Archive for May, 2010


NaPoWriMo Bonus Day 31 for May 1st, 2010

May 1, 2010

BONUS DAY?   Are you nuts?  We’re done with this . . .Post at least three of your favorite poems… one of them should be by someone else… (don’t post the poem without permission from the author but mention it or post a link).

I can’t decide if Esther Helfgott’s  Poem ON  April 3 or April 4th or April 7th were my favorite of the month.  She felt inspired to write something very personal and did so with the kind of rare compassion you rarely see.  Thanks for sharing them. (SHE POSTED THEM ON HER NOTES AT FACEBOOK)

Here’s a few of the poems I wrote this month that I thought were almost good and with a little work, might be worth keeping for a while.  I’ve included a couple of the collaborative Septolets I did with T (we alternated lines).   One of my Poem Starters; and the poem I wrote I liked best.. I suppose…

SEPTOLET  for April 11, 2010

Whistling for frogs
Hallelujah chorus
Recycled couplet
Long sermon

Glazed doughnuts
Bible study

The poem that follows was written as I listened to the Ad Libitum String Quartet  on CD performing the 3rd movement of Faure’s serene String Quartet in F Major—the only piece for string quartet that  19th century French composers Faure ever wrote (which lasts a little over 10 minutes).  I listened to the piece, made a few notes, then listened to the piece and wrote on the computer.  Within 10 seconds of when the piece ended I stopped writing.  I went back read the piece aloud, fixing some of the spelling and grammar (but not all) and then posted it.

String Quartet in F Major Poem
By Christopher J. Jarmick

Watching prim rose leaves
tickled by breezes
the first potted tulip;
a silky red
about to open
amongst the ceramic
kissing frogs
The wind
a bass cello,
the tree branches
dancing in front
of bright sun
falling into a rhythm
of yes,
or fanning some
unseen Cleopatra.
Then still,
the green leaves
moistened with dew
sparkling in morning sun
waiting to be tickled
by another Northwest
gust of wind
only the most
or desperate of
birds dares venture out
this gusty morning.

I imagine Cary Grant
as Roger Thornhill impeccably
overdressed, walking stylishly
against the wind, holding onto his
Stetson entering the bustling
He’s too handsome,
too dashing to ignore
Two gun shots,
someone is killed.
And several people only
remember seeing
innocent Roger standing there
now with smoking gun in his hand,
look of uncommon panic on
his face.
And then he runs,
his life forever

I also thought my poem…  NOT A POEM ABOUT THAT  came out fairly well and I’ll be working on it soon.

(prompt poem)
By Christopher J. Jarmick

I can’t write about
the things I am letting go
leaving behind.

They will not be like faded

Kodak photo
of the Uncle no one talks about.
in a stack of almost forgotten
photos that never made it
into frame for family photo wall
or into any of the blue photo albums.

Who’s that?
“Don’t remember.”

Yet they must.
I remember
the musty basement smell,
the ping pong table there,
see a face clearly, from the photo,
not one familiar at most family


That was his name.

How do I know he’s not really an
They supposedly don’t remember,
Yet I do.

Now I set down to write about
something else, but I won’t do it,
because there are many things
feelings, emotions, smells,
full of memories, some good,
and they make me sad,
make me miss what is gone.

No better to concentrate on the present,
think of tomorrow.

Another  couple of collaborative Septolet I liked (silly one).

Septolet  for   4/ 18 /2010

Rumble Bee
True Jay
Mound squirrel
Pink Angus

Wetland pony
Potted owl
Sunny rabbit

Septolet  4/19/10  #2

Gravel crunch
tennis shoes
Mallard glides
water landing

Boy running
Toddler loose
Hurry, Dad!

And I like this Poem Starter  from April 20th.

Poem Starter for NaPoWrimo  # 20
By Christopher J. Jarmick

Some words are shy,
but others purposefully run away
when you need them

So post and share the poems you’ll be saving, working on.

Keep Writing

The root of the word Poetry is from the Greek   ποιέω (poieō), “‘I
make’”). , poiesis, meaning a “making” or ‘creation’

Poetry is Everything