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NaPoWriMo Day 9 – Prompt for April 9, 2015

April 8, 2015

Welcome to Day 9 of NaPoWriMo. Although some days, the juices aren’t flowing as I’d like, one of my favorite things to do is to write, particularly poems that I might share at readings or even get published.  NaPoWriMo gives me additional motivation to push myself and write a little differently than I normally would.   I also get to see what others are writing.   Brendan McBreen who’s an active part of a group of poets and writers in Auburn, Washington called The Striped Water Poets does NaPoWriMo and posts additional prompts and challenges on his Elsewhere in the Rain blog.  Worth checking out.

 

Also worth checking out is NorthWest poet and recently retired Metro bus driver Michael Spence‘s latest collection of poetry, The Bus Drivers Threnody (Truman State University Press).  It is one of my favorite poetry books published in 2014   It’s witty, clever, funny, sad, revealing and sometimes profound.   You can read more about it here:  The Bus Drivers Threnody .   http://tsup.truman.edu/item.asp?itemId=502 .  (It’s also at Amazon).

 

This brings us to our prompt.

 

DAY 9  – NaPoWriMo Prompt for  April 9 2015 

 

Let’s write a Threnody!     A what?    A threnody, (from the greek) is a song, hymn or poem of mourning (like an elegy or lament) composed or performed as a memorial to a dead person.   You can write your poem about a person… or to something that you miss, or you believe is fading away and will soon be obsolete. (you know, like common sense. . .). “I miss . . .”  may work as nudge for you….

 

NAPOWRIMO PROMPT 7 POEMS

 Choose words from a book based on your birthday, age etc.  The poem should have theme or idea based on the book you use for the words.  One of my favorite recently discovered books, Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss generated the words used in this mediocre write: called, songs, fullness, sorry, attempting, wind, given, would, after, happens

 

Naming the Wind

By Christopher J. Jarmick

 

The scribe was called to the table

not to pen lyrics to a song

but document a true story of fullness and wonder

which, sorry to say, had tragic consequences

as a young lad attempting to learn magical secrets

to use the power of the wind

was given a book

that would propel him on a journey

challenge after challenge of action, love, lust and learning

and what happens next, I can not tell.

 

WD  Poem a Day Prompt 7

Was to write a love poem, an anti-love poem or a combination of both

 

Forever

By Christopher J. Jarmick

 

Years later

despite everything that happened

he still thought of her,

at times missed her

knew he still loved her.

 

There were no illusions

that he should

or even could

be with her.

He remember clearly

how much he hated her.

 

But she was one

he truly loved

and always would.

 

The others faded.

Good memories mostly

or clear marks on the path

remembered only here and there

with touch of bittersweet nostalgia perhaps,

but easily put back away

to be nearly forgotten once again.

 

The ones you really loved

are anarchists never controlled

only managed, until

suddenly when least expected

the banks of the creek breached

emotions, regrets, guilt, anger flood,

and the depressing reminder that

love was not enough after all.

 

Effort and strength

expended to bury her again. . .

reinforce the locks, rebuild the

banks, engineer a better flood plain. . .

there’s no doubt

she’ll return,

to haunt you

soon again.

 

 

Teresa’s Prompt 6 Poem

Use river names to write your poem

 

Threads in the River

By Teresa Jarmick

 

Niobrara goes to street dances, drinks.

Wild in a pickup truck star gazing, listening to dreams.

White Republican sunbathing topless April,

bronchitis, voiceless a month, trying to fit in.

Little Nemaha all but forgotten twirling on

green sculptured carpet in her favorite dress, watchers gone.

Shoshone graduated from everything, hair included.

Nishnabotna married, carried, buried.

She survived betrayal.

Platte the adventuress refuses boundaries,

carries on through fear.

Missouri waits for us all.

 

Enjoy!

 

 

Keep Writing!

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