NaPM 2 April 2022

[RiverNotch]

One by one, my drafts folder will be emptied xD

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.

Topic: Write an address to a beloved woman (the kind of love is up to you).

Form: Any

Line Requirement: At least 12

[Quixilated]

Yellow.
Your new CD player on the desk,
the brand new bedspread,
there was something else,
but I don’t remember now.
And your hair like a waterfall
of gold down to your waist.

Green.
The grass on the front lawn
where we studied in September sun.
The floor-length peasant skirt;
you wore it everywhere 
that first semester. I never told you
how it transformed you into Tatiana.

Blue.
That tower of shimmery shadows
you carefully applied every morning.
Your eyes looked beautiful either way,
though, laughter became them best.
The pond-deep puddle in the parking lot
the day we danced together in the rain.

Red.
I can’t think of any.
Red is too loud for this.

Orange. 
The goldfish we thought we could take on an airplane in plastic containers when we went to your house for spring break, but they died a few days later.  I can’t remember, but I think we felt very guilty. 

Brown.
Hot chocolate and secrets shared at midnight.
Matching sweaters and the smell of your perfume.
Our own quotes and fairy pictures on the wall.
A glitter-spell cast from a Japanese walking stick
in the dead of night to help with homework
and homesickness. 

Black and White.
Words on paper and screens.  Novels.
Birthday letters, miss you letters, just because.
Journals, stories, poems, dreams.
Traveling long distances in a handful of words.
A friendship made from thousands upon thousands of words,
two nerdy souls, and a handful of pixie dust.

[Mark A Becker]

Forgiving

I felt the joy a springtime morning brings
the day you sang your heart to me, alone.
You offered me a song that I still sing,
its melody, the dearest gift I own.

When nights were young, affection raw and bare,
hot pleasures blazed among our souls like fire.
We danced on glowing embers without care,
and fanned the flames that sprang from pure desire. 

Last night we peeled through books of photographs,
and had to smile at how we looked back then.
Between the pages, notes that made us laugh,
a message written sometime way back when-

that love is forgiving, makes life worth the living- still  true,
and sure enough, it has steadily carried us through.

[CRNDLSM]

She floats along the waters
in her Mississippi house boat
to collect stacked up letters
to a daughter.  Her dad wrote,
"Grimes, you must follow the rules,
It's not the 1880's
anymore." But she crumples
the notes, tossing them to the breeze.

[dukealien]

Arcadia (To His Sister)


Welcome again to my little house and, I hope,
your new third home.

Here we can speak gently, drink a little wine,
and as we discuss our past, store up good memories against its future discontents.

Sit on paired rockers, saying little; point out songbirds, talk of favorite recent books.

Scent citronella.

Watch a movie with no message, have a coffee, then
return to your own adored first home.

But remember mine with just a little joy, and
never be a stranger.

[RiverNotch]

All the world turns green in your blue presence.
Trees bend down to you, their buds unfold,
flowers scatter their pollen, fruits sweeten
without ripening, seeds suddenly burst
with animate life, grass and shrubs
crane their stems to kiss even just your knees,
moss wraps around stone, vines creep over concrete,
roots strain against mortar, roads break apart,
buildings collapse, steel rusts to earth,
glass grinds to sand, dead wood dissolves to slime,
cities fall silent, the teeth of grazers
fall from their mouths while predators fall asleep,
and nights become as peaceful as the day
the Lord had separated dark from light.
But what more would grace nature should you turn
from cool azure to warm gold with a smile!

[Semicircle]

Frail body,
pasted against ornate box,
what good it'll do you
in dirt

But of all the things we disagreed with in life
I think we can agree
you look better dead-
almost beautiful,
if I squint hard enough.

[Magpie]

I was bound to love You
from the startled murmurs
and restrained velvet moans.

Caught up in emotion
untethered soul i found
freedom in Your embrace.

Our lives are now entwined
like boa constrictors
around a helpless prey.

Every time i breathe in
the knot becomes tighter
 - i am bound to love You.

[Keith]

Tilly

Wild child of the broken streets
flash mob where the false smiles meet
punk rock for the paupers,
Disappointments only daughter.
The rain tasted of your name,
swept away with a different strange.

Headwinds of the hurricane
night riding the slow trains
dyed hair and catholic shame
another cut and gone again.
I saw you in your summer dress
caught cold in a winter caress.

you separate your mind
From what you believe
and dance away the day
with thoughts like thieves.

Died young of a backbone
displaced from a bitch queen throne
Mother wept for all the tattoos
Purple Hearts remind me of you
pulling out the record from an album sleeve
a young 33 played on the wrong speed.

You separate your mind
from what you believe
Then dance away the day
with thoughts like thieves.

[busker]

Yellow.
Your new CD player on the desk,
the brand new bedspread,
there was something else,
but I don’t remember now.
And your hair like a waterfall
of gold down to your waist.

Green.
The grass on the front lawn
where we studied in September sun.
The floor-length peasant skirt;
you wore it everywhere 
that first semester. I never told you
how it transformed you into Tatiana.

Blue.
That tower of shimmery shadows
you carefully applied every morning.
Your eyes looked beautiful either way,
though, laughter became them best.
The pond-deep puddle in the parking lot
the day we danced together in the rain.

Red.
I can’t think of any.
Red is too loud for this.

Orange. 
The goldfish we thought we could take on an airplane in plastic containers when we went to your house for spring break, but they died a few days later.  I can’t remember, but I think we felt very guilty. 

Brown.
Hot chocolate and secrets shared at midnight.
Matching sweaters and the smell of your perfume.
Our own quotes and fairy pictures on the wall.
A glitter-spell cast from a Japanese walking stick
in the dead of night to help with homework
and homesickness. 

Black and White.
Words on paper and screens.  Novels.
Birthday letters, miss you letters, just because.
Journals, stories, poems, dreams.
Traveling long distances in a handful of words.
A friendship made from thousands upon thousands of words,
two nerdy souls, and a handful of pixie dust.

I loved this

---

What wouldn’t I give
for an hour with thee
bottled, to harry
tyrant time,
an old sea monster
that always seeks our drowning.

But for the thoughts
we sometimes carry,
that keep us going
in the heart of the sea.

Oh, my love,
I’ve never forgotten,
but burn in your moonlight
endlessly.

[TranquillityBase]

Dawn's cataract has flowered, unfolding absence,
and a shoal of wings and cries,
mouths jagged as the sky spell their warning
to my daughter in her underworld, withholding only
hunger from her heart of many colors.
Her body of another love knows no others.

Morning is a quantum for her whom sleep has spared,
a jack-in-the-box of liars
that plummets at noon into hexagonal night
until harrowed back again by a child's delight.
Starlings cluster in their ragged towers
sharpening their voices against her hours
until the machinery of daylight
disperses their sleek and wanton terror.