NaPoWriMo Day 13 Prompt 14

I am realizing with this project of writing a poem every day just how much poetry I write. I come to this April poetry writing in the evenings and already have notebook pages full of poem starts. But I write something new with each post anyway. Hopefully I have written something good in the previous half month, and hopefully I will again write write something good in the next half. I have certainly written some starts that will turn into good poems some day though. And I am having fun and thinking about writing a little differently, which is to say NaPoWriMo is a very good project.

Here is the prompt from Chris:

“Prompt for Day 14 –An occasion poem. A poem you might write to give to someone as they celebrate a special event, a birthday, a wedding, an engagement, an anniversary, or a poem for a holiday.”

And of course my first reaction is to give voice to my hyperactive inner smart ass and write a flirty poem on the occasion of a divorce or an “I’m so sorry your brother died of explosive diarrhea right in front of you… could I have his computer?” poem, or something like that. But because I am feeling nice (Santa Claus is watching me right this very minute!) I am going to write a nice poem… or at least try to.

my occasion is National Poetry Month

reading poetry leads to writing poetry

writing poetry leads to reading poetry

may it continue

not even to mention listening to poetry
or listening to thunder
and hail/rain downpour
at a poetry reading

people are clapping
the sky is clapping
and I missed the poem

but I am not sorry
there will be other poems
and other weather to distract me
this moment
will never be again

in a month of poetry readings and performances
and one missed poem
among countless others that would have enlightened me beyond human comprehension
I was watching the rain and hail
singing silently along with the thunder
flicker-flash of lightening
missing the best poem I will ever miss hearing

but the next one was pretty good too
it had crows in it

From the NaPoWriMo site the prompt is rather prompt which is nice, I like my prompts to be timely.

“And now our (totally optional) prompt. Yesterday’s prompt of saying what you’d never say was sort of a doozy — rather emotionally intense, I think, for a lot of you! So for today, let’s relax. Your prompt for today is simply to take a walk. Make notes — mental or otherwise — on what you see on your walk, and incorporate these notes into your poem. A bit more serene and observational than yesterday, and hopefully a nice, calming poem to begin your weekend with. Happy writing!”

Although I am going to change it up just a bit, for the purposes of this blog, this prompt is now mandatory.

This is something I do often so for variety, I will play with the notes I took on the ride home (swerving all over the place because I was trying to write) from the afore mentioned poetry reading. I will not use the poem I wrote during the reading or the notes written down earlier though. What I want to do is list the notes and describe the events that prompted them and then work them into poems, so a bit of creative process show and tell. (I make a terrible magician huh?)
Also, completely beside the topic, I had dinner and the waitress asked for my name and wrote it on the receipt and when I looked at it I thought, “she spelled ‘it rong.'”

the bridge has many mouths
This came from noticing on I5 above the water that the way the road is constructed is with stretches of street connected to other stretches with the zig-zagging metal pieces that look like teeth.

what blessing rain is
Wow it was raining hard, and everything took on those peculiar hues that everything does when it is Spring and stormy. The light filtered through storm clouds and everything wet and the new-greens of the trees create the effect I think, but it is certainly a pleasant effect. The whole world looks cleansed and reborn on days like this.

spattering rhythm
of freeway rain
clarity, a bridge we pass beneath

I was noticing the heavy rain and the sound it made while driving through it, but the sudden ceases and resumptions as we passed under bridges. I was looking for a metaphor in the wrong way, metaphors, the good ones, for me at least, tend to come from a subconscious place, trusting my imagination and free-associating. This time I was deliberately looking to make the rain-sound and bridge images metaphors for having a sudden good idea and then loosing it just as quickly to distractions. I still like that passing under a bridge instead of over it is an interesting twist, instead of a bridge to cross a gap, you go beneath it to find an answer. But I do not like the implication that rain sound is a distraction, I find rain to be soothing and it helps me to concentrate, so I am not sure what I will do with this.

the contrast between bright drenched trees
and charcoal gray-blue sky
lightning
thunder

This is an observation of the storm clouds that just passed. There was a very Buddhist quality about these clouds. The destruction of a storm made the trees look more alive than ever. And the clouds themselves, they were so dark that they could pull you in, but the light was shining through them, they had that quality of absorbing and radiating that staring at too long could lead to Nirvana. Needless to say we turned the other way and went back to Auburn.

Poems from these lines as a starting point:

many mouths
bless the rain

reborn
in the certainty of contrast

lightning strikes
the falling sky

and fulfills the covenant
of this moment

***

clarity
is a bridge
we pass
beneath

***

spattering rain rhythm
freeway overpasses
I had an idea
but now its gone

***

the world is reborn in rain
the world is enlightened in rain
fish drown in rain
the sky is falling
when it rains
but nobody panics
the sky falls every day
but people only get wet
and move on
fish drown in rain
some fish rise up
and breath the wet air
and then drown

(don’t know where that came from…)

***

thunder bright sky
emanates itself among wind
carrying all eyes to purpose
with clarity
beneath the teeth of other roads
running the risk
of self-discovery
we find our own
walls
but we also
make our own ladders

(how optimistic I am today… except for the fish…)

***

spattering rain rhythm
resounds in memory
every rain the same rhythm
resounds in memory
every childhood
memory
the same rain
the same
resounding in traffic
every childhood
the rain
splashes
spatters
becomes
memory

***

thunder
becomes
thought
becomes
poetry

becomes

thunder
for new poets

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