NaPoWriMo Days 6 & 7

So much to do, so little time, racing to catch up …

The NaPoWriMo.net prompt for Day 6 was; a poem about food.

Such a huge subject that I didn’t know where to start. In the end, I thought about how different the food I eat today is from my childhood meals. When did ‘traditional British food’ start to change? A little trip down memory lane prompted this haiku:

Tradition destroyed

on the day Mum discovered

Vesta beef curry.

***

Day 7’s prompt was: write a Tritina

It’s a poem with 3 x 3 line stanzas + 1 final line.
It doesn’t have to rhyme, but uses 3 repeating end words in the pattern ABC, CAB, BCA, with all 3 end words appearing in the final line.

It felt more like doing a word puzzle than writing a poem, which is probably why I enjoyed doing it!

Universal child

When you last looked out at the night sky

And tried to count all the twinkling stars

Did you wonder who might be looking at you?

Was it possible another you

Was gazing up at a different sky

Seeking a sign of life among distant stars?

How many planets orbit the stars?

A number so vast it will astound you.

Sextillions of worlds, each with its own sky.

You are unique under this sky, but remember you were made from the stars.

*** 

NaPoWriMo Day 5

The prompt for Day 5 was: a poem inspired by the name of an ‘heirloom’ plant.

The website gave links to a couple of American seed companies, but I did a search for British heirloom seeds and found plenty of inspiration at The Real Seed Catalogue

The Czar is a tall runner bean with white flowers.
Pink Passion chard is a leafy green vegetable with bright pink stalks.
How could I not put them together in a poem?

Mixed vegetables

King of the allotments they called big Joe,

his veg patch was his pride and his joy.

There wasn’t a plant that he couldn’t grow

be it cabbage, spuds, leeks or pak choi.

Sweet little Sal took the plot next to Joe’s,

Her knowledge and skills were both zero.

She asked his advice on spades, rakes and hoes,

Joe was happy to give her the info.

Sal quickly learnt with Joe’s kind tuition,

soon her carrots and onions grew tall.

Novice Sal became Joe’s competition,

he wished he hadn’t helped her at all.

Jealous Joe did his best to avoid her,

took to gardening at unsocial hours.

Sal missed their chats, their laughter and banter,

felt sad as she tended her flowers.

Joe started weeding early one morning

when a friendly ‘hello’ made him squirm.

Sal had popped up, close by with no warning,

cheery as a bird that’s caught a worm.

Sal said ‘I was just admiring your Czar,

it's the biggest one I’ve ever seen.’

But Joe was squinting at something bizarre,

a bright plant in Sal’s bed, red and green.

‘That’s my Pink Passion,’ said Sal with a smile

‘Come to dinner and you’ll have a taste.

Although chard is best with beans Chinese style …’

Joe began stripping Czar in great haste.

Later that year, at the fruit and veg show

Joe and Sal swept the board together,

then sealed their love with a promise to grow

on a double allotment - forever. 

Some of the lines don’t scan as well as I’d like, and I want to come up with a better title, but I might revisit it and polish it up – one day!

NaPoWriMo Day 3 & 4

http://www.napowrimo.net/

 The prompt for Day 3 of this ‘write a poem a day’ challenge was: a poem in the form of a fan letter.

I could think of lots of people I’d like to write such a letter to, mostly writers and artists who have inspired me, but I just couldn’t find the right way to start. By the end of the day, this was all I had produced.

Blank!

I need a poetry idea,

A flash of inspiration,

A clever thought, some pretty words

To boost my reputation.

My mind is blank, there’s nothing there

The muse has gone away.

Long hours tick by, the minutes too,

I’ll try another day.

***

Today, Day 4, was completely different. Prompt: the cruellest month.

My subconscious threw this up amazingly quickly.

The Cruelty of March

A perfect March day,

a day you’ll recall years from now

and assume you are seeing those clichés of spring

 - courting birds, blue sky, skipping lambs -

through lemon-tinted lenses

that make the greens joyous.

Good journey for once,

no hold-ups, wrong turnings or

crawling behind tractors for mile after mile.

Clear roads, windows down, music on

and, at your destination,

a vacant parking spot.

Lovely room, you think,

easy to forget where you are,

a pleasant hotel bedroom or private house perhaps.

Light and airy, pastel colours, a shelf

for all her cards and flowers,

a comfy-looking bed.

You smile, so does she,

and give your gifts with more smiles

hoping they’ll say so much more than your words.

Family news, a strained joke, idle chat

until the interruption of tea

gives blessed relief.

Beautiful view, you say,

as you stand and cross to the window.

The gardens are a picture today, have you seen?

Daffodils, primroses, buds on the trees,

and can you hear that blackbird

singing his heart out?

You hope for a moment,

she’ll ask you to take her outside or at least

make the effort to sit up and enjoy this first day of spring.

She lies quiet, still, eyes half-closed,

and you want to bite your cruel tongue

for talking of new life.  

   

I’m sure it can be improved, and I’ll keep it in my ‘to be edited’ file, but I’m quite pleased with this first draft.

NaPoWriMo Day 2

(I did write this on April 2 - honest! - but didn’t have time to post it here.)

Prompt: a family portrait

The only photo I have of my great-grandmother shows a very stern-looking woman …

Old photograph

Sitting so stiff and straight,

the great-grandma I never met

stares at the camera

down the years

towards me.

And these are her children,

only names on the family tree

except this young girl

who became

dear, old Nan.

I recognise her face,

but not the prim and proper pose

or solemn gaze so

unlike the

one I knew.

‘Ah, the old days,’ she said,

and laughed at the memories she shared.

‘Yes, times were hard, and yet,

we did have

such larks!’

I see a new picture.

Photographer nods, mother smiles,

children blink and stretch.

They did it.

They kept still

for a whole minute!

It needs tidying up, but I'm quite pleased with it. 

NaPoWriMo Day 1

I had no idea what to write for the first day of the NaPoWriMo challenge. Luckily, they post an optional prompt for each day on their website so I had a look at that. Today’s prompt was to write a LUNE.

It’s a three line poem with

                              five syllables in the first line

                              three in the second

                              and five in the last line

or you can use five, three and five whole words instead of syllables.

I tried the word version first:

                             Write a lune they said

                             so I did 

                             but is it a poem?

(My answer was ‘No!’)

After much pondering and editing I came up with this one counting the syllables:

                             In soft lunar light

                             courting loons

                             sing sweet lunes of love.

And then I tried both forms using the same idea:

          (words)   April the artist splashes pink

                                and white blossom

                                all over her brightest greens.

      (syllables)   April paints pink and

                                white blossom

                                on her brightest green.

Not happy with any of them, but it’s a start!

 

Strange times

A conversation I had yesterday:

‘Must remember to alter the clocks tonight.’

‘Ah yes, forwards or backwards?’

‘Forward one hour.’

‘So if I go to bed at eleven, I’ll have to change my bedside clock to twelve.’

‘You don’t have to. It doesn't officially change until two in the morning. But if you don’t, and forget to do it when you wake up, you’ll be an hour behind everyone else tomorrow.’

‘So that means I’ll lose an hour of sleep tonight.’

‘Unless you go to bed at ten.’

‘Good idea. If I go to bed at ten, change the clock to eleven, set the alarm for eight, when it rings it will really only be seven o’ clock. That means I’ll gain an extra hour.’

‘That can’t be right.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because, um, …’

We’ve been changing the clocks twice a year for as long as I can remember, so why does it still seem so complicated?!

Happy Easter

 whatever time it is where you are.

The real life benefits of made-up stories

It seems to me that there are two sorts of people: those who ‘get’ fiction, and those who don’t. While some of us see nothing strange in becoming totally involved with a fictional character who only lives in a novel, play or film, there are others who look on with puzzled frowns.

‘But it’s not real,’ they say. ‘There’s no such place, no such person. Why waste your time on something that’s pure make-believe?’

Here’s one of my reasons …

I was dreading going to the dentist. Over the years, I’ve had enough traumatic experiences connected with my teeth and dentists to fill a non-fiction book, one of those depressing misery memoirs. But, once again, I had a dental problem and knew I'd have to be brave if I wanted to solve it. Delaying a visit would only make matters worse.

My appointment wasn’t until the afternoon so, instead of worrying about it all morning, I tried to distract myself by working on my latest short story. I managed to write a few paragraphs, but the words weren’t flowing and I soon ground to a halt. I knew what had to happen next in the story but I couldn’t find the right way to explain it. After several attempts, I gave up.

In the dentist’s chair, I relaxed physically as much as I could while trying to convince myself that the ordeal would soon be over. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and – there it was! The next sentence in my story. It was perfect. It moved the story on quickly and clearly, exactly as I’d wanted. I ‘wrote’ the next sentence, and the next, repeating them over and over to myself so I wouldn’t forget them. (Yes, I did have a notebook in my bag but I didn’t think the dentist would appreciate me stopping his work so I could get on with mine.)

I can’t truthfully say I was oblivious to what was happening in my mouth, but having something more important to concentrate on certainly lessened the anxiety. I was almost sorry when the treatment was over. Another two minutes and I’d have been writing THE END.

As soon as I was back in the real world of course, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough!

Do you have any practical uses for fiction?