NaPM April 22 2013

[milo]

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 22: From the perspective of an animal or creature.
Form : any
Line requirements: 10 lines or more.

Questions?

(congratulations to those sticking it out this far)

[Todd]

Godzilla's Press Conference on Alternative Energy

I was the first blossom
of your atomic age with a fire
the flower of youthful passion.
I ate your trains, and with my tail
smashed your factories;
still, you did not understand
that I am an antibody to your landfills.
You recycle cans. I am the heart
of a sun. I offer power beyond
your fossil fuels. I am
the great lizard that walks
sometimes on you.
I see your lips move
in noiseless supplication,
hear my name seconds late,
out of sync, it is me you pray to.

[milo]

Godzilla's Press Conference on Alternative Energy

I was the first blossom
of your atomic age with a fire
the flower of youthful passion.
I ate your trains, and with my tail
smashed your factories;
still, you did not understand
that I am an antibody to your landfills.
You recycle cans. I am the heart
of a sun. I offer power beyond
your fossil fuels. I am
the great lizard that walks
sometimes on you.
I see your lips move
in noiseless supplication,
hear my name seconds late,
out of sync, it is me you pray to.

this would have met the criteria for a number of the topics!! Nice.

[cidermaid]

Yet another ideas draft. but must just say this poem a day thread is really proving great. Love this prompt it has set my mind all over the place...sadly really short on time today. Looking forward to reading some of the other poems, esp Mikey you have been consistantly turning out some great writes. (Todd another image rich feast from you...as always a treat to read).

Hibernating dreams.

The path ahead is well lit.
A hazy golden glow, that dances
in a kaleidoscope of coloured clouds,
each a flower form; rushing with
beating petaled wings, to find and meet
in gloved perfection, the floating me,
a leisured bee.

Plushie pollen visions - infrared on multi screens,
fill my head, then saturate and cover my legs
with dreamy, dripping honeyed crème.
That oozes, un-masticated, in predawn
perfection. My sun sticky sweetheart
breaks the royal seal and I float free,
at ease on a perfect breeze.

[billy]

"Right! Where's the typewriters lads?"

I fancied doing Shakespeare's works
but infinity is not a bloody option.
Was hoping the rest of the group
would help me with the rhymes.

It's meant to be iambic, I don't know;
what it means to be fantastic, unless
it's swinging through the trees at 13 miles per.
I try and hit the buttons 'cause they feed me when I do.

"Oh Look, he just typed screw."

The boys and girls in white see me,
the less advanced
a non-firing spark plug;

"Cut me, do I not bleed?---"

[milo]

Monarch

First the worm and then the wormy chrysalis
I inch the pistils; silky, larval mass. I envy this:

the speed of the black cobra's missile-kiss,
the fissile-tongued poison thistle hiss. But no,

it is the ten day waiting as a bean green fava bean
until I break the seam,
stretch my newfound wings in newborn light
then burst to flight
a queen.

[Todd]

Thanks guys.

I think this is one of the best prompts since the cartoon one early on. Billy actually gave me an idea for another poem from reading his monkeys writing Shakespeare in a Skinner box. When this is all over I may give it a go.

I've liked where each of these poems have went so far.

[NakedBear]

Preta

As void as drum, his tummy ached,
while spindly fingers bathed in drink
by altar set for him who’s draped
in ocher stone, and does not blink.

To ease this thirst would make his mind
as void as drum. His tummy ached,
while fingers bathed and lips confined
thin throat to gut, grey-pumpkin shaped.

“Now don’t forget,” an old voice scraped.
His pimples raised; he’d thought the room
as void as drum. His tummy ached.
The grandson finally broke the gloom:
“May ghosts now feast on merit made!”

Then fingers left from bowl, escaped,
while we should pray his place has stayed
as void as drum, where once he’d ached.

~~~

Drat, I've fallen behind and can't catch up. Oh well.

And I realized too late that I'd paired the refrains with near rhymes. Apparently I don't know how to use a dictionary!

---

esp Mikey you have been consistantly turning out some great writes.

Thank you so much for the compliment, Cidermaid! I've also been enjoying your poems, even though you think them only 'drafts.' (I'd love to see the polished versions )

And as for the rest of you: you're golden, in case you didn't know that (although you probably already do).

I'll probably have something for the 23rd on the 24th, or 25th in the AM.

[justcloudy]

I'm behind too. here's mine, very telly.


I’ve never been much of a leader
the woman with folded skin has a stick
the stick points where to go.

Until now life has been calm
we eat, then move, we chew, then walk
we see the yearling boys be taken
we watch the stick pointing them out.

Yesterday it aimed between my eyes, now
my neck is tied to a courtyard palm tree
my ears hear a tiny human screaming
my eyes watch busy women bustle
my heart shudders and I don’t know why.



by way of explanation, in Morocco seven days after a baby is born a sheep is slaughtered inside the house and the baby is given his/her name. it's the Muslim baptismal ritual here.