Evenin’ All!

“Today’s (optional) prompt is pretty simple – a love poem!”

from: Day Ten (napowrimo.net)

What came to mind was the complete opposite, set upon the background of the language of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18!  Once the first line hit me, I was on full steam ahead.  You can see exactly what I’ve pilfered and played with by reading Shakey’s original work, here!

A Sozzled Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to this lump of clay?

Thou art more squishy, yet more obstinate;

Rough nights do make me bring home the odd stray,

And you, my dear, are far too short to date.

Sometimes my sense of ‘hotness’ is inclined

To be, by potent beverage, somewhat dimm’d;

And you, not fair of face, in bed reclined

By chance, my lucky streak (it seems) lies trimm’d!

But this infernal headache will not fade,

Nor elephant procession fully oust,

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When will you leave? I cast thee from my house!

So long as men do breathe, I mournf’lly see,

These scrib’lings bestow immortality…

I had a lot of fun writing that. I think watching an X-men film earlier may have made me think about the mean things people say when they don’t think we fit their ideals, because this is not at all the usual ‘voice’ that would come to me when I write!

It is not the first time I have messed about with Shakespeare’s sonnets, I was reminded of this post from NaPo 2019 where I tinkered with Sonnet 27, and this post where I wrote my own poem using the same rhyming scheme as a Shakespearian Sonnet (from January 2018).

Take care, and I’ll ‘see’ you back here tomorrow for Day 11! Over a third of the way through NaPo 2022 already…feel free to look back over this year’s scribblings under the NaPoWriMo 22 category tab.

Monty X

 [pic is from here]

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How do?!

“Because it’s a Saturday, I thought I’d try a prompt that asks you to write in a specific form – the nonet! A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second has eight, and so on until you get to the last line, which has just one syllable.” [from napowrimo.net]

I found myself writing two random poems while dabbling with this one, so I went onto Pixabay and picked a picture I like the look of, then wrote a nonet inspired by that:

My salty sailors went to sea, all                             

Full of hope to treasure seek, and                           

Up blew storms far too quickly,                              

They yelled and prayed to God                                 

to be pulled from the                                                   

waves, brought back to                                                

me: ghost ship                                                              

floating                                                                                

free.   

In case it doesn’t look like it rhymes, I’ve also typed it out below as if it was a ‘normal’ shanty-esque wee ditty 😉

(It has five lines of 8 syllables, and then a 5 syllable line to finish):

My salty sailors went to sea,

All full of hope (to treasure seek),

And up blew storms far too quickly,                              

They yelled and prayed to God to be

Pulled from the waves, brought back to me:

Ghost ship floating free.  

I’m now off to ‘float freely’ into another episode of Dr Who before the kids’ impatience reaches fever pitch 😉 meet you back here for Day 10!

Monty X

 [pic is from here]

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Hi 😊

The prompt for Day 8 of NaPoWriMo:

“asks you to name your alter-ego, and then describe him/her in detail. Then write in your alter-ego’s voice.”

Well, I’ve had a few alter-egos down the years, but my first one was called Lucy, and I described her as “a dark-haired girl, ten years of age and quick-tempered” in the second instalment of the ‘series’ I was writing about her in my tweens. She was also a bit nosy, plucky, and not too much of a goody two shoes, if I remember correctly.

Lucy is my name

And I like to play a game

Where everyone else fails

Only my pluckiness prevails;

And I may be still quite young

But my poetry’s on ‘stun’

From this imaginary gun…

And now my rhyme is done

(‘cos I need my tea NOW, mum!)

To be honest, Lucy was a LOT more ‘Enid Blytony’ than that, but I’ve given her a bit of an upgrade and let her borrow my penchant for strained over-rhyming that I had at the age of ten (until Rennie McOwan read some of my work and sent me a letter in my mid-teens, which  prompted me to dabble in other forms 😉)

I wish I hadn’t let high school crowd out all my stories with its chaotic homework burden.  I might have got somewhere if I’d listened to my characters and not the ‘real’ world…!

See you tomorrow for Day 9 of NaPo!

Monty X

 [Pic is from here]

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Hello!

From napowrimo.net:

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying.

As it is Eldest’s birthday today, I went for a couple about age [Source: https://proverbicals.com/age]

I have read, on that tome called the internet,

“Grey hair is a sign of age, not of wisdom”.

And to think I was quite looking forward

To my Nana Coco days:  more little hands,

Trusting and sticky, wrapped round a rock bun

My gnarling digits had helped them to make;

Dreaming wistfully of reading picture books

To listening littlies, answering questions

About the good old days and explaining

Why dictionaries, landlines, and cassettes

Had their place in the world when I was young,

To more wide-eyed wonder than their fathers’!

Germans apparently say a lot that:

“Old age is no protection against foolishness”

And this one seems to pan out, as I am

Already facing my mid forties and

My newly 9 and 12 year olds do claim

My idiocy gleams daily.  I know

They roll their eyes at the fuss and hug quotient

I deem as gifts.  They educate me on

‘Proper’ behaviour more frequently than

I remember doing for my elders.

My schooling’s not a match to their native

Digital genius.  I’m chopped liver.

And yet many a soggy shoulder or

Wakeful night worrying’s to come, I feel.

I would suspect, hair dyed or no, I’ll play my part

And maybe earn some respect on the way…?

Eldest woke up a few minutes before his time of birth this morning, and I got to hold his hand as he turned 12.  I also managed not to cry!! This meant he was bargaining for YouTube by about 7.05am but hey, he did show me some of his friends’ channels and also had a laugh with me over random videos about elephants messing about, so it was a nice start to the morning!

Eldest opened his presents and then we all watched Iron Man 2 on Amazon Prime together.  Afterwards, it was on to making buttercream icing and adorning the spongecake the boys and I made together yesterday morning.  There is a tradition here of poking chocolate mini eggs into the icing, as we have Spring ‘babies’ (Youngest did the same for his cake 8 days ago, see above!) but Eldest decided he and his brother would also add some sprinkles.  No complaints here!

We got a Domino’s pizzas in for dinner before we cut and sampled the cake.  It was a good meal!

Eldest’s birthday sponge

How on EARTH do we have a pre-teen in the house, though?! He hit double figures at the start of the Pandemic and time has just seemed to do crazy stuff since then.  Feels so weird looking at this kid, who is only a head shorter than me now, and thinking through all the transitions he and I have gone through to get here.  He’s definitely been one of my greatest teachers, this firstborn rascal of ours 😉

Anyway, I’d better go and watch some Dr Who with the kids before bedtime (as always requested) and save this draft until I have time to put the pics on it! Take care, and I’ll return for Day 8.

Monty X

 [pics are my own]

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Good Evening!

On the NaPo site for Day 6, I was tasked with the below:

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a variation of an acrostic poem. But rather than spelling out a word with the first letters of each line, I’d like you to write a poem that reproduces a phrase with the first words of each line. Perhaps you could write a poem in which the first words of each line, read together, reproduce a treasured line of poetry? You could even try using a newspaper headline or something from a magazine article. 

I chose a quote from Percy Shelley’s A Defence of Poetry to start my lines with: “Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted“. Then I meshed it into a poem that seems to say the opposite! 😉

Poetry is my enemy

is my whispering companion,

a ceaseless commentary.

Mirror gazing became a seeking mission

which confused my youth.  It

makes for nothing

beautiful;

that itch I can never satisfactorily scratch

which wakes me, full of verse,

is every blade of pain magnified and

distorted.

I hope you join me again for Day 7 – which may be up a little late as it is Eldest’s 12th  birthday…which is just too scary to get my head around, really!!!

Monty X

[pic is from here]

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Hiya 😊

Again my brain kinda took off on a tangent with this prompt, and I just let it:

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about a mythical person or creature doing something unusual – or at least something that seems unusual in relation to that person/creature. [From napowrimo.net]

I love Unicorns, and my mum is really into dragons, but I decided to choose a less obvious creature for my poem. Half woman, half lion seems an interesting mix, after all 😉

THE SPHINX

All logic-d out

(And dying to pee)

The Sphinx just retreated

And didn’t eat me.

I thought this was strange,

Not what one would expect,

So (impulsively)

I followed, with respect.

Poor old Sphinxy

Just sat in her stall,

Head in her paws

And then started to bawl:

A mournful old sound

that was whimpers and growls,

And some muffled snarling

Into paper towels.

“Oh dear!” she wailed

To herself (and to me)

“I ate him all up,

Now I can’t have my tea!

I’ve such a bad temper

I wish I would think

Through all consequences –

Not act in a blink.

I can’t go on living

As rashly as this!

He’d promised to wed me

And keep me in bliss!

I’d picked out the dress,

And my shoes, and my veil!

My mother will nag

When I tell her this tale…”

She opened the cubicle

(Straightened and flushed)

Washed off the blood splats

Turned to me: blushed.

“Could you not mention this

To anyone?

I don’t want to seem like

My evil’s not fun.

Then there’ll be pitchforks,

And baying for blood,

And that’s so medieval, y’know?

Thank you, bud”

It felt pretty weird, fist-bumping a Sphinx;

Her rep says she’s really a dangerous minx.

But anyway, yeah, I survived her that day – 

And she still looked quite sad, as she sashayed away…

For some reason I see most of the above action taking place in the communal loos from the TV show Ally McBeal…

Onwards to Day 6!

Monty X

[pic is from here]

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How do?!

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem . . . in the form of a poetry prompt. If that sounds silly, well, maybe it is! But it’s not without precedent. The poet Mathias Svalina has been writing surrealist prompt-poems for quite a while, posting them to Instagram. You can find examples here, and here, and here.

[from napowrimo.net]

This one had a mind of its own.  I was listening to trance music on my headphones while I was writing (sometimes ‘busy’ music puts me in a flow state, with a bloom of ‘somewhat clarity’ appearing in the middle of my brain. I dunno, it’s weird…) and the rhyming scheme, theme, et cetera, just picked itself.

I was loosely thinking about the film Practical Magic and the whole maiden versus the hag debate, and my University’s (circa 2002) lectures about Foucault/Derrida/Gender Studies, and about broomsticks, and motherhood, and A Room Of One’s Own, and postnatal depression, and empty nest syndrome, and… 😉

1. Sit in rooms, in the gloom, ‘til it’s already noon
2. Til the grey on display has your head all dizz-ay…
3. Put on beats, indiscreet, tap the rhymes through your feet
4. And begin. It’s not sin to go vent’ring within;
5. To pull out the fake-ed and slake it (while naked)
6. This thirst for a burst of the ragged and cursed!
7. It’s a sign from your soul, you’ve paid tolls – take control!
8. Sieze your pens, wild women, taste your freedom again!
9. The effulgent, as emulgent, is deliciously indulgent
10. You deserve, so do not swerve, go and give your poems verve!!
11. When it breathes, you’ll be relieved that this beauty you conceived
12. Walks the world, fully unfurled, and its inner glow’s a girl’s.

Well anyway…

I’ll see you back here for Day 5!

Monty X

[Pic is from here]

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Hey there!

Today’s prompt from the NaPoWriMo site is a bit complicated:

It’s a Spanish form called a “glosa” – literally a poem that glosses, or explains, or in some way responds to another poem. The idea is to take a quatrain from a poem that you like, and then write a four-stanza poem that explains or responds to each line of the quatrain, with each of the quatrain’s four lines in turn forming the last line of each stanza. Traditionally, each stanza has ten lines, but don’t feel obligated to hold yourself to that!

I have bits of others’ poetry in my head a lot from school and university, so it took me a bit of tapping around to alight on a poem I wanted to use.  I was looking for ‘straightforward’ lines with no enjambment and simple enough imagery that I could rework, etc.

I finally chose the middle four-line stanza of  Philip Larkin’s “I Have Started To Say”.  The theme was easy to expand upon and the lines were pretty short!  When reading about the Glosa, I had also seen that the line lengths are supposed to be roughly the same as the line in the original poem.  I have not accomplished this, but what I have done is made sure each line matches the number of syllables the last (borrowed) line has.  Plus, I did stick to the convention of making each of my stanzas ten lines long. Which was a challenge!

I have bolded the last lines so you can see what the original Larkin stanza said. I’ll let you decide whether the poem I ended up with works ok 😉

Reading my C V

Confronts me with dates

Of past endeavours,

Forces the chill of

Recognition when

The maths is done, and

I really feel the

Weight of all those years

Compound on my chest.

It makes me breathless.

A part of me likes to Peter Pan

(I would assume we’re all the same) but

This feels more existential than that;

Flicking through the official story

Of how I have spent my time on earth –

The employable me, the useful –

So many memories assault my

Inner silver screen. It’s a mixed bag,

But my stomach swoops and suddenly

It’s like falling and recovering.

I am not sure about

Where the fear came from, as

In my mind I’ve embraced

My future Jessica:

A tad nosy, good friends,

Classy clothes, opinions

Expressed politely while

Using my teacher hands

To illustrate my points

In huge gesturing loops…

Mrs Fletcher, though,

Was not blessed with kids,

And seemed to fill days

With more worth than I –

Surface things deceive.

Ask my boys, they’ll say

Mum’s ‘homely’ record

Shows she’s really not

Chartering lamely
Through an empty sky.

Incidentally, I found this tweet and really like it!!

I made this video of Jessica Fletcher memes. Not asking for a medal or anything. . . .#writers #WritingCommunity pic.twitter.com/WbqikDDK9o

— Gillian French (@Gillianfrench13) March 28, 2022

Phew! Well, let’s hope Day 4’s prompt is a little less mind bending!

Monty X

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Hi!

The prompt from napowrimo.net for Day 2 said:

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem based on a word featured in a tweet from Haggard Hawks, an account devoted to obscure and interesting English words.

So I chose from the below:

To GLACITATE is to honk like a goose.
To CROCITATE is to caw like a raven.
To CUCUBATE is to hoot like an owl.
To PUPILLATE is to cry like a peacock.
To CUCURIATE is to call like a rooster.
To CHELIDONIZE is to chirp like a swallow.
To GLOCIDATE is to cluck like a hen. pic.twitter.com/cDS5Afs2EA

— Haggard Hawks (@HaggardHawks) April 1, 2022

and wrote –

I glocidate

To educate,

(I cluck to underline)

My care of you’s

Sincere and true;

I’m so glad you are ‘mine’.

See you on Day 3! 😉

Monty X

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Well, Hello!!

It is the first of April, and that can only mean one thing…the start of NaPoWriMo for 2022!!

So, I dutifully hopped on the site and was told that, for today’s prompt:

The idea is to write your own prose poem that, whatever title you choose to give it, is a story about the body. The poem should contain an encounter between two people, some spoken language, and at least one crisp visual image.

I have been out for lunch today with two good friends of mine, and before that one of these friends and I had walked over 20 thousand steps in lovely sunshine, under brilliant blue skies, casting off layers as the initial chill warmed nicely. It was such a good way to spend the last day before the kids’ Easter break!

But let’s just say: I now have no problem tuning into the story my body is trying to tell me…!

I stood in her garden, let the warm rays play on the lids of my eyes. Got lost in the orange peace, let the road to my right become the hum in the lavender. Others’ narrowing chance at a successful school run faded into murmurs, the faint thwack of a football dissipated. I upturned my chin and smiled, sightless, at the sky until her key turned in the lock; and we were off.

“Courageous”.  One of the many words she brings to my mind, this walking companion. She can rise to any occasion: necessity her tutor, but creativity the spark. “That’s just life, you’ve got to get on with it” she tells me, again and again.  Hers is not like mine, but we validate the differences; and both come out smiling. A supposed generation apart I listen, as she wends us across the miles, to my own subtle clicks and bone groans.  Hear, too, her tell me of her cycling, running, and steps she has taken. I feel the familiar swell of friendly pride, then a chill of inevitability.

Alas, poor limbs, I

Stretched them oft. Still I envy

A Bambi, sprightly.

Yet on we chat; past the fawn and the water, past the need for cosier layers. Around us, toddlers are corralled and dogs lollop on loose leads. Sweeping sunlit strands behind our ears, we speak of age as just a number, but the weight of years is threaded through our talks. Those loved and lost, those best not referred to, those we struggle to part-way tame. Who knows what new voids we will encounter along the way, but walking with my friend teaches me anew that attitude is everything, and we choose what defines ‘whole’.

So there are my first scribblings for this year’s challenge under my belt, I’ll meet you here tomorrow for Day 2! Exciting!

Monty X

[Pic is from here]

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Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!