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NaPoWriMo Day13 – Prompt for April 13, 2015

April 12, 2015

Welcome to Day 13 of NaPoWriMo.  My Birthday celebration (on the 12th) forces me to post this early  (oh the horror). . .  so we’ll talk about Monday the 13th…   It’s Erasure Monday!   I know a lot of you would be happy to erase some Mondays from the calendar… but I’m referring to our prompt (of course).

Reminder:  At Bethany’s site, you’ll find a selected favorite poem every day. Some of the poems might be among your favorites already, while others might not be as familiar to you and you’ll make a new exciting discovery.   Check out the website here.

 DAY 13  – NaPoWriMo Prompt for  April 13, 2015 

 Erasure.   Take a magazine article, essay or text of more than 1500 words (yes you can use a few pages from a book) and eliminate words, leaving behind your poem.  You’ll want to transform the text into something completely different than what it is by doing this.    You can fudge just a little bit by adding a few modifiers and connecting words if absolutely needed (the, and) but keep the words in the order they would be in the article.  We aren’t rearranging the words, or borrowing words and phrases to reassemble into a (cut-out) poem (William Burroughs style)…we are creating an erasure poem.   Some always ask… is this really a thing?  A way people ‘write’ poetry?   It is indeed… and it does take patience, skill and some craft to do it very well.  You can create a meter or even rhyme if you want… though don’t be tempted to change word order around…. (if you need to change a tense…add an ‘ed’ or ‘s’…I think that’s okay… some don’t… so it’s up to you).   Have at it NaPoWriMo-ers…..

 NAPOWRIMO PROMPT 11 POEMS

Prompt 11

Parody

 Old Lie, New Lie, Red Lie, Blue Lie

(With apologies to Dr. Seuss and one, two, red, blue fish).

By Christopher J. Jarmick

 

Old lie

New lie

Red lie

Blue lie

 

This one’s from

a rising star

driving big, big, car

Say!  What a lot

of lies there are.

 

Yes, some are red

And some are blue

Some are old.

And some are new

 

Some are sad

And some are mad

And some are very, very bad.

 

Why are they sad and mad and bad

I do not know

It’s just a fad.

 

I do not like

And must tell

the one who seems

to yell yell yell

I don’t like him anywhere about

I hope we’ll soon

just vote him out.

 

In that big house

they open cans.

They have to open

many cans,

And this may give you squirms

because inside

are lots of ugly worms.

 

This shouldn’t be

you surely see

the worms are not

for you and me,

time has forgot

ones this slimey,

 

The ones who never died

were simply sealed inside

unmarked cans and put away

to be forgotten, until this day.

 

Oh woe is he to be found out

with open cans of worms.

But he can’t cry or pout

Better to blame germs

who have less clout.

 

It’s just a tricky game

they like to play.

Elected folk we won’t name

have lots to say

and like their fame

So what the hey,

they’re all the same.

 

Today is done, Today was one

Tomorrow could be more fun

Every day

when you ask why

someone else will likely lie.

Just shrug and smile

Most are vile

You knew

there’s few

you could trust

So Do not cry

But if you must

Just

let out a little sigh.

 

He Lie

You Lie

She Lie

We Lie

 

Old Lie

New Lie

Red Lie

Blue Lie.

 

Teresa’s Prompt 11  Parody Poem

A parody/homage to  A Happy Birthday by Ted Kooser

Chris, Happy Birthday Poem

By Teresa Jarmick

 

This morning, I sat in your coffee space

and watched till my eyes were bright and our heart

was more than a part of the daily routine.

I could easily have left for work,

but I wanted to savor this day quietly watching

you sit alone and soothe the unreadable urge

to write words with your pale smooth hand.

 

Ted Kooser’s A Happy Birthday is here

 

 Writers Digest Poem-A-Day Prompt 11

Write a season poem

Mrs. Nature’s Humor

By Christopher J. Jarmick

 

Straight-face sun tickles.

Strollers see

laughter sparkling off lake.

 

Teresa’s poem for Prompt 10

Write a Dead metaphor poem.

 Presidential Race

By Teresa Jarmick

White as rice, he’s over the moon, California dreaming running

For office giddy as a schoolgirl. Doesn’t see the forest

For the trees, trips

Falls like a log, loses face.

Blind as a bat, he walks on

Egg shells like water under the bridge

Phoning home.

 

 

Enjoy.

 

 

Keep writing!

 

 

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