OctPoWriMo Day 28: Hunger

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I’ve followed many of the prompts, and had the double joy of play and discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was to write a poem to fit this equation:

Prompt: Hunger + Secondary Emotion = Your Poem

Add to HUNGER another, secondary emotion of your own choosing.

Possibilities include

sadness

joy

ambition

lust

yearning

self doubt

boredom

(or fetch your own via five minutes of free writing on the theme of hunger.)

Hunger

Hunger

    is the

             slinking

      sinuous

prowling

      hollowed

      stray

                tom cat

       of the

empty

soul

Yesterday’s poem was epic, so maybe it’s fitting that today’s is a mere 15 words….

But 14 potent words, born of one of my first memories. I was in my crib, walking back and forth running my hand along the rail = I liked the cool smoothness of the plastic bite guard under my fingertips. It was daytime, and I was waiting for my mother to come upstairs and release me from my nap. There was a small high window near the foot of the crib, and, as I looked out the window, I saw Hunger.

Hunger was a local stray, big headed and with prominent ribs – and, back in the early 70s where spaying and neutering weren’t mentioned much, I suppose, he had a seemingly endless appetite for scraps and our tortoiseshell cat, Hudson.

I watched Hunger strut and stalk through our yard, aware of everything around him, and I thought that “Hunger” was the perfect name for him…even as a toddler, words have been a playground for me.

And, even at the age of 45, if someone says the word “hunger”, that beat up, half-starved prowling creature of appetite will be the first image-meaning that slips into my mind…

I’m not sure if the secondary emotion comes through, or is just implied- it’s emptiness, loneliness – and maybe a touch of nostalgia.

Hungry for more OctPoWriMo?

OctPoWriMo Day 27: Just a Dream of Broken Hearts

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Seven!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I intend to follow many of the prompts, and get the joy of discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was to write a poem that dealt with sleep or dreaming….

And they’ve been in my head, showing me what happens, when they dream…

So I gave them 1300 words or so to each say their piece; of course, they both surprised me. Then I went through both passages, and created a list of found phrases, which, adapted, became the components of this blended dream.

If I pulled it off, you will feel two distinct voices throughout….

Warning: this is a rather epic poem, at over 700 words. No, I didn’t plan that!

And for those who care – SPOILER ALERT! This poem has MAJOR, HUGE, BIG-TIME SPOILERS for the Star Trek: Enterprise episode “Home” and points surrounding. Don’t go further if you don’t wanna know…

Disclaimer: T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!

Word Prompts:

sleep (sleepy, sleeping)

dream (dreaming, dreamer)

nap

awake

insomnia

Just a Dream of Broken Hearts

“oh god, T’Pol – why can’t

this be just a dream?”

you watched her get married

she’s Koss’s wife not yours

you have no right to her now

it’s his bed she’ll share tonight

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

her beautiful face blurred

and ran with my tears and hers

an old oil painting melting

beneath her hot red sun

What right had Koss to me?

Angry blood seared my veins.

“oh god, T’Pol – why can’t

this be just a dream?”

not the friendly sands of Florida

sands of another world

red sands where she

sacrificed herself

on the altar of her logic

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

My nails dug into my palms.

“I must meditate.”

To whom did I speak?

There was no one here.

“oh god, T’Pol – why can’t

this be just a dream?”

“She’s mine – “

“Yes, Trip – I am yours – “

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

Koss had the right

to take me as wife.

“oh god T’Pol – why can’t this

just be a damned dream?”

we moved together

no hurry but unspoken urgency

bodies and minds and souls

tangled together

inseparably forever

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

In this space, I could pretend…

Pretend if I went out the door,

turned left, rounded the corner,

and crossed the corridor,

felt it rising surging

bursting forth – power

and crushing pain

that I would be at Trip’s door -

he would welcome me in,

her citrus-and-sandalwood

arousal scent blended

with the salt air of home

He’d take me into his arms

and I would come fully to life.

“oh god T’Pol – why does this

have to be just a dream?”

her eyes glowed and it was almost

as if I could feel what she felt

touch what she touched

know what she knew

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

hot fingers trailed down my chest

plasma arc of sharing

everywhere she touched

Peace slipped away and popped

like the soap bubbles on Trip’s chest.

“oh god T’Pol – why does this

have to be just a dream?”

to lose myself in her fierce bliss

popping like soap bubbles

under her virgin fingers

as she learned at last how

to play just play

without purpose

but just

for fun

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

“You don’t play nearly

enough, pepperpot.”

Vulcan children did not ever

Play simply to play.

she was opening receiving

all I could give

giving so much more

than I thought she had

“oh god T’Pol – why does this

have to be just a dream?”

What he’d fanned into vibrant life,

now dull, numb, broken toys.

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

“don’t suppose that’s sugar-free pie?”

sugars hit her hard and fast

take logic and inhibition

toss them out the airlock

we don’t need them now

My hot touch excites him

Into vivid human flame.

“oh god T’Pol – why does this

have to be just a dream?”

she rained kisses on my face and I

kissed her pecan pie tasting mouth

deeper and deeper breathing her in

but never breathing her out

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

hot sticky smears over my chest

before I could say anything but “hey!”

well she certainly learned how to play

“oh god T’Pol – why can’t this

be more than just a dream?”

Tempt me from solitude

And quiet meditation

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

her hot breath came sharp and quick

cutting through the sounds of the waves

and the gulls and the setting sun

Cool human fingers soothing

The heat of my hungry skin.

“oh god T’Pol – what does it mean

that we’re dreaming the same dream?”

Our tumultuous bubble of peace

Punctured by tradition and duty.

she kissed my cheek and

gave me the gift of

her thoughts and her tears

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

Find more dreamy OctPoWriMo poems here!

OctPoWriMo Day 26: The 90-Second Fear Ride

Want more poetic fear rides? Click the icon to learn more!

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Six!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I intend to follow many of the prompts, and get the joy of discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

  • Today’s prompt was “Face Your Fear”. We were offered a list of word prompts – I managed to use most of them, nearly all in just two lines, which I think is pretty cool:

  • Frightening

  • Darkness

  • Spooky

  • Mysterious

  • Thud

  • Striking

  • Midnight

  • Pounding

I’m going to do things a little differently today. Instead of introducing the poem and talking a little about the process of its creation first, I’m going to leap right into sharing, and chat after the fact! Change can be scary, but here goes!

Scarily Sweet!

The 90-Second Fear Ride

Heart

Pounding

Fear message

Limbic system

Ancient reptile mind

Hides beneath all reason

Surges up and takes control

Muscles tense; ready to fight or flee

Instincts rule; emotion enslaves me

Self-preservation my priority

A ninety-second thrill ride of terror

Mysterious thud in the darkness

Something spooky strikes the window

Flinch from the man-shaped shadow

Cringing as it leans in

Mind re-engages

Lone sunflower

Peeking in

I planted

It.

Now for the funny part – this is absolutely an autobiographical poem!

One spring, when my kids were much smaller, we planted mammoth sunflowers in the backyard. Rabbits have a tendency to stop by for a dawn and dusk daily browse, and they seem to adore sunflower sprouts, so I planted a patch right beside our bow window, which is in the living room.

My Accomplice in Mischief is a chef, which means the kids and I spend most evenings alone together, a fact we’re all used to, but which started to take on major significance one night, when I kept feeling as though we were being watched through that window. Finally, I spun around – and cringed in terror at the sight of a silhouetted form leaning in to watch us…

Um, yeah. Make that the heavy-headed ripe seven foot sunflower I’d planted…

Recently, I read My Stroke of Insight, by Jill Bolte Taylor. She mentions the limbic system, and the fact that limbic responses are autonomic, but only last about 90 seconds, after which time we can choose what we do next. That’s where the title came from.

I wrote this poem as a double etheree, so that the beginning punch of terror, and the punch line at the end, would have impact, and I kept the source of the fear to myself for a while…

I like the way this one turned out – especially since there was in fact no window lurker!

Find more OctPoWriMo terror – if you dare!

OctPoWriMo Day 25: Cowl Invites Touch

Want to know more? Click the icon!

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Five!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I intend to follow many of the prompts, and get the joy of discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was “Magic and Possibilities”. We were encouraged to freewrite for 10 minutes, and offered a list of word prompts:

  • Fascinating

  • Captivating

  • Enchanting

  • Magnetic

  • Irresistible

Well, I was a bit of an overachiever with today’s poem.

When I looked at the word list, I noticed it used several words or ideas with my 100 word flash fiction story for Story a Day May. Since that story’s part of my evolving Star Trek: Enterprise fan fiction project, The IDIC Romance, I’ve been intending to expand it.

I chose the first time Trip encounters T’Pol, in a jazz club in San Francisco (see the episode “Fusion” for more), as the basis for my frewriting – and I wrote 2,000 words!

I do love me some Trip and T’Pol, but that’s another story, and not a poem at all…

I decided that Trip’s poem would be a blitz, which seems to suit his rapid-fire yet laid-back personality well…and this poem might even become part of the story that inspired it…

I love it when a challenge becomes more than the sum of its parts!

Cowl Invites Touch

Alien woman prowls in

Face framed by a cowl

Cowl hides pointed ears

Cowl names her Vulcan

Vulcan eyes search

Vulcan eyes stare

Stare into me

Stare and declare

Declare alien yearnings

Declare Vulcan fires

Fires hot and unexpected

Fires like plasma arcs

Arcs sear and burn

Arcs scorch through soft jazz

Jazz binding us together

Jazz winding through us both

Both caught in arcing music

Both caught up in a breath

Breath tangles into music

Breath exhales wanting

Wanting this to never end

Wanting so much more

More music more time

More whatever this is

Is she feeling what I do

Is she even able to feel

Feel her heart beat faster

Feel hot blood in her veins

Veins green-hued not red

Veins from mind to heart

Heart opening to heart

Heart conquers mind

Mind pleads for reason

Mind begs for logic

Logic burned by plasma fire

Logic utterly undone

Undone by Vulcan eyes

Undone by shadows

Shadows moving softly

Shadows on her face

Face transformed by music

Face inconvenient facts

Facts of human man

Facts of Vulcan woman

Woman breathing in music

Woman I long to touch

Touch her deep within

Touch her man to woman

Woman

Within

Find more OctPoWriMo magic!

OctPoWriMo Day 24: A matter of degree?

Need more OctPoWriMo?! Click the icon!

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Four!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I intend to follow all the prompts, and get the joy of discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was about reality checks and guilty pleasures, and there were some word prompts, too:

Word Prompts:

Dance

Fashion

Make-up

Tattoos

I struggled with this; I didn’t have a feel for a poem in this topic. Instead, I combined it with the Stream-of-Consciousness Saturday prompt for this week, degree/degrees. I then used the text to create a found poem, adapting some of the text to (I hope) reveal my conflicting viewpoints on both prompts.

Or maybe not. I’m tired today, and distracted by other projects. Still, it’s a poem, there was a process, and, for me, there’s value in that, whether I hit the mark or not….

A matter of degree?

“It’s a matter of degree, “

“You’re lucky you didn’t

have MY mother.”

abuses and jagged edges

a matter of degree-

but abuse damages

not a matter of degree,

the nature of the abuse,

of abuser and abused…

long, intense journey,

hoops that must be jumped through,

tests that must be passed,

years of dedicated effort…

to attain a degree,

atestament to effort put forth,

all the requirements met,

level of expertise attained…

Does a piece of paper or sheepskin,

on the wall say anything

It can’t tell the passions,

can’t say whether it was

personal choice,

a calling,

something orchestrated

by one’s parents.

broken under the weight

of debt, or wasted time…

traveling,

working in a grocery store,

as a dancer or

a tattoo artist or

volunteering or

many other things

prefer to learn for learning’s sake

native intelligence for cooking,

or acting,

or working with children,

or plants,

or animals.

passionately

interested in things that

offer no degree,

lifetime delving them

in blissful absorption

figure things out

as they go along,

sit in a lecture hall

while someone else

shares their impressions

people with their own ideas –

innovators and inventors

of our future,

seeking out new ways

of thinking and doing

nothing wrong with

having a degree,

nothing wrong with

going through a life

without a degree

something wrong with

living a life that doesn’t 

fulfill, enthuse, and delight

an infinitely higher

degree of worth

Get more OctPoWriMo here!

OctPoWriMo Day 23: I Forget to Write a Poem

Want to write or read with us? Click the icon!

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Three!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I intend to follow all the prompts, and get the joy of discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt is “Another chapter begins”. There is a list of phrase prompts:

  • Another chapter begins…

  • Turn the page….

  • And then there was….

  • I begin again….

  • And then there was….

  • Now it is time to write….

I had an idea. But then something happened.

I forgot to write a poem.

It’s not that I meant to forget. A few times, I remembered. While I was in the middle of plotting a scene. When I was in the middle of untangling a revision passage. Just as my daughter came in to tell me that her tadpole, who recently sprouted four functional legs, wasn’t in her tank (a plastic bin with no lid, which was fine for a legless tadpole…but not a froglet who just learned how to hop…

She thought her new little friend was gone forever, and was so happy when I found one frightened looking wee amphibian behind the tank. So there was a slightly hurried preparation of the frog habitat, and now PomPom the frog has a new, bigger, safer home…

And I was writing – getting my gestating novel outline ready for NaNoWriMo, rvising a short story I will be submitting this week, answering blog comments….

And forgetting, again and again, to write a poem – until I looked at the clock, and it was almost 9pm.

And I remembered…

And found that maybe I hadn’t forgotten, after all.

So here is my rather tongue-in-cheek poem for today…

Image credit: Julie Jordan Scott.

And I Forget to Write a Poem

Another chapter begins…

And I move through my novel outline,

And forget to write a poem

Because other words and images

Dance through my head

Plots and subplots

Complex conundrums

Setting up for the third act

And I forget to write a poem

Turn the page….

I move through my short story revision

And forget to write a poem

Piecing together a world

Of stooping hawks and child selves

Each word polished

Seeking gleaming truth

Beauty brought forth

From ugly memory

The climax nearing

And I forget to write a poem

And then there was….

The memory card

Filled with pictures

And I forget to write a poem

Nightmare Fairy and Chica

Leaves a frost painted

Blanket on chilling ground

Edit to bring out the

Magic in each one

A thousand words

To describe them

And I forget to write a poem

I begin again….

Blog comments like a leaf pile

And I forget to write a poem

Conversations long and deep

With friends a world away

New folks stop by and

Spread new joy

I engage

And I forget to write a poem

And then there are….

Son and daughter who love me

And I forget to write a poem

Hugs and chatting

The tadpole turned into a frog

Horses killed by a were- cat

“Can I help you with anything?

I feel helpful today”

Bigger now than yesterday

And I forget to write a poem

Now it is time to write….

Yes, time to write a poem

Of plotting and revising and

Editing and connecting

And marveling at

My babies grown big

Now is the time to write

And I find I’ve written a poem

You mean you don’t have a Nightmare Fairy at your house? It’s OK, I’ll share mine! =D

Who else remembered to OctPoWriMo today?

OctPoWriMo Day 22: Platitudes and Trust (and a Big Stretch)

Read or play along here! Click the icon! =D

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Two!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I intend to follow all the prompts, and get the joy of discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was especially challenging for me – to film myself reading one of my own poems.

Under the best of circumstances, I don’t enjoy having my picture taken, much less being recorded. It’s something I’ve striven to overcome, but it still sets the not-good-enough meter pinging up toward its top end…

But that’s the nature of a real challenge, right? To offer us an opportunity to stretch, to reach, to leave our comfort zone and peek out at the world around us…?

So, I asked my ten year old if she would like to do the honor of taping me – she’s got a passion for movie-making.

I thought this result is a little dark, but she says that it fits the mood of the piece, and I’m going to respect her artistic vision, as well as my own.

I’ll share the video at the end of the post; first, I want to get on with the new stuff…

There’s a list of prompts for those not wanting to share a recording, and, since I’d already planned to write a poem every day this month, I went ahead and selected a few of the words from the list to write a quick little bit of philosophy…

Platitudes and Truth

I can do anything I set my mind to…

Strong words, but not true, not really.

No matter how valiant my effort

Despite my desperate motivation

I can’t love my baby boy back to life

Or prevent my own eventual death.

When I think of…

The way we use words as platitudes

And pretend that they are truths

I think we cheat ourselves

Sell away our deeper power

For a moment of feeling encouraged.

I feel…

There are things we can’t prevent

Things we can’t make happen

Like love and life and death

The audacious spontaneous immutable

Facts that define all existence.

And now, on to today’s poetic comfort zone stretching…

And the transcript for this Day One poem:

Dream-chrysalis

I curl into

the comforting warmth

of my blankets

like a butterfly

in my cocoon.

Sleep is

my

chrysalis.

Dreams

my

transformation -

Images, tastes, textures,

memories, emotions

sights, sounds, scents -

Create the silken shelter

from which I emerge

changed and changing

and soar into

the new day.

Come read and watch other poets!