Thursday, April 26th, 2012 NaPoWriMo Day 26 /30

April 25, 2012

Thursday,, April 26th, 2012 NaPoWriMo Day 26 /30

The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair.– – Mary Heaton Vorse

Day 26 Prompt

Septolet Day !!! (We did this on Day 4…And Day 14. . . let’s do it again!!)

The Twist:
Use four words from page 26 of the book you are reading… or one of your favorite books.

Use two words in your first Septolet…. Use two words in your second Septolet.

Word number 4, and number 26
Word number 12 and number 20 for your second poem.
(if word number 4 is an article a, an, the etc. skip to the next word. If it is someone’s first or last name, skip to the next word).

Sep-toe-lay is how you say it. It’s a lesser known very short French Form and there’s two ways of doing a Septolet. Let’s write one of each today.

Septolet 1: Total of 14 words in 7 lines, no line should have more than three words. The poem should relate to one subject, object, thought or feeling. The first four lines create a coherent picture or thought, the last three lines create another. Each could stand separately, but both are related.

Septolet 2: Line 1 has one syllable, Line 2 has two, Line 3 has 3, Line 4 has 4 syllables, space, Line 5 has 3, Line 6 has 2, Line 7 has one syllable. Poem should relate to one thought, feeling, object, place.
You can write this in collaboration with someone. Write the first line, have a friend or significant other write the second line, you can write the third.. etc. etc. Remarkable what results sometimes. Feel free to do it this way as well. Do an extra two of these if you are doing it this way.

DAY 25 PROMPT POEM (epistolary or letter poem)

DEAR POEM (an epistolary or letter poem)
By Christopher J. Jarmick

Dear Poem ,
Can it be
that I composed your
tired, forced lines
dripping with sentimentality
cliché and obvious metaphor?
Is it possible I once believed
you decent specimen of
literary effort, I submitted
for journal publication?

I cannot blame alcohol indulgence
Or unrequited love, nor
bitter broken heart.
You aren’t that sort of poem.

No lines worth saving,
I can not blame
Some errant, taunting muse.

I could understand
If you lived like butterfly specimen
Between pages of
forgotten notebook
but you survived
at least a light revision.

Perhaps you were
stream of consciousness,/
exercise or warm-up?
No, that is simple denial
Resistance to my complicity
in your bastard origination.

You’re appearance on computer screen/
line breaks, correct spelling
indicate I worked you
over several hours/

And I remember with disbelief
I read you to an audience
on more than one occasion.

And now my shame complete
For though I realize my mistake

I let your stain
like living mold
infest my thoughts
and write of you
as if you matter
in this
quite desperate

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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