Poetry, Written for NaPoWriMo

Love Hurts

Day 9 – written for April National Poetry Month

Today’s prompt for #NaPoWriMo, suggested by Bruce Niedt. Here’s Bruce’s explanation: take any random song play list (from your iPod, CO player, favorite radio station, Pandora or Spotify , etc.) and use the next five song titles on that randomized list in a poem.

I really lost it!
Whole crazy thing
Love hurts
Love pain
What I love about Sunday
Just to see you smile
Summertime!

Poetry

The Children’s Hour

Day 8 – Writing for April National Poetry Month
with prompts from NaPoWriMo

Today’s prompt, rewrite a famous poem, giving it our own spin. . .any famous poem will do!

Instead, I offer my favorite childhood poem. My mother was a great story-teller and she quoted this poem from memory! It used to scare us kids to death with images of dungeons and we just knew that the Bishop must have been a dragon for sure. We felt someone was chasing us and we would be left to die in some lonely dungeon, where we would never ever be found, even by a prince. It wasn’t until years later, I finally read the poem as an adult and thought. . . WOW! my mother was telling us how much she loved us!

The Children’s Hour
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupations
That is known as the Children’s Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret
O’er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all?

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.

And there I will keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the wall shall crumble to ruin
And molder in dust away!

Poetry, Spring, Written for NaPoWriMo

Bear House Point

Day 6 – Sunday, Writing for April National Poetry Month with NaPoWriMo prompts.  
Today we are asked to write . . . what is outside our window.

I sit back while I watch rain falling
Here upon the first cabin, the Bear Point House
Across from our cove and on its own
A small pennisula reaching out

A most lovely house nestled into these Ozark hills
Bounded by Lake Ann and its wildlife homes
Peeking out many windows light the night
All in friendly persuassion
That all is right

National Poetry Month, Poetry, Written for NaPoWriMo

The Gift

Day 5 — Writing with NaPoWriMo prompts for April National Poetry Month

This form was invented by Terrance Hayes in his poem, The Golden Shovel. The last word of each line of Hayes’ poem is a word from Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem We Real Cool
I am using The Sparrow from The Bible and then using the last word in each line creating my new poem for today.

THE SPARROW
1
The sparrow hath found an house,
And the swallow a nest for herself,
Where she may lay her young.

THE GIFT
1
The gift of coming home framed, by your mother the-sparrow
Something rich between you hath
Always noticed like a brand new penny found
Busily building a new Sparrow’s nest an-house
Even as the neighbor and-the-swallow
Finds a lovely mountain tree and the safety of a-nest
Sound the trumpets, ring the bells not for-herself
But the love given freely even where
It is never expected, in return she
And the love between mother and daughter may-lay
Golden crowns around her head and her
Own soul rises forever young