Category: New/unpublished poems

Today I’ve experimented with writing/constructing a concrete poem for National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo).

In a concrete poem, the way the words are arranged is as important as the message of the poem itself.

Today’s raw National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) poem is modelled on Robert Frost’s ‘Stopping by woods on a snowy evening’, which ends with the enigmatic lines ‘…And miles to go before I sleep / And miles to go before I sleep.’

I’ve used the same rhyming scheme and the same number of verses.

Let me know what you think in the comments box.

Stopping in a Garden on a Thursday evening

This Garden, oh Gethsemane,
My Father knows I want to flee
But faith this paltry life transcends:
My duty to help mankind see.

I spent the evening with my friends
Broke bread, shared wine, now evening ends
My Father’s wish I can’t delay
On me his winning plan depends.

But Judas, you will me betray.
And Peter, by the breaking day
You’ll shake your head three times, deny,
Then cock will crow, to your dismay.

And even yet, I wonder why…
My friends, I bid you warm goodbye
Not long to go before I die
Not long to go before I die.

My day four National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) poem is a haiku inspired by an ABC article about locusts.

Haiku

Tired locusts on red earth,
hold breath to rest,
prepare to swarm.

Today’s ‘naked’ National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) poem was inspired by this lovely quote from a certain M C Richards: Poetry often enters through the window of irrelevance.

I hope you like it. Let me know what you think in the comments box.

Allowing the ordinary

I woke up at 5.30 this morning,
made myself a black coffee
in my favourite blue-and-yellow mug;
threw open the window
smelled the new-mown grass
regarded yesterday’s towels on the clothes line
noticed the faint outlines
of our three bicycles leaning against the fence
and the jumble of dog toys on the lawn;
I inhaled the fresh air
heard the doves call to each other
as elegant eucalyptus branches moved gently;
I saw a Tuesday morning blink its sleep-filled eyes,
watched an April sky pull back its curtains,
open its windows.

And later
as I considered ideas for today’s poem
my first thought was
that this morning
had been one like every other,
irrelevant
mundane
nothing special.

Here’s my day two poem offering.

Yesterday

Yesterday was Palm Sunday.
I remembered only towards day’s end.

I remember well
in the Holy Weeks of my childhood
the smell
of fresh-cut pine tree branches,
sacramentals in the box at the church entrance.

We’d choose a blessèd stem
symbol of adulation
of imminent betrayal,
reminder of how we blow with the wind:
cry ‘Hosanna!’ one day
cry ‘Crucify Him!’ the next.

Yesterday was also April Fool’s day.

Just because I haven’t enough writing commitments on my plate, ha ha, I’ve signed up to National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). This means I’ve set the intention to write a poem every day for the month of April.

What you’re going to see here every day for the month of April 2012 is a poem that I’ve just written, all raw and unedited (gulp).

Maybe this should be called Naked Poetry Writing Month?

When I write a poem I usually do a quick first edit, then I leave it for a week or so and revisit it and give it a good going-over with my red pen. (And sometimes that’s not enough to make it decent.)

But National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) doesn’t afford me the luxury of that time.

So prepare yourself for some self-conscious naked poems this month.

Of course I’ll still be posting ‘rescued’ poems every Tuesday. That won’t change.

Okay, so here’s the first offering, inspired by the name of a book club mentioned over at L L Barkat’s website Tweetspeak.