headed home, there is a whole, where a hole once was.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 26

Thu, 26 Apr 2018 19:02:10 +0000

Sensed, for the Day 26 prompt. --- Sometimes joy is the rush of wind past skin, as one finds a rhythm in which feet pound pavements, the sight of the night sky tinged pink, like a splash of paint on a vast canvas. Sometimes joy is the scent of bread on a cold winter day, an invitation whispered on the wings of the wind to hunker down before a fire and be. Whether in the brush of soft breath on skin, the quiet reassurance of a song remembered, heard in the bottom of the soul, and the warmth of spices on the tongue, joy sometimes is, what is not uncertain is that home is there.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day24, An Elegy for the 'Feeble-minded'

Tue, 24 Apr 2018 18:05:07 +0000

Image by M.E. Grenander Department of Special Collections and Archives, University at Albany, SUNY (via NPR’s Hidden Brain Podcast), for the Day 24 prompt. Inspired by Emma, Carrie and Vivian’s stories.

--- They branded them the feeble minded, when all they were were the wronged ones.

Once a face begins to fade into the fog of otherness, doubt begins to assail the humanity of the other.

We wished we spoke for you when they came - before your lives were stashed behind that cordon of red brick

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 19

Thu, 19 Apr 2018 19:46:50 +0000

After the sun, for the Day 19 prompt. --- A lone man stands in front of the bus shelter, his bag slung across his shoulder, hands stuck deep in his pockets, staring out towards the square, at the space where the bus should be.Behind him, four bicycles lie in various states of harness. Before him, the square liessuffused with light. The calm, strange for this time of the day, is broken when as though dumped from an arriving train, a flood of people begins to traverse the square. After that comes the rain, after which it becomes clear that the quiet that came before was only the calm before the storm. Alone, his bag slung across his shoulder he stares. The square lies suffused with light. Calm, strange day. Then the rain.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 18

Wed, 18 Apr 2018 22:47:44 +0000

After Eduardo C. Corral’s Ceremonial, for the Day 18 prompt. --- Here I am lord, crouched behind the door of this sanctuary, wedding dress crammed into a closet, clenched fist clutching a rosary hoping the bite of its ragged edges will bring absolution for this fleeing. Like a dream hovering just beyond the reach of remembering the taste of sugared rancid sweat lingers. This war within, between the ghosts of things once thought and things now heard rages. These thick thighs and belly fat belie the assignation of beauty. Prayer cannot assuage this tumult, this self flagellation. I pinch and pull, cry myself hoarse In deliruim.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 16, Springing

Mon, 16 Apr 2018 20:22:11 +0000

Photo by Ruxandra Mateiu on Unsplash, for the Day 16 prompt. --- Where once we Wrapped ourselves in heavy Furs and coats

We now skip Free, drawn by the warmth of the Reborn sun.

The scent of Daffodils, chirp of spring birds Unfurls joy

Spring has sprung And like children, giddy with Joy, we play.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 15, Cry

Sun, 15 Apr 2018 22:29:51 +0000

– Cry for the riven country. For the ones for whom doom descended from the skies in Douma, spreading death in the wake of its yellow green tendrils.

Cry for the dead and the dying. For the ones culled from the living, whose blood, like a libation rejected pools at the altar of the sixth fleet.

The whine of drones, swish of tomahawks and boom of hellfires pounding earth into tired dust assail their ears, lighting up the night sky.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 12

Thu, 12 Apr 2018 19:33:49 +0000

A Haibun, for the Day Twelve prompt. --- The greyness subsumes everything, water filled skies allied to grey granite blocks defining the sky line. Sometimes, a mist will drift in from the sea, shrouding the city in a gloomy pall. The winds howl incessantly, its fingers reaching through every gap and every crack spreading chill and forcing a quickening of the footstep of all who brave the elements. The defining characteristic though is one of just getting on with it. Sometimes - for two days of summer as we say - the sun comes out.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 11

Wed, 11 Apr 2018 23:07:15 +0000

Image source: Huffington Post. For the Day 11 prompt. ---

Time tinges the Future with death and demise Certain end.

Each day is A war won by birthing the Self anew.

The claws of Time etch themselves in our skin Separating

Desire from Response,bending will to reality.

The world ends Not with a bang but with a Whimper*.

– \* T.S Elliot, The Hollow Men.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 10, Transubstantiation

Tue, 10 Apr 2018 16:46:33 +0000

Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash, for the Day 8 prompt, revisited.

--- Sanctify my body as I pray; with clasped hands, bowed head, kneeling here, before this altar of remembering.

I come for the broken bread, blessed, become shredded body. And wine in urn, become blood, spilt forty times but one.

Sin seethes beneath the surface of this body, this flesh from earth descended, unravelling like a thread roughly yanked from frayed yarn.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 8, Transubstantiation

Sun, 08 Apr 2018 22:33:37 +0000

Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash, for the Day 8 prompt.

--- With bowed heads and clasped hands we come In quiet supplication, knees bowed, flesh unstrung- Hearts humbled, at the feet of the priest For bread broken. Blessed. Becoming crackling body And wine. Slipped into silver urn. Spilt blood. Divine liquid.

Pange, lingua, gloriósi Córporis mystérium, Sanguinísque pretiósi,

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 7, Father

Sat, 07 Apr 2018 22:11:09 +0000

My father looms Like a colossus in my mind His voice, tinged with righteous anger The lyric of my powerless youth But now in my season of adulthood, I see him as he is, A man who tried his very best But was human too.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 6, For The Ones The Genes Took

Fri, 06 Apr 2018 22:17:45 +0000

For the ones the genes took. Photo by Wendy Scofield on Unsplash.

We prayed the Jinns would not take you That when the dust from your fighting feet, and the chill of the terror of the night would lift you would return in peace.

With our knees we ground a hole into the ground from constant supplication, in hope that you would be whole again but the genes would not let up

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 5, Foot loose

Thu, 05 Apr 2018 19:54:49 +0000

Image from Great Inspire, for the Day 5 prompt, only partially fulfilled. ---

Come let us dance our discordant thoughts to calmness, joined by the rhythm of our joyful hearts, and a song welling up from deep within.

Like a bird loosed from the tenuous grasp of gravity’s hold, let us float away. With the spring of defiant Freedom in our steps.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 4, What It Is

Wed, 04 Apr 2018 23:10:26 +0000

For the Day 4 Prompt, a challenge to describe an abstraction with concrete nouns. Photo by Steve Halama on Unsplash --- What it is is something smouldering A tiny reed, slowly taking flame That perchance with time might Burst into a raging flame

What it is is a call and response A place remembered and returned to In a season of despair

In its light one sees the self in all its glory warts and all, and learns the painful truth that one is human too

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 3, Name Dropping

Tue, 03 Apr 2018 20:05:53 +0000

For the Day 3 prompt, A list poem of band names. I fear my choices betray my age (and my penchant for Christian Contemporary Music). Photo by frankie cordoba on Unsplash. --- Six Pence None The Richer for you corrodes my conformity into discordant notes.

On Black Street s, six degrees north of Building 429 a Rush Of Fools Switches foot and stops to breathe again.

DC Talks to the Newsboys Ignoring Caedmon’s Call Until the Third Day when the Second Chapter Of Acts is unleashed.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 2, Home

Mon, 02 Apr 2018 20:02:34 +0000

Snowed in, somewhat. For the Day 2 prompt.

I ache in the winter when it rains. When the wind, like the fingers of a malevolent one probe beneath.

Deep down in a place sometimes lost where memories once lived, lies the linger of disquiet.For forgetting.

Some days the smell of fresh wood wafts in, borne as though on wings of the wind. Then, these bones - aching in the cold - rejoice.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 1, Begin Again

Sun, 01 Apr 2018 22:38:30 +0000

Off prompt for Day 1, Photo by Francesco Gallarotti on Unsplash --- Let us begin again at dawn. With the stirring songs of the Skylarks ringing in our ears, the dappled light of the rising sun, smell of moist earth and the distant lap of a gentle wave calling us. In the shadows of the stations, along this winding tortuous path we have climbed this mount, where like a seed once dead is reborn, we arise again.

#NaPoWriMo18

Thu, 29 Mar 2018 22:26:42 +0000

Offshore Nigeria, back in the day. For the prompt Rise/Set. --- It is now a mere three days to the start of National Poetry Month this year, three years since I last participated. Back then in addition to the prompts from the NaPoWriMo website, I had La Reine and Tolu for company, two poets who are far more deserving of the label. I plan on jumping in this year, the idea primarily being to participate, rather than hammer out high quality poetry. Fingers crossed.

NaPoWriMo Day 30 - Times and Seasons

Thu, 30 Apr 2015 20:42:52 +0000

With time one learns there are no real endings, only times, and new seasons…

--- NaPoWriMo is a wrap for this year, even though I never did get round to completing the Day 14 challenge. Big ups to La Reine and Tolu who challenged and inspired along the way… Bring on 2016!

NaPoWriMo Day 29 - Giving Stars

Wed, 29 Apr 2015 20:26:23 +0000

[ Source]

Four stars for the Chelsea boots in brown; five from Wood, for their soft leather and inner cushion, for how easy they fit his wide feet and how they arrive in time for spring and the promise of new beginnings.

One star from Miles, for how they fall apart; split at the heel after seven months of use; for how they’ll harm your feet, and fall apart as though sawn in two.

NaPoWriMo Day 28 - Bridge

Tue, 28 Apr 2015 23:25:00 +0000

In the unknown you clutch vestigial memories of night journeys and of trains and being surprised by grey granite segueing into lush greenery

but once you cross the Bridge across the Firth of Forth Hope awakens ‘Cos you’re Home.

On train journeys, coming home and the Forth Road Bridge for the prompt for Day 28 at NaPoWriMo, a truly gorgeous sight on a (rare?) sunny November day as I found many years ago…

NaPoWriMo Day 27 - How To Make Small Talk

Mon, 27 Apr 2015 12:05:09 +0000

Pause, On the corner of Kings’ and 23rd North West and smile, let your face crumble like a cookie dipped in spring milk.

Tell her the musky scent of her perfume reminds you of spring wafting in on the wind heady, yet subtle, hardly felt.

Moan about the weather, of snow pelting down like hail of sunshine shoved into a corner by clouds and then nightfall

When you find she’s clutching Chaucer to her chest and McEwan in her bag, read her a line from Komunyakaa: ‘I took seven roads to get here and almost died three times’*.

NaPoWriMo Day 26 - The Leaving

Sun, 26 Apr 2015 19:47:13 +0000

For Mag 267

You and I are sweeping up the shards of something blithely broken, something shattered into a thousand jagged things, by this weight, this unshifting burden of this we, we nearly were.

There is leaving, and then this, Leaving, headed west, chasing closure, across the valley, beyond which there is no returning.

NaPoWriMo Day 25 - Delirium

Sat, 25 Apr 2015 21:42:22 +0000

[ Source]

You feel the fever the morning after the strangers leave, engorged by their suckling of your life sap. The gift they leave is the delirium. Dry skin, heavy head and the shivers; the sense of warped time and a bubble of discomfort They rob the future of the joy of present presence- one dies every minute but for those who escape there is only the burning burden of relief.

For World Malaria Day… And the one child every minute stolen from our future by the disease.

NaPoWriMo Day 24 - Shall I Compare You to a Harmattan Day?

Fri, 24 Apr 2015 21:52:00 +0000

Shall I compare you to a harmattan day? You are far more refreshing, than palm wine. Strong winds do bear the Sahara’s clay But in your shade, is rest divine.

For the NaPoWriMo Day 24 prompt - to write a parody of a famous poem; in this case Shakespeare’s sonnet number 18. Catching up..

NaPoWriMo Day 23 - House, Of Cards

Thu, 23 Apr 2015 22:15:00 +0000

[ Source]

If words were everything We would be halfway To the moon and back, A streak of light, white-bright Against the night sky Driving darkness far away Into the distance Of a forgotten age.

If promises were The elixir of life We would nymph-like never age, Never yield to the chiseling Hand of time, etching its Designs into our very bones.

Word by word they have built up Grandiose things, carcasses that Loom large, Colossus-like over us; Selling us bamboo dust for sandal wood, Trading Hope for the control A snake charmer’s pungi wields.

NaPoWriMo Day 22 - Basking

Wed, 22 Apr 2015 16:25:23 +0000

[ Source]

--- Rabbits nonchalantly nibbling at grass, whiff of daffodil scent, beer-bellied men, bare chested; women, pale armed seeking sun. Spring’s sprung and like moths to flame we bask in its warmth.

--- For the Day 22 prompt at NaPoWriMo; and Earth Day.

NaPoWriMo Day 21 - For Justice

Tue, 21 Apr 2015 17:25:22 +0000

For Prompt #21 at NaPoWriMo - Erasure, and an inexplicably unsettling Ted Talk by the International Justice Mission’s Gary Haugen, even though this probably doesn’t count as an erasure poem.

– I’m not much of a crier- In Rwanda tears just aren’t much help Compassion - cum passio - mean(s) to suffer with Up close to human suffering.

Your first introduction Might have been We Are The World. A mom from Zambia, three kids, Widow, coals on the cooking fire Completely cold, watch Peter suffer, grow cold.

NaPoWriMo Day 20 - Lessons Learned

Mon, 20 Apr 2015 23:38:23 +0000

A bloke can do no worse Than believe his own hype Unless it is to hope That a grand Messianic gesture Might turn the ebbing tide of Love, Where a simple one would do.

For everything there is a time And a season for everything under the Sun But what virtue does Hope have unless She stir in dire times?

NaPoWriMo Day 19 - A landay for parting...

Mon, 20 Apr 2015 17:55:13 +0000

Parting is all we know of hell* Heaven the delightful linger of the touch of love’s spell.

--- For the Day 19 prompt at NaPoWriMo; not quite a formal landay but this will have to do :) *Paraphrased from Emily Dickinson’s My life closed twice before its close (96)

NaPoWriMo Day 18 - Answers...

Sun, 19 Apr 2015 19:27:48 +0000

With these two feet I begin This journey, of probing and inquiry A thousand miles stretched taut Like a string. Losing itself in the Distance between here and there A road untraversed separating This beginning - hallowed ground And that distant pleasure dome.

One cannot escape the lure Of mystery dived head first into, The call of the unknown, enthralling, Siren-like, borne on the wind like Pollen from a flower to its receptacles; A birth,new beginning from wanton waste.

NaPoWriMo Day 17 - Cobbled Together

Sat, 18 Apr 2015 02:42:44 +0000

If you came in late Naiman’s banned from Hearthstone- Attempted to judge this lady in Ten tailored jogging pants.

Fold up the paper map You should get lost This May you can get A lot of writing done

– This has been cobbled together from tweets by @BillSimmons, @DailyDot, @DamiOyedele, @Esquire, @NYTimes and @BLoreWriters in response to the Day 17 NaPoWriMo prompt to write a “social media”-style poem, quoting from friends’ texts, tweets, FB status updates, twitter accounts, and blogposts, and the back of the cereal box on your breakfast table.

NaPoWriMo Day 16 - Questions for *Ella

Thu, 16 Apr 2015 07:04:52 +0000

Sometimes a thing is just a thing with no stakes* And the ardour of a mid summer’s night kiss just a fling, A memory lingering long after the act like shimmer of dusk on a lake.

Sometimes the moment is all there is to everything, A gift to savour, like the sparkling stones a river brings To its delta, ground round by their unseen journey.

When the hoops begin to multiply, and everything becomes a drudge Does it mean the dream has begun to fade, and that our scars and secrets are in the light?

NaPoWriMo Day 15 - Why I Write

Wed, 15 Apr 2015 20:07:21 +0000

Sometimes silence is the song a caged bird sings, the fading echo the flailing of a broken wing leaves, as it creaks beneath the weight of life’s hammer blows.

Sometimes silence is the shrill scream rushing air makes as it leaves a pierced balloon as it runs amok in its death throes before nestling limp like a wet sock and disappearing.

Sometimes pain will break you and the linger of unrequited memory will haunt you, seared as it were in the very fabric of your mind’s skin.

NaPoWriMo Day 14 - Game Theory, A Conversation

Tue, 14 Apr 2015 18:48:12 +0000

A conversation… c. 2009, stumbled upon.

I once had serious game you know.. It seems you’ve still got it man. 3 conundrums? Nah… It’s all seeped off, all that is left now are the dregs. The dregs? Explain! The jaded bottom of the game jar, festering with settled solids. It may be the most potent, no? That would be the strongest, I can imagine. Maybe, but its not available in copious quantities. It has to be miserly dispensed to prevent extreme intoxication. Better for the gamee, no? Maybe, but bad for the gamer. It severely limits the gamer’s options. Options confuse. Pick and choose which gameee u want and then systematically feed her your most potent game. all or nothing. That my dear is a high stake game…works on paper – not necessarily in real life though. Hmmm… In life should you game as many people as you can? Maybe not. Perhaps one should only game the one we think we’ve found, a contradiction in terms maybe? Exactly! So no need to have loads of watery game. I can tell you it doesn’t always work. Hmmmmm. In theory, boy meets girl, he’s interested, asks her out, not hangs in there interminably for the emotional satisfaction whilst offering no commitment. But sometimes you lose, no? Yup - most times I suspect, u lose sometimes. But it’s the ‘ultimate good’ scenario – cos there’s minimal collateral damage. when its all done and dusted – dude takes the risk of asking and losing if required. leaving her wanting more is a risky strategy, in my opinion. yup.. the truly nice guy doesn;t work that way.. if he’s in, he asks, if he’s not he defines the context of their connection and they move on if required…its not even a nice question, I think. That is a Man. yup.. i think so.. that is what a Man and a Woman do…but a boy would play and a girl i think we play along. very true. so….if a gamee wants a Woman and he himself is a Man, then no need to waste time and protect against collateral damage that is my opinion but then again easy does it yeah.. its often easier to just go with the flow.. sometimes I think that women actually want a gamer who does that. who goes with the flow? or who plays with them?. I dont like obscure, undefined, fluid, grey, nonsensical relationships. but then why buy the cow if the milk is free. Hehehehe. which is why i think the staying celibate thing makes sense – never mind what the bible says. it is a waste of MY valuable time. lol… true. and a waste of my valuable LOVING abilties and oh how can u compare women to cows? its called a metaphor – not a simile, however abstruse. I dont like ur analogy. its not a comparison of their structures.. but a comparison of their producing ability. maybe i should have used a tree then. why buy a mango tree when u can get the fruit free. its still offensive…. because the only thing a cow produces is milk., and u are saying the only worth of a woman is what she produces u should want the cow just the cow. But the metaphor is saying the only thing u value from the cow is her milk. u are missing my point.. real dude wants the cow and the milk. raz dude wants the milk only

NaPoWriMo Day 13 - Questions in Thirteen...

Mon, 13 Apr 2015 17:15:02 +0000

Does it pop and fizz, And crackle like a log flame Entrancing the mind?

Does it arrive like Dawn, sweep away the dark night Promise a new start?

Does it intoxicate Like the aroma of sweet wine, Bringing delirious Joy?

Or is it there in the Quietness of steady habits Neither loud nor brash?

Oh that some sage could tell.

NaPoWriMo Day 12 - Bliss in a Bowl

Mon, 13 Apr 2015 08:12:02 +0000

Spice - lemon and herb, sun-dried. Chicken - half, skin crisp. Taste - Bliss, in a bowl. --- For the Day 12 Prompt at NaPoWriMo… Was always going to be about my favourite meal, and table 11. :)

NaPoWriMo Day 11 - Crossroads

Sun, 12 Apr 2015 06:19:19 +0000

[Image Source]

You try to hide your fear behind a veneer of strength, try to put up a facade of calm but beyond the outer strength is the odd tear that slips, unguarded.

You stand bewildered at the fork of the road. Left? Right? Blending into an instructable sameness, certainly uncertain of where your Redemption Days lie.

To the confused, every coincidence is an omen, the whisper of God rustling the leaves one way, or another, but what if like lemmings one must jump?

NaPoWriMo Day 10 - Stalemate

Sat, 11 Apr 2015 08:37:02 +0000

John Sargent, A Dinner Table at Night (1884) Source A t first you ask to talk, but B urning deep within is the burden of words, a C acophony of voices in your head, D riving despair like a stake into wetted E arth, a haze that settles in and just won’t shift. You

F ind a time and place to have the talk, you G o with the flow, tell it like it is, whilst H e squirms beneath the weight of I nnocence lost, guilt like a pall of smoke drifting in. He J okes about not meaning IT, but there is a K nowing that transcends the clarification of intent, that L ooms larger than any image words alone can paint;

NaPoWriMo Day 9 - What Mother Said...

Fri, 10 Apr 2015 04:50:29 +0000

Shed Tears; Let pain like a malevolent fiend- Draw blood. Let go; Let the waves of a melancholic nostalgia break you. Pressure makes you whole again. Blame Fear; Blame Pain, blame sorrow deep within- Still Sing.

An old (anti-valentine) piece from 2010 re-broken for the Day Nine NaPoWriMo prompt… I’d let you decide what shape this calligram represents.. :)

NaPoWriMo Day 8 - For H, Something Stolen

Wed, 08 Apr 2015 16:14:59 +0000

For H - untitled, off prompt…

I said I wouldn’t cry Wouldn’t let the quivering of my lips win, break me.

I said I wouldn’t bend, Wouldn’t sag beneath this weight this unrelenting burden of grief

A harsh wind clasps Me by my throbbing throat Enrobing me in the scales Of its cold, wintery fingers.

Something’s stolen you From me, and all I have left Is hope, that when tomorrow comes The Sun will shine.

NaPoWriMo Day 7 - Money

Tue, 07 Apr 2015 19:31:10 +0000

[ Image Source]

For sixty six and three some quid, Éloi* would have my heart But I’ll be damned if I accede With nary a fulsome fight

--- For the NaPoWriMo Prompt for Day 7, Money; a nod to my current love-hate relationship with work! * Éloi (or Eligius) is the patron saint of metalworkers, and by extension corrosion and materials engineers.:)

NaPoWriMo Day 6 - Morning

Tue, 07 Apr 2015 17:46:30 +0000

Sól’s halo kisses the quiescent sea, its morning shimmer her hello.

--- For the Day Six prompt at NaPoWriMo. Not so much a love poem as a short celebration of morning…

NaPoWriMo Day 5 - Erasing Dickinson

Mon, 06 Apr 2015 05:00:00 +0000

Jacob Wrestling With The Angel, Rembrandt (1659)

[ Source]

A little East of Jordan, Evangelists record, A Gymnast and an Angel Did wrestle long and hard Till morning touching mountain And Jacob, waxing strong, The Angel begged permission To Breakfast – to return! Not so, said cunning Jacob! “I will not let thee go Except thou bless me” – Stranger! The which acceded to Light swung the silver fleeces “Peniel” Hills beyond, And the bewildered Gymnast Found he had worsted God!

NaPoWriMo Day 4 - Love

Sun, 05 Apr 2015 08:18:38 +0000

[ Pixshark]

I have your name etched on my skin, its lines and curves and slants edged in rich, deep black. I carry your face in my memory, nestled like a flash of bright white light saves the sameness of a dark spring night.

Your name is a call and echo, one that I murmur like the repeating melody of a descant; the twang of a bow’s string reverberating in the stillness of the valley air, the thud of an arrow steered unerringly as it rips into a doe’s ribcage.

NaPoWriMo Day 3- For Forgiveness

Sat, 04 Apr 2015 06:36:20 +0000

Forgive me if I disappear here, if like a dying Shooting star my flight expires in a flash of light, yielding To the encircling murk, this shroud that slowly stultifies.

Forgive me if my quivering lips neglect to tell my tale Of broken shattered things and distant pains that still remain And this unyielding weight; of things quotidian and unseen.

Why can’t skies have clouds and stars\* and enthralling moon light too? Why must a pilgrim find his way, on slippery pavements too?

NaPoWriMo Day 2 - Dog Star

Thu, 02 Apr 2015 22:29:41 +0000

[Source: Wikipedia]

The Dog Star flickers, Its garb a rainbow plume The view ethereal.

--- For the prompt Constellations

NaPoWriMo Day 1 - Call Me Ishmael

Wed, 01 Apr 2015 22:30:06 +0000

[ Image Source]

Call me Ishmael.Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sailabout a little and see the watery part ofthe world.It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth. Whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.