Day 23 – Born to be heroes

NaPoWriMo prompt: And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem about, or involving, a superhero, taking your inspiration from these four poems in which Lucille Clifton addresses Clark Kent/Superman.

Born to be heroes

We are born to be heroes

All precious pearls

As kids we all know

we CAN change the world

My first son was superman

He had the whole suit

and a heart for adventure

for rescue and pursuit.

The second was Buzz Lightyear

with the flashing and the style

He had greatness in his purpose

the cunning and the smile.

They were powerful and mighty

invincible and strong

with these it wasn’t likely

that anything could go wrong!

My boys are both grown up now

and they’ve outgrown their suits

but they still are my heroes

in much bigger boots.

And now I have grandchildren

who have followed the same course

he’s a Spidey or a Ninja

and she’s a princess with force.

They too are my heroes

adding joy and delight

They’ll always be super

for the rest of their lives.

But we are all heroes

superbly designed

masterpieces of grace

to bless all of mankind;

Princes and princesses

each destined with a place

of greatness and power

with His magnificent grace.

We are born to be heroes

All precious pearls

As people we should know

we CAN change the world.

Day 22 – Scrap!

NaPoWriMo prompt: The idea is to write a poem in which two things have a fight. Two very unlikely things, if you can manage it. Or perhaps your two things could be linked somehow – like a rock and a hard place – and be utterly sick of being so joined.

Battle of heart and mind

Scrap! Scrap!

Snide bickering feelings

concealing resentment;

a critical poke

rubbing in the lies

heart doubts –

did you really say that?

Scrap! Scrap!

Heart and mind friction

subtly –

Why can’t you be kind?

It’s all-out war!

Mind, I know it’s true,

I think…

Think, think…

What if?

Let the head choose

Forgive

Love

It’s the right thing to do.

Scrap! Scrap!

You’re not to be trusted

Nowhere is safe –

Poison is choking –

Don’t be vulnerable!

Heart, hide again.

Scrap! Scrap!

Knock down the walls,

He keeps His word.

Come out!

Soften up

and give Him your heart

You can trust Him.

Shalom.

Day 21 – GOLD

NaPoWriMo prompt: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that repeats or focuses on a single colour.

a kintsugi restoration

Day 21 – Golden

Crowns, coin and candlesticks

bangles, bells and bling;

crowns and rings,

fit for Kings

festooned with golden things.

But all that glitters is not gold

is what we’re told

so come behold

a blessing not withheld

from sons and daughters of the King.

A field of corn before the harvest

invested love and sun-kissed skin

reaping sheaves

of autumn glory

holding honeyed hues within.

Old and gold the years enriched

the cracks kintsugi painted

the golden lines

embossed so fine

they never shall be tainted.

So late into our golden years

from amber dawn to gilded glow

purified in winter’s flames

the blazing sun shall curtsy low

in silent applause.

a golden field of corn in sunset.

Day 20 – Whose story?

NaPoWriMo prompt: to write a poem that recounts a historical event. In writing your poem, you could draw on your memory, encyclopedias, history books, or primary documents.

Day 20 – Whose story?

Information’s rather scarce

the deeper we delve back

carbon dating gives some clues

but details we lack.

Moving to the written word

and records of some facts

helps us to begin to picture

how peoples thought and act.

So browsing through these archives

of history as we know it

how would I pick an era

to regale a budding poet?

So may stories written down

some were in the news –

Romans, Saxons, Tudor times

how am I gonna choose?

But I was born in sixty-five

and in history books I read

I see photos from my life

so I have to concede –

that I’M a piece of history

and as a primary source

not of his-story, but my story

I’m an expert, of course!

Pre-demolition photos of our back yard in the 60s. Herbert Street in St Ann’s

Day 19 – A lonely haunt

NaPoWriMo prompt: What are you haunted by, or what haunts you? Write a poem responding to this question. Then change the word haunt to hunt.

I’m not haunted by anything, except possibly the possibility of regret. I would hate to find myself regretting something I’d done or not done and now can never put right.

Maybe this is why Christ’s forgiveness, and mandate of such, is so all-important, central to me?

FMF prompt word: LONELY.

I won’t do another FMF, but will write a Haiku to link haunt and lonely.

Haiku 1

I think the only

thing that could ever haunt me –

if you were lonely.

Haiku 2

Many are my fears

but the one that would haunt me –

my lack of courage.

Haiku 3 – inspired by Martin Niemöller’s famous and important words

I will speak speak for you

when you face persecution.

Will you speak for me?

Haiku 4

To not hear the words

‘Well done good, faithful servant’ –

on reaching heaven.

Haiku 5

Haunted or hunted,

they would never come for me.

I’ve nothing they want!

Haiku 6

To sum this all up

about what would haunt me most –

t’is to have regret.

image of huddled boy, lonely and afraid

NB: To see other responses to the FMF prompt, LONELY, see below

Read Prasanta’s post and join the link-up here​

Day 18 – Anyone other than me

Day 18

NaPoWriMo prompt: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem in which the speaker expresses the desire to be someone or something else, and explains why. Two possible models for you: Natasha Rao’s “In my next life let me be a tomato,” and Randall Jarrell’s “The Woman at the Washington Zoo.”

Day 18 – Anyone other than me

Once upon a fairy-time

there was me with an innocence dream;

And if you asked me then what I’d like

I’d choose to be a hero or a queen.

Later in my fractured teens

being loved was all that mattered;

hunting for my perfect groom

till the dreams were all in tatters.

If you had asked me at that time,

who I would like to be,

I’d say I’ll be whoever

you desire me to be!

I wanted you to rescue me

and let me rescue you;

To heal us of our broken hearts

and pull each other through.

But I grew out of fairy-tales

and grew to love myself;

I realised that God made me

– slugs and snails and puppy dogs tails –

and loves me as I am.

So if you ask me now again

of what I’d like to be;

I’d say there’s lots of things I’d like

to add to being me.

I’d like to be that writer

who’d know how to do the stuff

of imagining me as someone else

(or even a tomato)

and creating a marvellous fantasy

(or even a sonata).

I’d like to do the best I can

to love more, play more,

listen and to pray more.

To be my bestest me more.

But now I have my family

Who would I rather be,

except Nana D and mother,

or anybody other

than ME?

Day 17: The Power of Love, or Barcarolle

Day 17

NaPoWriMo: Optional prompt for the day. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that is inspired by a piece of music, and that shares its title with that piece of music.

This poem went a bit to the winds.

I began thinking of the song ‘The Power of Love’, a Song by Frankie Goes To Hollywood.

Then I thought of the song, and the film, ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’ – the song originally by Percy Sledge and the film (1994) Directed by Luis Mandoki and starring Andy Garcia and Meg Ryan, as a recovering alcoholic.

That film is meaningful to me, but then I thought of one of my all-time favourite films – ‘Life is Beautiful’ and began to rock to the romantic melody of Barcarolle (by Jacques Offenbach) . ‘Life is Beautiful’ is a 1997 Italian comedy-drama film directed by and starring Roberto Benigni.

So here goes.

The Power of Love, or Barcarolle

‘The Power of Love

a force from above‘

aren’t all songs written

about love?

Doesn’t all love hail

from above?

There’s a song with a power

and a pathos and story –

‘When a Man loves a Woman‘

is a song that I knew

and a film that I saw;

and love won.

So many songs about romantic love,

familial love,

sacrificial, powerful love.

The songs are stories.

The stories are true.

Love is true.

The most powerful love in a story I know,

in a song and a film,

of a man and woman and son,

is the story of Guido.

Guido is true;

His story is true.

Guido knew that Life is Beautiful,

so he was beautiful

and he saw that she was beautiful.

They saw the opera one night –

Imagine the gondoliers

movements strong and movements weak

like human hearts.

Her heart was moved

her soul transfixed

and spellbound by Barcarolle.

And he loved her and wooed her

His love was true.

Their life was built on love

and they bore a beautiful son.

Life was changing,

It is always changing,

but the music didn’t.

War persuaded people to fight the enemy

though they didn’t know who they were.

In a concentration camp,

Guido’s love,

for his son and his lady, and life,

empowered his all –

the best of humanity to take a selfless risk;

Then, out of the relentless despair

Love sways through the night,

sweeps into the lifeless bricks

where she waits

and breathes it’s stringed melody of love,

expanding the air with hope,

strengthening courage;

perseverance rekindled.

Imagine the gondoliers

movements strong and movements weak

like human hearts –

Her heart was moved

her soul transfixed

Love is empowered

Love communicated in the pit.

To live, or not to die,

to forego the jam sandwiches,

persevere in love

and win the competition;

Yes,

Love won a tank!

Love always wins.

Love never fails.

an image of Guido, wife and son from the film

Day 16 NaPoWriMo – Just a glimpse

Day 16

Today, we challenge you to write a poem in which you closely describe an object or place, and then end with a much more abstract line that doesn’t seemingly have anything to do with that object or place, but which, of course, really does. The “surprise” ending to this James Wright poem is a good illustration of the effect we’re hoping you’ll achieve. An abstract, philosophical kind of statement closing out a poem that is otherwise intensely focused on physical, sensory details

‘Welcome!’ smile the greetings

in joyful amber glowing;

behind, a broad escalier glides away

into balustrades parading

smoothly carved limbs

of warm marble.

Just as all colours become white,

so, brilliantly iridescent bright

breathed a universe of beauty and music

into simplicity of being.

Graciously invited to glimpse into my own space

created generously to accommodate

and celebrate

all that is me.

I gaze at the lavishness

of a dream I never dared

yet long to explore.

It was home;

and one day

I’ll come to stay

for-ever-more.

Day 15: Moominstamps

Day 15

#NaPoWriMo And now for our prompt – optional, as always! Today, we’d like to encourage you to take a look at @StampsBot, and become inspired by the wide, wonderful, and sometimes wacky world of postage stamps.

Moomintroll is off abroad

stepping stones with mind absorbed;

He has his heart set on a goal

to go to places unexplored.

Brave adventure is his quest

this was his Snorkmaiden’s request;

and go they will, but they’ll come back

to Moominvalley, where they’re blessed.

And when they’ve gone, he’ll stamp and send,

to all their Finnish Moomin friends,

a note to say he loves them all

and stepping stones, he recommends.

Day 13 & 14 combined – Forget-me-not

Day 13 & 14 combined – Forget-me-not

(Day 13 NaPoWriMo) was

‘to play with rhyme. Start by creating a “word bank” of ten simple words. They should only have one or two syllables apiece. Five should correspond to each of the five senses… Use your expanded word-bank, with rhymes, as the seeds for your poem. Your effort doesn’t actually have to rhyme in the sense of having each line end with a rhymed word, but try to use as much soundplay in your poem as possible..’

I had a house full of visitors this weekend, so I had no opportunity to do all of Day 13’s challenge. However, I did think of 5 ‘sense’ words and 3 of my young guests, helped generate a selection of rhymes.

I decided to use the rhymes we generated yesterday, in combination with today’s challenge (Day 14), which is to

‘write a poem of at least ten lines in which each line begins with the same word (e.g., “Because,” “Forget,” “Not,” “If”). This technique of beginning multiple lines with the same word or phrase is called anaphora, and has long been used to give poems a driving rhythm and/or a sense of puzzlebox mystery.’

April 13^th is my late mother’s birthday, and, inspired by a garden full of forget-me-nots, which were her favourite bloom, (until dementia robbed her of that too), I composed this.

Forget me not

Forget-me-not when you replay the sight

of what might have been our plight

that bright night

when in our minds’ eye was only the light

of what looked like danger,

but seemingly

was alright.

Forget-me-not when you talk and shout

about all our doubts

in whispered confessions of trust

and how we announced from roof-tops aloud

that the faith we espoused

in the cacophony, at times, was reduced

to nought.

And forget-me-not when taste-buds are tingled

by shots of sweet and even your feet

savour the delicate flavours

of when we chanced to meet and eat

by the white sands, quite replete,

until all our joy

was complete.

And forget-me-not when the fragrance evokes

the smoke from our one last toke

and how all our senses were awoken

and in bliss we would joke

and soak in the delicious evening

until the mesmerising spell

was broken.

As all your senses, cells and members

remember

triggering the memories

of times and places,

sights and sounds

scents and flavours;

promise me-

That you’ll forget-me-not

when it’s all too tough

and you’ve had enough of missing the hugs,

of missing the laughs and the sharing of us.

When you want to snuff out the grief

and move on and forget

all that stuff.

Please move on

but forget-me-not.

A photograph of forget-me-nots in my garden today. Happy birthday, Mammy.