NaPoWriMO #4: Image from a dream

Here’s me yet again trying to catch up with #NaPoWriMo and today was day 4 about images from a dream. It’s funny because you’d think my dreams are always out there, but in comparison to what I write, they border on ordinary lol. Still, sometimes there are some amazing visuals I can enjoy in my adventures in Draem and today’s prompt is just that, write an image from a dream. Below is the optional NaPoWriMo prompt in case you wanted to see it. As per usual, no visuals, just words .

Optional prompt: write a poem based on an image from a dream. We don’t always remember our dreams, but images or ideas from them often stick with us for a very long time.

There but not

There are different ways in which dreams stay with us.

Sometimes a nightmare leaves our skin dry sweat chilled.

Other times the first stretch of the day is with a knowing smile.

But sometimes, 

Not often, 

But sometimes… you feel an emptiness inside,

A doubt that clings on to one of your ribs

And doesn’t feel the need to let go. 

Did I dream that?

Was that real?

You open your eyes

Look around

And find yourself in your bedroom. 

Wrinkled sheets and bedhead confirm it, 

That wasn’t real.

But you can’t help shake that feeling

That for one fleeting moment

You were in a place with people

There was chatter and conversations 

About Gandhi, the economy, and rhododendrons

And everything was there

And you were there

And everyone was there

Except one thing 

Your pants.

NaPoWriMO #3: Words you can see

Here I’ll be catching up on #NaPoWriMo today, because why not? Today’s prompt was a bit more quirky, meaning that it’s a process rather than a theme. I usually write a poem’s title and go from there, though not always. I also often write parting from a topic, or a line, or a stray couple of verses I had in mind, but for NaPoWriMo, I’ll be mixing things up because I think that’s one of the beauties of poetry, you can definitely mix up your approach and try different things. 

So firstly, I’ll copy the prompt, then I’ll compile my ten-word list and then choose words that rhyme using RhymeZone. I’ll write my list later, original words first then rhymes in parenthesis. If it's bold, I used it. If it isn't, I left for another occasion.

Day 3 prompt: First, make a list of ten words. You can generate this list however you’d like – pull a book off the shelf and find ten words you like, name ten things you can see from where you’re sitting, etc. Now, for each word, use Rhymezone to identify two to four similar-sounding or rhyming words. For example, if my word is “salt,” my similar words might be “belt,” “silt,” “sailed,” and “sell-out.” Once you’ve assembled your complete list, work on writing a poem using your new “word bank.” You don’t have to use every word, of course, but try to play as much with sound as possible, repeating sounds and echoing back to others using your rhyming and similar words.

List (Things I can see from where I’m sitting, rhymes in parenthesis):

Cube (Tube, Group)

Mug (Bug, Drug)

Plant (Can’t, chant, rant)

Block (Flock, knock, frock)

Wall (All, shall, squall)

Book (cook, rook, nook)

Pen (Den, glen, wren, ten yen)

Phone (bone, clone, roam)

Picture (fissure, lecture, mixture)

Guitar (bazar, bizarre, lodestar)

Words that found each other

Knock-knock goes the flock wherever you roam

In search of a moment, one you can’t clone.

For ten yen from the men’s den 

The glen wren does sing a pen’s Zen.

The rook peers at the scene from his nook

Then goes back to reading his lyrical book.

He comes across a guitar’s picture

Whose structure results a bizarre mixture.

There’s a storm within that drives you against a wall

An inner hurricane, tornado, sleet storm, or squall.

Every single seed that ends up in a can’t

Came from an excuse we did readily plant.

Its fruit will grow to be a block

That might wear a uniform or a frock,

Or turn to the phone bone’s ring, our manual drug

The one buzzing itch we scratch that damned digital bug.

A group’s fissure mends from a lodestar’s chant

Before the lecture bazar does slip into rant.

NaPoWriMO #2: Poem of a specific place

Here I am, chiming in for day 2 of NaPoWrimo and thinking of a specific place to follow that day’s prompt and had to write about my home spot of Tocones where I grew up surfing. It isn't the most epic surf spot, but it's home... and quite often, that's all you need.

Prompt for the day: write a poem about a specific place —  a particular house or store or school or office. Try to incorporate concrete details, like street names, distances (“three and a half blocks from the post office”), the types of trees or flowers, the color of the shirts on the people you remember there.

Home Spot 

Not all churches need be serene

Some can be cerulean.

Sand for stone 

Saltwater altar

No roof to come between conversations.

Paddles taken

Steps had

A church is a church

If a slice of heaven makes you glad.

One’s devotion

Is another’s desire

One’s connection

Celebration inspires.

A church is a church

If in God you feel 

Connected, elated,

The divine in the real.

Need not have the biggest of waves

Just enough to feel as if you can walk on water

Or at least fly on a board.

Home is a wave

And I wave back at home.

NaPoWriMO #1: Self-portrait poem

I’ll be doing NaPoWrimo, but instead of a long explanation, just going to dive in because the water’s fine. Will only be posting words, no images with these.

Prompt: 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 its shoes.

Catching waves

When you surf,

Things don’t always go to plan. 

Sometimes your timing is off.

Sometimes people drop in on your wave.

Sometimes you miss a wave by a mere stroke or two. 

Even with that, you don’t give up,

Because the pursuit is half the reward.

You keep searching.

You keep paddling. 

Because although every wave isn’t epic,

You have to give yourself the chance.

Not because you owe it to yourself,

But because why not?

You look at the horizon and smile

The familiar darker hue signals a set is coming

And although there are no guarantees

The prospect is often enough to remind you

Just how good it feels to be alive

and enjoy the moment.