Today's prompt from napowrimo.net is "to write a poem that deals with the poems, poets, and other people who inspired you to write poems." Your 95th Birthday
10 year old me listens, enthralled as standing tall, hands folded a schoolgirl inside you recite a poem of the Titanic For years now all through school I imagined you who lived to 102 and the age you were at each historic event to place time in my mind only now to realize when the Titanic went down you were 14 hearing of a world freezing slow into slumber even as you rose up from the birthing waters of childhood into adolescence I still search for the poem. For today I've written a riddle. Please give the answer a guess via the Contact Us page if you would like! If the blossom's a mussel
I am a pearl a lustrous treasure of life for the world. The following poem is written in response to this prompt, which you can find at http://www.napowrimo.net/ : "write a poem based on an image from a dream. "
When my eyes opened the grief closed in cold tears freezing me to the bed frame if I tried to pull free I'd bleed You were dead. I had seen you your skin cold ivory your lips blue abyss The mocking sunrise held no warmth til your text's touch melted me free. The following poem is written in response to this prompt, which you can find at http://www.napowrimo.net/ : "write a poem about a specific place — a particular house or store or school or office. Try to incorporate concrete details..." My castle was an evergreen
at the corner of our house a pine with a special branch all my own The branch was my turret from which I could behold all the realm of fairy lawn wonder's home Each dewdrop on the grass a sprite each dandelion a school for children quite as small as seeds to learn each sunbeam's hue I would descend the staircase of needley spiral boughs to sit on scented carpet and read to princes two It's the first day of NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo!
The following poem is written in response to this prompt, which you can find at http://www.napowrimo.net/ : "write a self-portrait poem in which you make a specific action a metaphor for your life – one that typically isn’t done all that often, or only in specific circumstances. For example, bowling, or shopping for socks, or shoveling snow, or teaching a child to tie shoes." I am the pull of the kite string the yearning to soar beyond to dance in my dreams the fleeing the ground the longing to leave it behind. Sometimes a little hand who understands holds on tight to fly with me. Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is "to draft a prose poem in the form/style of a postcard." Dear little Lucille,
By the time you are old enough to read this, it is my heart's longing that you and I are tea and sugar, pouring the aura of wonder and warm belonging into one another's lives. I long to see you giggle uncontrollably with my Ana, to see you dance for joy with my Eric. I long to see you all three rolling through the garden until you dog-pile with exhausted fullness. I long to read to you all on my knees and in my lap, and even more to let my cup overflow with your own stories. But we're an ocean away - I know how that ocean can become a wall, no less separating being water and not stone, a subtle conqueror ... the moment you catch a glimpse through the mist and spray, it swirls again in front of you. You'll have so many others in your life, you'll have no need of us...we with our words and day-to-days foreign to yours. You'll barely see our faces ...once every two years... who knows. All this rains down on me. You've barely stepped out of your cocoon and already it seems you've flown beyond our sight. Is the best I can hope you'll have heard of my name? No. I'll write again soon... I am so thankful for today's NaPoWriMo prompt: "Today, we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy – a poem typically written in honor or memory of someone dead. But we’d like to challenge you to write an elegy that has a hopefulness to it." It gives me the treasured opportunity to share the baby I always remember and the hope anchored in my heart through my baby's life. Following are the poem I wrote as I grieved being separated from my baby and the poem I write today... Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Our Baby We loved you from the first, hardly believing our blessing. From two, we now were three! What was to come we did no know. You were with me always, a miracle wrapped up close… But one of those moments you slipped away and we did not know. Your daddy spoke to you, gently, with excited joy. You were already gone, but we did not know. I played my harp for you, wondering when your ears could hear. You were already gone, but we did not know. We hoped and prayed for you, waiting to hear your heartbeat. My womb was already a tomb, but we did not know. Will we one day be with you? hear your heart and see your smile? My heart, not knowing, weeps. But I know God knows. Tuesday, April 24, 2018 Our Baby ...and only God knew how I would hear you in your sister's song and hold you in your rose blossom placed in her golden curls how I would feel you in your brother's kiss and smell you in his milk-sweet skin you are forever cradled Today's NaPoWriMo prompt: “when you hear it, you write it down.” Today, we challenge you to honor this idea with a poem based in sound. "I will rock you, my Ana, in dawn's early light
I will rock you, my Ana, deep into the night I will rock you, my baby, in my heart all my life..." I wrote this for you when you were still inside me ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I wrote this for you, Mama, when you were a tiny baby "This is your song This is your song..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You are the song my soul marvels at, the one I could never have thought of on my own. Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is "to write a poem that prominently features the idea of play. It could be a poem about a sport or game, a poem about people who play (or are playing a game), or even a poem in the form of the rules for a sport or game that you’ve just made up (sort of like Calvinball)." (http://www.napowrimo.net/) Playing Catch He catches my kiss on the palm of his hand
one on his gumdrop nose one on his neck, thrown back laughing one on his elf-point ear one in the curve of his toes He catches my eye all the time once in his awe at the snow once with a goodnight fish-kiss once laughing, in full-body wave once squinting at his own sunshine once marveling at his finger's point He's ten for ten in this game we both win the game I could play all my days. |
AuthorHi! My name is Martina, and I write picture books, riddles, limericks, additional poems, and puppet shows. I taught first grade, second grade, and kindergarten in the United States and now live in Switzerland where I enjoy good stories and poems with my husband and our three children. Archives
April 2020
Categories |