NaPoWriMo Begins!

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Welcome to National Poetry Writing Month!

All this month, I will be doing my best to write regular updates, specifically poems. If I’m being honest, this blog is really just a poetry blog, since I rarely put my short stories or difficulties with the writing process here. Still, I like the idea that I may put other types of writing here, so don’t expect that to change.

But wait, it’s already April 2! I guess that means I have to catch up…

04.01 – Small

Wrapped in a giant white towel, my feet don’t reach the end of the chair.
Dwarfed by vaulted ceilings and tall windows, tucked into the hollow space of a building so grand and indifferent as to render me invisible.
How is it, being so tiny, so inconsequential,
I can at the same time feel trapped in
the increasing size of my own skin?
That my girth somehow compares in scale?
My mint tea arrives.
I set it on my tummy.
A big girl and a small cup in a big room.
The symmetry is poetic.

04.02 – The band

Would you like it polished gold
Or burnished copper plating?
Recycled from an antique mold
with palladium engraving?
Tungsten is more avant-garde
Silver is antique
Choosing one is always hard
When the choice is more unique.
Now do you want a tasteful stone
An imprint or engraving?
Inlaid with lacquer, set with bone
Cliched words worth saving?
We’ll do it up with leaves and crowns
Or wrap it round in tangles
We’ll acidify the whole thing down
To rustic, hardcore angles~
We’ll polish it to ice-cube sheen
We’ll drill it to the core
A finer band you’ve never seen
Than the thousands seen before!

***

Gah, ok, I can’t end it and it’s so late. Headache settling in says it’s time to try again. I keep trying to take a step back at the end, change to an AABB couplet, but it’s not sounding right. It’s already sort of cliched – the couplets, meant to summarize, just sound patronizing.

I forgot how hard poetry can be…

Lamenting the Perfect Purse

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Of course you are animal skin.

Primal, supple, presumably false skin.

You are not a cheap tan, a big box brown. 

No, you are the color of aged muscat.

Amber from an ancient tree.

The bee’s best kept secret.

Three shades of snake and leather.

And you are soft.

Better than butter, melted in a congealing puddle

You are the pads of a puppy’s foot

Untouched by the ground, welcoming fingers.

You take to my hand like a tango

And tease me to whisk you away

To settle you on my arm, nestle you in my crooks,

Walk through the world with a new wonder.

Alas.

My shoe are frayed around the edges and dark on the soles.

There is no place for you in my world.

And so remain, oh fantasy of ownership,

A gentle, sad longing to ebb away until the next season.

 

 

High End Shopping

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High End Shopping

I don’t give off the proper scent
To walk into Yves Saint Laurent.
For Prada I got nadda.
And Gucci, Burberry and Fendi
Cannot bear to look at me.
I have no accord with Tom Ford.
Salvatore Ferragamo
Looked me over and said “No.”
I was at a loss with Boss.
Try Dolce? Or Gabbana?
With my debit I don’t wanna.
My swan sang for Vera Wang.
My hips lament how far they’ve gone
When they see Louis Vuitton.
I won’t give more to Dior.
Dooney liked me, but Burke
Was such a fiscal jerk!
I cannot pay for Hermès.
Where else could I possibly go,
Since you won’t have me, Valentino?
Jimmy Choo, the same to you.

I don’t get why shopping’s a chore
I can’t even enter most of the stores!

At least you’ll never turn on me.
Thank you, Coldstone Creamery.

 

 

—–

 

I started this one singing it like Garrison Keillor does – I can hear the band and his breathy voice making all those goofy rhymes.

Man, I haven’t had Coldstone Creamery in ages….