April 21- Ready to leave?
Suddenly I’m behind the 8 ball
beneath the wheels,
at the back of the bus
falling, falling further to the rear,
someone’s laggard fanny speeding past me.
I had simply days to forstall
any dawdly instinct, now quickly revealed
that keep me from packing up.
But today, heck, the rushing days find me in fear
and a frantic spree is what I see
Close at hand the suitcase maw
opens into which I place, piecemeal
the bits of living I must reconstruct
from place to place, from far to near.
My trip requires considerable esprit.
I’ll overcome the tardiness of packing
throwing in items sufficiently adaptive.
Although I haven’t exactly followed the prompts in NaPoWriMo, I have written something every day so far. I heading into a particular tight space in the next week — traveling means havoc with my schedule — so I’ve been preparing both wardrobe wise and trying to get my activities lined up.
Packing is pretty easy as I’ve mentioned before, my sisters’ both have copious closets and items that fit. But I like to have my own familiar articles and of course need clothes to travel in! To deal with Chicago’s changeable weather, I’m bringing some layering pieces: short shirts, long shirts and sweaters. And tights.
Here’s an outfit I considered —
For me, the application of creative principles apply whether I’m talking words or wardrobe. The unexpected in both arenas seems to always turn up.
With NaPoWriMo you always get an inspiration if you’re feeling a bit dull. This poem followed the day’s prompt:
April 19 – How to write a poem
The air droops and I with it in the wayward heat
The instructions are clear, to begin with.
I draw my pencil near, ready to apply myself to the feat.
First find your topic, it can be about the seasons,
the weather, dreams, interpersonal relationships,
animals, the color of your socks, what you had for lunch,
monsters, pets, death (oh yeah), sickness, love affairs.
Fiascos real or imaginary.
Children, parents, anything really, plentiful or scarce.
Then select a point of view.
First person, rope the words in your own voice
be front and center, own that poem.
Second person, try directing (or deflecting)
to someone else. Someone you wish to speak to intimately,
directly, without guise.
Your final option is to take on the humor
of objectivity. You will be omniscient
omnipotent to your creation – the everyday
he, or she (the heroic poetic participant)
You can chose to apply rhythm or alliteration.
Immerse your self in rhyme,
schemes are abundant aabb
abab, abcabc, abcddcba, this can proceed
to some unexpected conclusions
in form: sestinas, tritinas, haiku, sonnets
ballads, epigrams, epics, odes
pantoum, triolet, villanelle, limericks,
all in service of the story you promote.
This burly of words, this hurly of rules
the instructions now confusing
push me further from the page.
I pick up my pencil, to walk away.
The first words prick
I set them down before they can escape