Poetry Forum

Full Version: NaPM, April 30, 2020
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Congratulations, y’all have made it to the end!! The contributions this month have been spectacular. Special kudos especially goes to Todd, Keith, and Dukealien who never missed a single day!  


Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month, have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.  Anyone is welcome to answer these prompts at any time, even after this challenge has ended.  Don’t be shy! 

Topic: endings or beginnings.  
The end of anything is also the beginning of what comes after, and every beginning is forged from the end of whatever came before.  Write about the end of something or write about the beginning of something.  Poet’s choice.  

Form: any
Line requirement: any

Questions?


And here is where I leave you until next April.  When we almost forgot about NAPM and had to scramble to get the first post up in time, I thought it was an ill omen for the challenge and my expectations were very low.  But you have rallied and made it wonderful and I am delighted with all the gorgeous poems I got to read this month.  Every day I couldn’t wait to see what new treasures would appear.  Thank you all so much, everyone who participated!  
 
Echo Chamber

Memory is frigid water
and as we dive through the years,
the fence remains unchanging,
generation to generation, immutable.
Its mesh blots the sun.
We have lived and died beneath
this latticed shadow. The farmer claims
the fence protects us from crossing
the road—but we hear instead, the voice
of the crows, who say the road is freedom.
They have flown its length and not seen
a single dead chicken. If it were dangerous,
there would be bodies. So, we continue
to peck with clipped wings until
the blue pours from the sky until
the end of days.
Ending-less


Earlier I lightly struck
a flying gray grasshopper
impact less than kitten’s paw;
since I bicycled
my insect-acquaintance carried on
just as I did
upon our altered courses.

New departures?  No.
Each beginning, every ending’s
mere diversion,
waypoint in a greater path we know
from hearsay alone.

Thus I divert you–
well?
Quix,

I appreciate all the work you did, providing the prompts, and pulling this together.

Thank you,

Todd
The party is over

The white embers glow
red as the campfire collapses
but the heat still radiates
and smoke greets the sky
like a child through playground gates.

Will the flames miss the wood,
scorched earth, the grass?
The tents are being taken down
revealing the bleached yellow patches
that will soon be lush green again.