NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 27

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Thanks to Tim Cooper @tcooper86 for making this photo available freely on Unsplash Sunflower flower

A strange thing happened this morning. My poetry buddy messaged me and said, “Theres no prompt for today, what shall we do?”

Immediately I pulled up NaPoWriMo and sound he was right.

In this climate of global pandemic, I truly hope that the person who gives the prompts is healthy and well. I’m sending all my positivity and prayer for good health his/her way today.

This year marks my eighth year of participating in NaPoWriMo, and in all those years, I have never experienced a day without a prompt. My buddy laid down the challenge of writing a triolet today (no, not “toilet”, autocorrect).

A triolet is a poem of eight lines, typically of eight syllables each, rhyming abaaabab and so structured that the first line recurs as the fourth and seventh and the second as the eighth.

Sounds like some weird crazy poetry torture device, doesn’t it?

Well, I finished off my coffee and found this helpful cheat chart.

Triolet Lines:
1. A
2. B
3. a Rhymes with 1st line.
4. A identical to 1st line.
5. a Rhymes with 1st line.
6. b Rhymes with 2nd line.
7. A Identical to 1st line.
8. B Identical to 2nd line.

Armed with this information and another cup of Roast House coffee, I penned this triolet. It seemed very fitting of our first potentially 80 degree day after a long bleak winter.

Sunflowers 

Face the sun and there’s no shadow
like all the good sunflowers do.
Upturned face in aureate glow
face the sun and there’s no shadow.
when glory blooms in the meadow,
those feelings of goodness ensue;
face the sun and there’s no shadow
like all the good sunflowers do.

—A draft Triolet by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

If you enjoyed my little venture, please comment in the section below. Wishing you a face full of sunshine today.

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 25

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Check out this amazing time lapse video by Thomas Nelson found in this great little article about meteor showers.
https://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/us_5405066?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000043&ir=Science

The prompt for today was to write an “occasional” poem—a poem suited to, or written for, a particular occasion.

So I decided to write about a few memorable occasions. Welcome a few of my favorite memories.

Magic of Moments

I will never forget
the magic of his arrival,
relating not so much
to the nature of life,
but to the heart
of love itself—
a powerful catapult
a dance of irrevocable joy,
an electrifying connection,
an explosion of love.

Like the day
I saw her
come my way,
unfettered and
underestimated,
free wheeling and
free thinking, unbound
by convention
without an ounce
of pretension.

Like the moment
when a thousand
meteors exploded
in the august sky,
when wispy green fairies
twirled their skirts
behind the northern lights.

Like when the hawk
spread his wings
above our heads,
leading the way into
the flaming birch forest.

How can anyone not
believe in magic—
the humdrum, mundane
everyday magic of life?

—- A Draft Poem by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

Let me know your favorite moments in the comments below.

NaPoWrMo 2021 Day 24

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Little Wonder Himself –
Twelve never looked so good!

Today’s prompt was a fun one. I had to find a factual article about an animal. I needed to go through the article and replace the name of the animal with something else and then rearrange and edit into a poem.

I chose an article in National Geography on sandhill cranes and replaced “sandhill crane”with “middle schooler”.

Middle School and More

The sound that signals spring
more than any other sound
is the rattling, staccato calls
of gangly middle schoolers

winging their way into class.
Sitting shivering amid
the chickweed, dandelion greens,
and residual remains

of sedge grasses, I find them
listening intently to gossip
as only pre-teens can do.
I notice how they call

to each other with a kind of
guttural growling texture
like a spoon raking rhythmically
over a metal washboard.

Spring brings all varieties
to the yard—the trumpeters,
the secretive, the seasoned
by siblings, the happy-go-lucky.

But the true spring showstopper
is the middle schooler who jogs
across the schoolyard, wraps his arms
around me and says, “Love you, mom.”

—A Draft Poem for my own Little Wonder with love from Mama

Let me know what you think in the comments below. 🤗

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 23

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Today’s prompt encouraged me to read another poet’s work and glean an idea or image.

The challenge was to write a poem that responds, in some way, to the other poem.

I used, “In That Other Fantasy Where We Live Forever,” by Wanda Coleman and used her phrase “we rebelled against the southwestern wind”. It’s definitely a work in progress.

The Wind 

We rebelled against the southwestern wind, the cold northern front, and Santa Claus;

he was NOT the reason for the season, after all.

Somehow we believed our lives were better as we drank in dogma between sips of sherbet punch at the potluck.

We were rebels with a cause, after all.

We were on the journey with Jesus and the Gospel coalition, traveling together, celebrating dedications (instead of baptisms), ordinances (instead of sacraments), and knowing that our way was The Way to life everlasting: Sola gratia, Sola fide, and Sola scriptura.

O sole mio! We were enlightened with the truth after all.

We wore one piece bathing suits as a sign of purity and culottes down to our knees to hide any immodesty. We didn’t go to dances or play with playing cards, and under no circumstances whatsoever did we curse.

We knew such things were of the devil, after all.

Everything changed the day I actually met the southwestern wind, with the rays of the sun shining like hair from her head. I had been fearful really, of seeing things through her eyes. But we sat under the cork tree smelling the flowers and talking until the dawn joined us for coffee, and the rooster crowed.

In that moment I stopped rebelling,
and started believing in Santa Claus.

—A Draft Poem by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

Every poem is a journey. Let me know in the comments below if you enjoyed mine.

NaPoWriMo Day 22

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Back in the good old days before schools were in shutdown. Oh how I miss my classroom!

The prompt for the day was to think of what serves as a metonym for the place I call home and then to write a poem about my chosen symbol that embraces, as well as complicates, what it represents.

To be quite honest, I couldn’t think of a metonym for the place I call home, so I decided to use a variety of different metonyms that describe my life as a teacher.

I hope you enjoy this little Ode to a Teacher.

Ode to a Teacher

While the world works away at a 9 to 5
and comes home for some R & R to revive,
the teacher’s day has only just begun.
Success demands each night teachers do a dry run

to prepare for the next all-consuming day
in order that children to knowledge belay.
While most teachers daily calm storms in their rooms
to encourage their scholars to grow and bloom.

There are papers to grade and work to assign
to keep all the littles on track and in line.
Even when school is no longer in session,
teachers still must work to hone their profession;

the licensing law says they must hit the books
or suffer the principal’s big dirty looks.
So when the world seems to run on 9 to 5;
there will always be teachers in overdrive.

They will pick up the slack for parents and friends
making way less money without dividends.
As a teacher myself, I must tell it straight,
copping-out is not something I contemplate.

—a draft poem by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

How many metonyms can you count? Let me know in the comments below.

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 21

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Photo Credit: Cartoon published on https://medium.com/loving-mindful/the-blind-men-and-the-elephant-50d2e983ba8d

Today the challenge was to write a poem that uses lines that have a repetitive set-up. So I started my process wondering, and the poem began to write itself.

The Blind Man


I wonder
exactly what I have
in common with the blind man
who lives on Crescent Street
and the hip hop artist
who plays at the club.

I wonder
what secrets we all hold
hidden inside our mouths,
behind our teeth, buried
in the clear, translucent
whiteness of our eyes.

I wonder
why making secrets seems
so easy, but keeping
them eats us up from the
inside out; why certain
things weigh more than we think.

I wonder
if we aren’t all like the
blind man, seeing only
what we can touch with our
own two hands, believing
our own imagined truth.

I wonder
as I cross my fingers,
cross my arms over my
heart and take a deep breath
why, after all this time,
hope for change never dims.

—a draft poem by Carla Picklo Jordan

Let me know your thoughts in the comments below! 🤗

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 20

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The prompt for the day was to write a sijo. This is a traditional Korean poetic form. Like the haiku, it has three lines, but the lines are much longer. Typically, they are 14-16 syllables, and optimally each line will consist of two parts – like two sentences, or a sentence of two clauses divided by a comma.

In terms of overall structure, a sijo functions like an abbreviated sonnet, in that the first line sets up an inquiry or discussion, the second line continues the discussion, and the third line resolves it with a “twist” or surprise.

For more on the sijo, check out the primer here and a long list of examples in English, here.

Loss

The startling blue sky woke me from my slumber; I begged for sleep.
The old dreams returned at dawn, stifling the sun with their darkness.
Eyes open, the daylight blinds me with reality; you are gone.

-a draft poem by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

Let me know what you think in the comments below.

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 19

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H

Today’s challenge was to write a humorous rant. In this poem, I had permission to excoriate to my heart’s content all the things that get on my nerves.

Well, I’m not big on excoriation, but I did think of a “Top Ten” list of pet peeves. Maybe you share some.

What are your pet peeves?

My List

Humidity
after the hairdresser,
mosquitoes
buzzing in the black night,
confidence
in church conspiracies,
yellow jackets
stealing summer suppers,
toffee
tidbits trapped in my teeth,
icy
sleet and swirling snowstorms,
talking
before the sun rises,
toothpaste tubes
mangled in the middle,
dishes
stacked slip-slop in the sink,
and people
who pry under pretense—
these
are a few of my least
favorite things. 😉

—a very rough draft by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 17

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Photo credit: @NASA via Unsplash

The challenge today was to stop fighting the moon. Lean in. Accept the moon. The moon just wants what’s best for me and my poems. So yes – write a poem that is about, or that involves, the moon.

Chat the Moon

Chat the moon with me
and I shall fly to mars

Perhaps the stars
will join us there in our

swirling revelry. Hard to say
with all of the black holes

lurking about—those dirty
bastards bellowing bile

and acting like the universe
revolves around their smile.

Ridiculous! Preposterous!
Presumptuous at best,

pernicious at worst,
but now I digress. So

chat me to the moon
with a glint in your eye;

catch a wave of light with me
until gravity draws us

nigh to earth again.

—a draft poem by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

Let me know what you think in the comments below. Share the love, write a poem, appreciate a good friend. Each moment is a new beginning.

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 16

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Poem inspired by this commissioned work by Irina Charny displayed at Church of the Resurrection; Pleasant Hill, California; 2008
Gatekeepers 

Imagine the world
perfected—
a steady humming
of irrepressible joy.

Gather the light—
the sparks
of light dancing
in the shards.

Take the holy—
with kindness,
in gentle hands—
and repair souls.


—a draft by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan

Let me know what you think in the comments below. Share the love, write a poem, appreciate a good friend. Each moment is a new beginning.