Day 1 #Napowrimo Contained

Over here on the west coast, it's still March, but #NationalPoetryMonth has begun on east coast time!

Here is my first poem of April in response to the prompt here:

Contained

My life, the sum of filling
a box. Assembled and paper
tape stretched across.
I place inside the objects of 
myself; heart, lungs, limbs. Box,
a vital organ growing bone, 
skeleton, frame; meat hung 
on butterflies of hips,
the pianos of rib cages.
Brown cardboard creased
like the angles of armpits.
Corrugated like physical
sound waves. The word 
box in my mouth, dry,
empty, my body a box:
My life contained
or ripped open with a knife.

NaPoWriMo Day 19: Marble

For day nineteen of NaPoWriMo, I used the prompt. I took a paragraph from a short story I wrote and then began to erase words. It's interesting that the paragraph itself is describing a man helping his aging wife, but when I finally put the poem together it almost became sexual. A surprise since the sound and meaning of it didn't come across until I had taken the words and put them together.


Marble

He starts tightening my soiled clothes

with a wet cloth.

He takes everything, rubs out my curved

spine, rests me

down the hall rummaging with a cream-

colored dress.

I remember before we had children,

he lifted each

limb, adjusted them to rest on his shoulders

while I noticed

my stockings smooth into a pale marble.

Day 17: NaPoWriMo - Adventures at Dammasch

This is for my mother who has stories of her life growing up in foster care in Oregon and about her mother who loved her, even if the system wouldn't let her.

Adventures at Dammasch*

She’ll tell you stories about piglets,

rubber boots, rotten eggs

cracked

over the head, and deep purple bruises.

She’ll tell you about a girl who had

dreams,

who pitched soft ball with arms made of steel,

wilder than the Oregon frontier in the

rain shadow.

She’ll tell you stories about hunger,

eating mayo warm from the

cupboard,

stories of a girl who died by darkness

in the valley of the snow

melt river;

a girl whose mama was strapped with leather

over breasts, arms, legs and

forehead;

convulsed in a stigmata of electrodes;

smothered by people in

white.

She didn’t fly over the cuckoo’s nest;

she lit up like foxfire in the rain, in the

dark.

*Dammasch State Hospital in Willsonville, Oregon was a mental health hospital founded in 1961 and closed in 1995.

Poetry: Poem

Here's my response to day 15's prompt. For the prompt we were asked to write a poem that about a poem or the writing of a poem. I wrote a short one today because it seemed fitting...

Poem
By Brittany M.

Oh little poem,

Take me where you may.
To little towns, big cities,
Or to feel the ocean spray.

You are my master

I your willing slave.
Oh little poem,
Take me where you may.

Poetry: Creation and Destruction

I wasn't lazy yesterday, I swear! I actually wrote my poem by hand, as I usually do, but I had no way of typing it up last night because my husband was using our only working computer for...TAXES! Alas, he finished it up at 11pm last night and I was too spent to even lift the laptop to my lap. Ugh!

Since it is now April 15th, I hope everyone else isn't on the edge of their seat, furiously working on TurboTax before the deadline. And for this momentous and torturous day, I have a challenge.

Name the person who said this quote:

"In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes."

Try not to Google it, but to help you out, I'll give you a hint. He was one of the United States of America's founding fathers...

And now for day 14's poem from NaPoWriMo's website. We were asked to write a poem with a conversation and so I decided to have creation and destruction have a competition...

Creation and Destruction
By Brittany M.

Destruction:

I am the wind that puts out the light.
I, the ocean swell and furious storm
That erodes cliffs and floods homes.
I am the darkest side of the moon
And the cold and starless night.
 
Creation:
I am the wind that carries aloft
The fluff of a dandelion seed.
I am the ripe fruit for the taking
And the discarded pit waiting
I am constellations
As proof that skies unchanging.

Destruction:

I hurl lightning down
And clash with thunder’s call.
I am the man who raises balled fists
To settle the brawl.
Brick by brick I lay the pain of betrayal
And I dredge up from the depths,
Monsters yearning for blood and flesh.

Creation:

I bring about from depths of winter
The womb of spring and earth.
The only blood on my hands
Is that of a child’s birth.
And from my bosom
All you sweetly lay
When small and young
I bring forth the whitest of milk
To grow you healthy and strong.
 
Destruction:
Alas, I am the rule
That all creatures fear.
I am the labored heart
And the last effort breath
I am eternal, the shroud,
The blackest night.
I take away that once you had,
And what is took
Cannot be taken back.

Creation:

I am the rule
All creatures desire.
Death breeds creation
And from the fallen
And all things dead and discarded
I find within the jewel of potential.
From these cast off husks,
These thrown away things,
I let them sweetly decay.
From the blackness and rot
And in every deep dark
Corner of the night
A new life emerges,
Burning bright.

#poetry #NaPoWriMo #poem #writing

Inspiration and Motivation for Poetry Writing

 

Is this you half way through April?? organiceyourlife.com

Everyone needs a little motivation and inspiration from time to time because writing every day can be hard. So the less I have to think about things the better!

That’s why I like writing prompts. They give me parameters that I can work with and just enough focus to allow myself to relax and let ideas come. And since we are just about to hit the halfway mark of National Poetry Month, I need a little something to kick myself back into the groove, and I’m sure you do, too. So I have a writing prompt and a few links that will give you some fresh ideas.

I found a list of suggestions on how to celebrate national poetry month from Poets.org. I especially like the idea of memorizing a poem (I haven’t done that in a while!). Plus, I’ve subscribed to poem-a-day for a while and it’s my favorite email to see in the morning.

However, there is one thing I would like to add…

Head on over to the Poetry Foundation and listen to their amazing podcasts that have famous poets reading and discussing their work. Two of my favorites include a poetry lecture called “International Poets in Conversation: Matthew Shenoda” with Kwame Dawes and a Poetry Magazine podcast featuring many of the poets in the April 2015 issue.

And for today's poetry prompt...

Visit a place that is familiar to you, maybe a place you take for granted, and then go around and explore. Write a poem about the place as if you are a foreigner from a different country who is just visiting for the first time. Take in all of the details that you usually gloss over.

Here's my response...

Barren Landscape
By Brittany Mishra

Rusted sun,
Frosts, and dried winter
Leftovers.
Spirals and erosion
Slates and grays
Black asphalt crumble,
River’s yellow lines
Fade in dew and cloud cover.
Thatch plants 

Bulled over flat
Floors and grounds dun colored
Hanging chains match silver expanse
This low unwelcome sky
A handshake not offered
And hoof prints repeated backward
A leap and sheen
Smell of wet camphor
White shells crushed into flour
Tracks groove in semi circles
And birds sing snow birch winter.

 

 

Poetry Prompt Thursdays

I am beginning a new tradition of poetry prompt Thursdays where I will list a poetry prompt for anyone to use and respond to. This is a great way to promote daily writing practice.

Writing even a couple of paragraphs each day can help organize your thoughts and concerns and help you start afresh and focused for the day’s work.

After the prompt, I will write my own response to get the ball rolling and hopefully coax anybody out of their shell.

In regards to your own response, feel free to use any form you wish, whether it be poetry or prose and don’t feel pressured to share your work. I encourage sharing, but everyone has their own comfort level and I respect that. Please keep your response between 0 to 500 words; a little more that 500 is ok.

If you choose to post your response, please remember, this is a judgment free zone. I encourage discussion about each other’s response, but I expect positive support from everyone who comments. No haters, flamers, etc.

Please be respectful of each other.

Writing Time

Write about a place that quieted your soul. A place that made you feel small and made you feel a part of something bigger than yourself.

I decided to write about the time I was in India. I was in my husband’s home town Gwalior and he and his sister took me to the Sikh temple near Gwalior Fort. The sun had set and yet the white marble temple shone like a beacon in the night. A refuge of quiet amid the chaos of Gwalior.

Sikh Temple in Gwalior India. 123rf.com

A line of bronze oil lamps

Flicker obscure
Over red carpet
Leading into the mouth
Of the temple.
Outside the line of light
All is loud and dark.
I reach for you beside me,
But you are not there.
Your dark hand not present
Among the sacred marble.
I turn to you, there behind
The water moat among the shadows.
You stand by the line of empty shoes
Your feet fully clad in the
Day’s toil and grind.
Hands interlaced
Cradle your black hair
Behind your head.
The space between your arms
Sharp triangles of night.
Your eyes search
For answers among
The budding stars
Outside this temple
No longer yours.
Star by star
No wish whispered,
Instead every fiber of you
Reaches for answers to
The whys and hows
Formed on your lips,
But silence shimmers down
Cold as marble below your feet.

Thank you for writing, reading and responding. If you are interested in more prompts or daily writing practice, I also subscribe to the Poets and Writers free and weekly newsletter “The Time is Now.” They send out a weekly email with three writing prompts one poetry, creative nonfiction, and fiction. They also give book recommendations and inspiration.