Wednesday,, April 25th, 2012 NaPoWriMo Day 25/30

April 24, 2012

Wednesday,, April 25th, 2012 NaPoWriMo Day 25

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.— Thomas Gray

If you want to send a message…call Westen Union – Sam Goldwyn

Or maybe write an Epistolary!!!

Today’s Prompt

Write an Epistolary poem to anything you would like except a person. Write it to an inanimate object (coffee table, wine glass, television etc), an animal, a malady or condition, or a feeling.

Epistolary poems read like letters. They can be in any form from couplets, quatrains to free verse,. You probably want to start it: Dear ________ .
Epistolary is from the latin epistula aka letter. It dates back to verse letters from the time of the Roman Empire and the form was refined and popularized by folks like Horace and Ovid. Many poets have written them of course and the one you’re writing can use any tone, any voice you like and it can be addressed directly to your chosen subject or to a world-wide audience. It can be satirical, sentimental, dramatic, political, serious, humorous and/or autobiographical.

Dear NaPoWriMo,
I find myself with little time
compelled to write a rhyme
each and every April Day
sometimes with little to say
relying on prompts to show the way.

Please do much better than this one! I know you can!

DAY 24 PROMPT POEMS (Detailed observance)

Get Mail and Write Poem
By Christopher J. Jarmick

Trio of glasses on coffee table
Ice tea, milk, water
Crumb of cookie
Chocolate chip
There, another
Several feet away
By small white fiber
On bland grey carpet
Open red door
Tin hog waiting
Cement steps
Wood bridge over
Small man made pond
Huge 15 foot rhododendrons
Still waiting to burst into
Pink and red
Cement sidewalk,
Black parking lot
Japanese styled mailbox area
The air is crisp, cold,
Sky a bright white grey
Squirrel freezes in place
Dashes along worn fence top
Leaps onto tree branch
Startling squawking crow
Leaves swaying in slight
Cool breeze
Car doors closing
Two Thump.
I freeze not unlike
Contemplate a leap
Up to fence
Then tree branch,
But belief in physics,
Won’t let me move
To really do it.
I become self-conscious
Some one might see
I take deep breath
Open mail box
Realize in a few minutes
I’ll be writing this down
Looking for an ending
Hand on cold wrought iron
Return to
Tin hog
Red door
How to describe
Flowered welcome mat
Decide I won’t.
Now typing
Loud air blower
In neighboring parking lot
Getting louder,

By Teresa Jarmick

White, white,
Black, white, black, white
Black, white.
E to B
Five finger ballet
Traumatic synchronicity

The root of the word Poetry is from the Greek ποιέω (poieō), “‘I
make’”). , poiesis, meaning a “making” or ‘creation’
Poetry is Everything
©2012 Christopher J. Jarmick All Rights Reserved


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