NaPM April 25th 2019

[Quixilated]

Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month. 

NaPM April 25, 2019

Topic: write a dramatic monologue in response to the work of one NaPM participant.  Specify in the title which participant.  You can respond to one or all of that participant’s NaPM poems.

Form: dramatic monologue

Line Requirement: any

[CRNDLSM]

Ellajam

 you graced us with one great read 
 For the month.  And you prepared it 
From the initial prompt.

I know everyone is so busy year with 
Not writing and yes napm can be 
A dull flop of word vomit but the people
Who need your writing have been 
Starving for months and then 
One day you give us something great
Thinking it's the beginning of an awesome month
And then you disappear again
And go back to reading everyone else's garbage.

And that's cool, it's okay. This poem woulda been
For Leanne but she hadn't contributed 
Yet.

[Richard]

Response to CRNDLSM's poem from April 23rd :

We didn't hook up by holding hands
She stole my cellphone when I
Wasn't looking and put her
Own number in so when she
Would call she'd keep the conver-
Sation going.  Again the
Next day, then the next day, and
Now we're married til we die.

The Morning After

Your shaky hello
the first callback I had
in years.
You forgot your cellphone
on my nightstand,
only to be answered by the same voice
you kissed goodbye
a few hours ago.

You thanked me for rescuing
your phone by asking me
to dinner again,
and what was supposed
to be just one night,
turned into more.

Years drained into a one-way
conversation, going on until
I stopped to notice you had stopped
long before me;
your phone stolen by your lover,
who never got an infection
from a caesarean,
who didn’t know your children’s names,
who’s voice nervously crawled
out from her throat
as I said hello.

Silence should have been our ringtone,
it could have saved us
so much more.

I hope I did this right... wasn't sure if it was cheating if the speaker was a character and not me.

[dukealien]

CRNDLSM: First Person


CRITIC (aside): Let’s talk about CRNDLSM, okay?  In NAPM this year, no one has been more faithful, or more consistent in both quality and character.

What do I mean?  Well, let’s just say I could probably pick the CRNDLSM contribution out of a lineup pretty reliably.  No fluttering over the gamut of forms and voices– something I do, trying to submerge my individuality, pretend to sagacity, and just goof around.  But this isn’t about me.

The CRNDLSM poem (in NAPM this year) is the one frankly written in the first person.  It seldom tries to hide behind a third person or expository voice: CRNDLSM doesn’t mask the speaker’s individuality, or that what the poem says is from CRNDLSM’s own point of view (or at least an assumed singular viewpoint).  And it will have a slightly melancholy, romantic twist, and it might be a pantoum.

Even, perhaps, this least typical (partial) exception that proves the rules:

The universe is not expanding.
Infinite: is
Everything inside steadily
Shrinking.
On a massive scale of relativity,
We only
Observe the growing distance
Together.

- (Untitled NAPM April 9th)

Notice how, at the end, there is not only the romantic twist, but a return from the general to the very particular and the admitted first person voice and point of view (in this instance, technically, first person plural).  And, if I’m interpreting it correctly, again that melancholy, here expressed as implied interpersonal distance (losing closeness, the heat death of love).

It’s good.  I wish I could do that well in that many words - very occasionally, I do pretty good in fewer, but not often (you should see my slush pile).

But this isn’t about me, it’s about CRNDLSM.  Solid, as another contributor is wont to say, which is praise I’m always happy to receive.  Solid, CRNDLSM!

[billy]

I have to praise not one but all,
you lot were really on
the proverbial... [to say ball would be cliche].
Contributions everywhere, I was rich beyond poverty, just.
I myself missed one or two, perhaps a third
not you guys, you ran like a well grouped herd
through text and verse.
Poetry here, poetry there. i was
seeing poetry on my fuckin' cornflake box.
What's this say; "write a monowhat?"
This could be inflammatory i thought
but countered myself "praise em all"
and i did, i am i loved you, collectively
yes you, the one smiling like they're a good poet who at last has recognition.
go on preen, you deserve it.
a genuine thanks to all xxx