NaPM April 16 2014

[milo]

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.

Topic 16: write a poem inspired by someone from your past.
Form : any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more

Questions?

[Mopkins]

Leprosy

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” Galatians 5:22-23a NKJV


First his fine kindnesses fell
off, selfishness set in,
longsuffering was next to go
when impatience began
to strip off his self-control,
then carnality took hold,
joy and goodness both dropped off
and evil took control.
Then both peace and gentleness
into exile did depart
as love dwindled to nothing
in his hard raging heart.
Faithfulness no more was there,:
he walked a sickening path-
and leprous was his spirit;
as leprous was his heart.

[ChristopherSea]

The Raving

There’s no restoring common sense;
your vengeful hound never grows tired.
I shall have no peace or silence,
ceaselessly sinking in your mire.
Your Rasputin resilience
reigns with Cleopatra desire.

There’s no quieting your offence,
no moment for contemplation,
no thought towards the consequence
of hatred’s looming fruition.
You embody Vlad’s vile conscience
with Alexander’s ambition.

I cannot explain your nonsense,
your passion for what most abhor,
the single source of your distress,
those aspects in you I deplore,
from Caligula’s perverseness
to the Medusa’s base rancor.

Melodrama stains your blouse sleeve;
embark on mending the heart sore.
My past love and future pest, you leave
Nostradamus dumbstruck and bored.
Hear my song with Poe’s resonance,
I’ll heed your raving nevermore.

[Erthona]

His signs were works of art,
he would paint a scene
on every letter he sent me.
He always smelled
of tobacco juice, and
would go out drinking on occasion.
My mother couldn’t understand
why her mother would marry
him, when she had
been married to her father,
a wonderful man—ole lemon-lips
the miser, the penny-pincher,
mister strict, the overly
devout Christian— well maybe
Granny just wanted to have some fun!

[ellajam]

Walter

He gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.
When life asked him to take a stand
he gave his spirit full command
but listened with his heart in hand,
and when death came to claim his soul
he gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.


(meh, first try at triolet)

[ChristopherSea]

Walter

He gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.
When life asked him to take a stand
he gave his spirit full command
but listened with his heart in hand,
and when death came to claim his soul
he gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.


(meh, first try at triolet)

Hey, this is fine. I just got excited by the form, as it looked easy. My attempt lies tangled and listless! Perhaps, tomorrow I can get the knots out.

[ellajam]

Walter

He gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.
When life asked him to take a stand
he gave his spirit full command
but listened with his heart in hand,
and when death came to claim his soul
he gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.


(meh, first try at triolet)

Hey, this is fine. I just got excited by the form, as it looked easy. My attempt lies tangled and listless! Perhaps, tomorrow I can get the knots out.

I don't think I got the refrains to turn as much as they should, but I'm behind, still missing a journey.

[justcloudy]

One mom, two moms

I heard her jeep before I saw
the dust coming up the gravel road
leading to my house.
She knew I’d be alone.
I wouldn’t let her in, so we sat
on the porch and she prayed over me
hands trembling and weak.
She talked to me about you
and whispered what I had to do.
I don’t know why I listened.

She’s still “the neighbor” after the move
and mom hosts her often, without you.
My chair feels harder when she’s there,
my throat too tight to swallow.
I let mom speak, and wave goodbye.

[milo]

Walter

He gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.
When life asked him to take a stand
he gave his spirit full command
but listened with his heart in hand,
and when death came to claim his soul
he gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.


(meh, first try at triolet)

I have always loved triolets and this one is pretty solid. You managed the turns well. Nice job.

[Keith]

Mr Barker,

chose to teach, it didn't choose him,
it spat at him, brushed and pushed,
showed him all its failed floors
and ugly scuffed shouting rough
corridors, it laughed manic in his face,
tried to trip him, open his case.

He trembled and couldn't control
the class or his body,
holding chalk was a chore.
Offered my advice for free,
keep away before you infect me.

I was outside college freezing
as the elephant shuffled onto the ice,
rattled by its bones ready to die
its legs shook with each mouse size step.
Shoulders heavy under the weight
of knowing it would only get worse.
I fell, offering an apologetic hand,
taking an arm as strong as a spasm.

Such a gentle face without complaint,
the tired effort beneath thin frailty,
grey wrinkles of desperation
in search of normality,
hiding in the chaos of the herd.

As the elephant drove away
I half raised a hand.

From then on when Mr Barker
chose to teach, I chose to listen.

[Brownlie]

Walter

He gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.
When life asked him to take a stand
he gave his spirit full command
but listened with his heart in hand,
and when death came to claim his soul
he gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.


(meh, first try at triolet)

My first inkling was that this poem sounded pretty good. So that's a good sign.

[ellajam]

Walter

He gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.
When life asked him to take a stand
he gave his spirit full command
but listened with his heart in hand,
and when death came to claim his soul
he gave his spirit full command,
directing it with deft control.


(meh, first try at triolet)

My first inkling was that this poem sounded pretty good. So that's a good sign.

Thanks Brownlie. Aside from the bad and in L6, to me it feels like for an idea with some weight it just floats away. Maybe I'll grow to like that, but I'm still meh, something seems off.

---

Mr Barker,

chose to teach, it didn't choose him,
it spat at him, brushed and pushed,
showed him all its failed floors
and ugly scuffed shouting rough
corridors, it laughed manic in his face,
tried to trip him, open his case.

He trembled and could't control
the class or his body,
holding chalk was a chore.
Offered my advice for free,
keep away before you infect me.

I was outside college frozen,
as the elephant shuffled onto the ice,
rattled by its bones ready to die
its legs shook with each mouse size step.
Shoulders heavy under the weight
of knowing it would only get worse.
I fell, offering an apologetic hand,
taking an arm as strong as a spasm.

For the first time I saw it,
the tired effort beneath such frailty,
grey wrinkles of desperation
in search of normality,
hiding in the chaos of the herd.

As the elephant drove away
I half raised a hand.

From then on when Mr Barker,
chose to teach, I chose to listen.

Keith, you are amassing a great collection of poems with a distinct character. It will be fun to read them as a group when we're done. Well done.

[Brownlie]

He bottled beer but never touched
A drop of ballentine
But this was told in hearsay tales
Of touching outlined signs

How could I know the fractured whole?
When what I saw was lined
Up squares dimmed green in black and white
As loosened shapes entwined

He burned up images seeping through
Their frames by word of mouth
Where slowly they decayed in air
Till time would spin them out

I never knew his youth but saw him
When rage betook his frame
And language which sustains him now
Became a force estranged

Across networks of cordless lines
He lost a source for words
And formed bedridden cries from gropes
That lashed above a cope

I wonder when the world will shake
The remnants away
If earthen ways forget like men
whose drowning minds decay

But something still remains of ages
That partly bred and stripped
Away components born in flesh
that echoes from his crypt

His diluted bootcamp trickles through
Our line of men who feel
A shrouded shame confining them
To think of death and yield.

[cidermaid]

Eighty years to my eight,
they lived out of sync with the date.
Another world that existed; pre-sixties plastic and sex.
Nanny had been retained as house keeper,
Ma played with ponies and Pa still dabbled in the city.

It was like living in a period drama show.
Except, that everything had more weight;
Shabby, draughty, dusty and cold, but
the layered blankets and feather filled
comforter was cosier than polyester and foam.

For four formative years, I lived in,
Sir (Dam and blast it FJ) always introduced me as “AJ”.
With Mrs S, her “Girl that does”
To Nanny I was simply Alice.
I learned how to garden on a grand scale,
herd horses, make ice cream and bake cakes.

I’m not quite sure when the exchange was made.
My parents felt I had gone too far when I could
cook, present and partake with evident ease,
eight courses of fine dining. At some unrecalled point,
I left a Formica table and sat down at a round, ancient oak
table for eight and never made the return journey.



A bit of a cheat to day as three peeopl and a place.

[fim]

Honoring Ernie
fim 4/17/14

He sensed the turbulence
behind the façade,
the fear beneath the mask.

He offered a treasure
he knew would entice,
deliberately - he did not ask.

He simply stated,
"I'll make you a champion."
His lure teased the part of me,

that possessed the awareness that
exceptionally ordinary
would in-time describe my destiny.

Then he molded rage
and fashioned fear’s fire
to release in staccato bursts

furious fists
designed to damage with deft,
dispensing intolerable hurt.

The promise realized,
five-minutes of fame,
a memory faded by many years

but Ernie's blessing,
my immersion in savagery,
has inured me to most of life's fears