NaPM April 28 2013

[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 27: Two choices today:  1 - you can write a poem from the point of view of someone sick or dying or 2 - it is my birthday today.  In years past, on my birthday, all the poets I knew would write a poem to commemorate (YAY!).  You can choose this example if you choose though I am aware I have not been here long enough for anyone to really know me that well, I have included an example I received from my old friend (and poet) Dale Housman.

Form : any
Line requirements: 10 lines or more.

Questions?

[Todd]

After the Diagnosis

The doctor speaks, and I imagine
they take us to different warehouses
to calibrate statistics.
In mine, there are 44,000 beds
colored appropriately for outcome.
The white ones clustered near
the exit for efficiency.
From above, it must look like a sliver
of new moon against an expanding
black universe. There are of course
other warehouses, other phases
of the moon--though never full
in this pockmarked emptiness.

[NakedBear]

In just how many pink horizons
have you bathed the moon, Milo?
Surely it’s a few.

I’ll measure all your meters,
in hope to know your age:

You’re twenty-five, like Keats?
Or twenty-nine, like Shelly?

Or maybe that won’t work,
since I do not now write as well
as him, though I will soon be thirty (god willing).

So just how old are you?
And will you have three hundred plus more days
in which to wash the moon?

How old will you be then?

Oh well, keep mum; and have a good one, too!

[cidermaid]

Is there a thumbs down smilie ? I want to give this effort one
But a good promt Milo..well for me anyway, as it took me right out of my comfort zone to write about something i wouldn't normally touch.

When all is quiet, I look at what has been said and done.
Each item eroded and eaten away, ticked off one by one,
‘till all that is left is a crumpled heap in an ash tray,
waiting to be taken away and I suppose, burnt one day.

Each day is more precious than the last, yet more tedious
and painful. The children come in after school, studious
looks of dubious joy; their uncertain smiles cause my heart
to scream. Iin the now, I focus on homework to play my part.

The news the other day, was full of faux pathos for a woman,
who had died just hours after a shock diagnosis. Salmon
pink lips and cinnamon hair, she looked delicious. I don’t care
for this lingering tender kiss, whilst I rot and loose my hair.

No doubt the morning chat shows will pick up it up and run,
I could make their day - call in…but its all’s been said and done
before and then before, the aftermath of then. I’ve planned my then,
each last julienned word, a phone list of friends. My list without end.

There it is, crumpled in the out tray. I’ve got all day for a re-write.
My life's already been written. Got pictures to prove it. Me all bright
and smiley, a babe, a child…a wifey! Look at the hair! Four hours to go,
I will write another list, whilst I wait for the kids. Despair. Then call a show.

[billy]

sorry AJ no thumbs down smiley, we demand you think positive thought

---

milo thinks he's thirty two
he's really sixty eight.
The doctors say his memory's lapsed
he isn't smart per say.
I saw him wear a dress last night
and wondered; does he care?
I never knew he swung that way.
I never thought he'd dare.
The girlfriend that he lugs around
his liver-spotted arm,
is older than the trojan horse,
but has a lot less charm.
They never let him go outside
to walk the streets at night
because when he returns back home
his shorts are full of shite.

---

happy birthday milo :d

[milo]

sorry AJ no thumbs down smiley, we demand you think positive thought

---

milo thinks he's thirty two
he's really sixty eight.
The doctors say his memory's lapsed
he isn't smart per say.
I saw him wear a dress last night
and wondered; does he care?
I never knew he swung that way.
I never thought he'd dare.
The girlfriend that he lugs around
his liver-spotted arm,
is older than the trojan horse,
but has a lot less charm.
They never let him go outside
to walk the streets at night
because when he returns back home
his shorts are full of shite.

---

happy birthday milo :d

this is good stuff, billy

[cidermaid]

How dull am I...I completly miss-read the daily prompt as "write a poem as if it is your B'day"
Anyway..here's my belated happy birthday wishes for you Milo. Hope it was a good one.

All the best AJ.

[milo]

In just how many pink horizons
have you bathed the moon, Milo?
Surely it’s a few.

I’ll measure all your meters,
in hope to know your age:

You’re twenty-five, like Keats?
Or twenty-nine, like Shelly?

Or maybe that won’t work,
since I do not now write as well
as him, though I will soon be thirty (god willing).

So just how old are you?
And will you have three hundred plus more days
in which to wash the moon?

How old will you be then?

Oh well, keep mum; and have a good one, too!

anyone who even subtly compares me to Keats or Shelley gets on my favorite persons list.

---

When I was young I'd pull breath
deep within my chest
and hold it there until I felt
the pressure of waves
between my ears force my chest to burst
it back in one dizzy gasp
then grab another and another
until spots collapsed my sight.
As I am older now I've noticed
how the sun has gone spare
with its warmth and light -
slowly, as if to fool an old man
that the sun wouldn't cheat
and grow wan for a friend -
still there's plenty to halo the
sidewalk's new tenants,
to surround the young with
both burnish and bright.

It will grow worse as I'm exiled
to the flickering company
of unfaithful fluorescents -
peevishly sharing their glint
with only stainless gurneys or
countertops. Too sullen to cast
warmth on an unwilling master.

A day will come when I will grasp
futile, for just one more gasp -
and it will be as it was then, when
the air escaped my lungs like a captive -
just out of reach of its helpless tormentor.

---

How dull am I...I completly miss-read the daily prompt as "write a poem as if it is your B'day"
Anyway..here's my belated happy birthday wishes for you Milo. Hope it was a good one.

All the best AJ.

thank you, reading poetry is a great gift.

[brandontoh]

Deadline
Suddenly,
there’s not enough time
but more than enough money.

My bed’s no longer seductive,
and the living room attracts
everyone who matters.

Eyes closed, it’s still warm,
and that’s good.
The world embraces me
hugging tighter and tighter.

Before I fall asleep in your bosom,
let me fill this vessel to the brim.
Please.

[Bunx]

LATE AGAIN!
DAMNIT!
Late to English Class AGAIN!
good thing I have a excuse...

PICTURES AGAIN.
the newspaper can write itself,
rob.
you slob, we want those poems.

RC Cola, was
your pen name?
God Bunx use that brain.

C- my finals AP
score.

one be my first score.
won't be my last.

wooosh

-BunX