Tag Archives: NaPoWriMo

NaPoWriMo Day 29

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Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to choose a poem by Sylvia Plath and write a poem that responds or engages with the chosen Plath poem in some way. I chose Elm. I noticed that three of its fourteen verses started with I am,” so that phrase became the mantra on which I based my poem.

Death_to_stock woman drinking coffee on bed

 

Identity
by ARHuelsenbeck

I am alone
in a room full of people. I am invisible.
I am unknown.

I am a shadow
of my former self, quiet where I used to be loud,
slow where I used to be quick.

I am a memory
long forgotten, a distant past, an ancient
history.

I am terrified
of the dark, of the things hidden inside darkness, of the dark things
hidden inside me.

I am inhabited
by thoughts, divergent thoughts, fighting to be written down before
they are forgotten forever.

I am incapable
of holding a grudge. I must forgive. I create myriad possible explanations
for behavior that initially offended me.

I am an observer.
The once unnoticed is now a specimen to be studied. The simple is intricate,
the complex plain.

I am aware
of silent songs. A hush whispers expectations. A sigh speaks
a soliloquy.

I weep in the face of beauty.
The Creator must love me, to have designed wonders for me
that no one else can see.

Youth is wrested
from my grasp. I would rather not look back.
Let me forget and move forward.

I am arthritic.
Movement is pain. Pleasure comes
only with great cost.

I yearn for peace,
for a day without obligation, without schedule, without agenda,
without purposeless hurry.

I am impatient
for the next chapter. I’ve been stalled far too long.
The familiar is contemptible.

I am ready—
ready to enter my eternal home, ready to meet my Master.
I am, I am, I am.

NaPoWriMo Day 27

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NaPoWriMo Day 27

I’m not using the NaPoWriMo prompt today. When I looked at The Daily Post prompt, notable, it reminded me of notes. I used to be an elementary general music teacher, and last night I had a recurring dream: I suddenly had to go back to work, and they gave me an unfamiliar room and no class lists, and I had no lesson plans prepared, and my first class arrived…

Treble_Clef_Barnstar public domain

Note Able
by ARHuelsenbeck

Young voices singing slightly out of tune
Their fervor making up for lack of skill
Recorders blaring, grating, sounding shrill
My music teacher’s ears from harm immune

Round hand drums pounding jungle rhythms loud
Slim rhythm sticks articulating beat
The xylophones play melodies so sweet
While dancers improvise their movements proud

My chord progressions steadily keep time
While tambourines crescendo to the end
Triangles and maracas with them blend
While glockenspiels and finger cymbals chime

Not long ago these were my daily themes
But now they’re relegated to my dreams

 

NaPoWriMo Day 22

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Today’s prompt is to choose an impossible statement to compose a poem about.

sad girl nguyen-nguyen-564338-unsplash

 

a circle can’t have corners
by ARHuelsenbeck

in a forgotten corner she sits invisible
observing the popular girls
talking laughing
their circle an impenetrable wall
keeping her out uninvited

in first grade they were all friends
in seventh they are not
she is excluded
whispered about
mocked
different
other

NaPoWriMo Day 21

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Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem that plays with the myth of Narcissus.

Narcissus masaaki-komori-629914-unsplash

Echo
by ARHuelsenbeck

I hear those blasted pipes, pipes
I turn and see Pan, Pan
With his horny head, head
And his hairy legs, legs
With their cloven hooves, hooves
Grotesque, tesque

I turn away and gaze at my love, love
His handsome face mirrored in the water, ter
Why don’t you return my feelings, lings
Your eyes seek only your own face, face
Could it be there’s nothing there, there
Just a shallow reflection, tion

NaPoWriMo Day 19

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I’m off-prompt today.

First Lutheran Church Washburn, North Dakota

 

Maundy Thursday
by ARHuelsenbeck

The last rays of light barely illuminate the stained glass windows.
It’s not a Sunday; no one is required to attend tonight.
Nevertheless, a crowd of hushed worshippers sit expectantly.
I’m blessed to be among them.
I belong here.
I’ll be ringing in the handbell choir.
The choir will sing.
The sanctuary will peal with praise.
The Good News will be proclaimed.
Six boys will experience the Lord’s Supper for the first time.
At the close of the service, we’ll each light a candle and place it in the holders on the altar.
Our prayers will rise to the throne of God.

NaPoWriMo Day 18

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Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to revise someone else’s poem from the bottom up. I used Mary Oliver’s RiceI then moved one line to a different place and edited it some more.

Oryza_sativa_-_Köhler–s_Medizinal-Pflanzen-232

 

Give Thanks for the Rice
by ARHuelsenbeck

Say a blessing that overflows, like mud seeping through your fingers
(Move over so you don’t get any on the tablecloth)
For the rice so recently boiling in shimmering water
Don’t eat until you’re satisfied
Get up from the table
Where the wineglass holds tiger’s blood
Return to the fields with me
The crop is ready to release its sustenance
The kernels feathery among the grasses
So slender and erect
Shaded by wild animals
Product of mud

NaPoWriMo Day 13

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Today’s prompt is to up-end the words or meaning of a familiar phrase.

ducks-in-a-row-236325_640

 

Getting your ducks…
by ARHuelsenbeck

From the kitchen doorway I watched
as my three-year-old son
balanced on a chair pulled over to the​ sink,
squirted dish detergent into the water.
Grabbing a washcloth​,
he scrubbed his Tonka truck,
then lovingly polished it with a towel.
Finally, he took a discarded ribbon
from my sewing room,
and tied it round his toy.
When he noticed me, I asked,
Watcha doin’? He answered,
Getting my truck all shined up in a bow.