Wow, the month went by so fast. Hard to believe it is the last day of April already! :)
Day Thirty Poetry:
Driving
Speeding through places unknown
scenery as distant as to you
as the other side of the Earth
hair flying from the open window
music blasting as you sing along
letting the journey pass you by
until you reach your destination
a college visit to a friend
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
April 28,2010 & April 29,2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Eight Poetry:
Sorry, I wasn't able to get to my computer yesterday to post my poem, so here it is:
Smile
That smile, so secretive
just before the curtain opens
the performance has begun
as you dance across the stage
with the colorful silk in hand
flourishing, tossing, catching
letting the audience in
to the meaning of your smile
Day Twenty Nine Poetry:
Listen
Open your ears
and listen carefully
what can you hear?
the static
from an empty CD
or the bristling
of the wind
over the blasting
of the television
do you listen?
Sorry, I wasn't able to get to my computer yesterday to post my poem, so here it is:
Smile
That smile, so secretive
just before the curtain opens
the performance has begun
as you dance across the stage
with the colorful silk in hand
flourishing, tossing, catching
letting the audience in
to the meaning of your smile
Day Twenty Nine Poetry:
Listen
Open your ears
and listen carefully
what can you hear?
the static
from an empty CD
or the bristling
of the wind
over the blasting
of the television
do you listen?
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
April 27,2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Seven Poetry:
The Song
the lights dim
the microphone
clutched firmly
in your hands
as the first note
leaves your lips
the audience
disappears
for and instance
you are by yourself
owning the stage
until the clashing
of many hands
brings reality
crashing down
The Song
the lights dim
the microphone
clutched firmly
in your hands
as the first note
leaves your lips
the audience
disappears
for and instance
you are by yourself
owning the stage
until the clashing
of many hands
brings reality
crashing down
Monday, April 26, 2010
April 26, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Six Poetry:
The Camera
Through your lens,the world fades to gray
focuses on the tiniest of details
the loose thread hanging from your jacket
the small chip of your tooth
from when you first fell off your bike
or expands to show the bigger picture
a family, brought together by sadness
the emptiness of a newly planted garden
but in either case, you make time
stand still if only for a moment
so that no one else will ever be able
to forget
The Camera
Through your lens,the world fades to gray
focuses on the tiniest of details
the loose thread hanging from your jacket
the small chip of your tooth
from when you first fell off your bike
or expands to show the bigger picture
a family, brought together by sadness
the emptiness of a newly planted garden
but in either case, you make time
stand still if only for a moment
so that no one else will ever be able
to forget
Sunday, April 25, 2010
April 25, 2010 - 5 more days of NaPoWriMo!!
Day Twenty Five Poetry:
Ode to a Broom (Revised!)
Your sturdy handle,
like the graceful arc
of a ballerina's back
as she dances with purpose
to the sensual tune
coursing through the studio.
Each movement
an extension of another
spinning, twirling,
creating circles on the floor,
a perfectly executed arabesque
followed by a grand jete.
Your tousled hair sweeps
delicately across the stage,
one coupe follows another
brushing everything else
out of its path
to dance alone once more.
You crave cleanliness,
the glistening hard wood
of a newly washed studio
so you may pirouette to a finish,
claim the spotlight one last time
before you retire with one final curtsy.
Ode to a Broom (Revised!)
Your sturdy handle,
like the graceful arc
of a ballerina's back
as she dances with purpose
to the sensual tune
coursing through the studio.
Each movement
an extension of another
spinning, twirling,
creating circles on the floor,
a perfectly executed arabesque
followed by a grand jete.
Your tousled hair sweeps
delicately across the stage,
one coupe follows another
brushing everything else
out of its path
to dance alone once more.
You crave cleanliness,
the glistening hard wood
of a newly washed studio
so you may pirouette to a finish,
claim the spotlight one last time
before you retire with one final curtsy.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
April 24, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Four Poetry:
So, I decided to use a prompt for my poem today. Here is what it was based on: 8. Write to something (or someone) beautiful that is no longer here.
Your Absence
When I was younger,you were always there
bursting out of the ground with color
every time spring would come around
I would watch as you slowly grew
from the pale green leaves to stem
until I came home from school one day
and there you were in all of your beauty
with all of your friends gathered around
as a child I would play in your home
and as I grew, helped mom plant
more friends for you to play with
underground in the cold fall weather
yet, no longer do I see your crimson petals
or the sunny yellow of your comrades
for you all have been taken away from me
by beast that will be stopped by nothing
not by a fence or even by a spray
they bite off all of your heads
spitting them out to lay
a fallen monument on the grassy ground
or dig up your bulbs in colder months
so that you are no longer here
the days go by now without your presence
during your favorite time of year
and I miss you.
So, I decided to use a prompt for my poem today. Here is what it was based on: 8. Write to something (or someone) beautiful that is no longer here.
Your Absence
When I was younger,you were always there
bursting out of the ground with color
every time spring would come around
I would watch as you slowly grew
from the pale green leaves to stem
until I came home from school one day
and there you were in all of your beauty
with all of your friends gathered around
as a child I would play in your home
and as I grew, helped mom plant
more friends for you to play with
underground in the cold fall weather
yet, no longer do I see your crimson petals
or the sunny yellow of your comrades
for you all have been taken away from me
by beast that will be stopped by nothing
not by a fence or even by a spray
they bite off all of your heads
spitting them out to lay
a fallen monument on the grassy ground
or dig up your bulbs in colder months
so that you are no longer here
the days go by now without your presence
during your favorite time of year
and I miss you.
Friday, April 23, 2010
April 23, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Three Poetry:
The Lesson
they sit in silence
their desks in a row
waiting for direction
for their knowledge to grow
from English to history
wow, this class is such a mystery
the lesson is poetry
and how poets use rhyme
though rhyming is really hard to do
and they wish they could, don't you?
yet really every child
is just biding their time
waiting for the bell to ring
and be released into the hall
The Lesson
they sit in silence
their desks in a row
waiting for direction
for their knowledge to grow
from English to history
wow, this class is such a mystery
the lesson is poetry
and how poets use rhyme
though rhyming is really hard to do
and they wish they could, don't you?
yet really every child
is just biding their time
waiting for the bell to ring
and be released into the hall
Thursday, April 22, 2010
April 22, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty-two Poetry:
End of Semester Stress
Close your eyes
and calm yourself
listen to the
swaying of the leaves
the fall of rain
let the stress
of homework,
papers and exams
slip away
like ink drying
on a newly complete
assignment
Thats it,
Breathe deeply
and relax
summer is almost
here!
End of Semester Stress
Close your eyes
and calm yourself
listen to the
swaying of the leaves
the fall of rain
let the stress
of homework,
papers and exams
slip away
like ink drying
on a newly complete
assignment
Thats it,
Breathe deeply
and relax
summer is almost
here!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
April 21, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty One Poetry:
Music
the music warms me
like a hot cup of cocoa
on a cold winter day
when the snow is falling
outside my window
like a blanket
protecting me
from the frigid air
in you I escape
during the darkest of days
and you soothe me
with your beautiful melodies
Music
the music warms me
like a hot cup of cocoa
on a cold winter day
when the snow is falling
outside my window
like a blanket
protecting me
from the frigid air
in you I escape
during the darkest of days
and you soothe me
with your beautiful melodies
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
April 20,2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twenty Poetry:
Under the Bathroom Door
The crash of the wind against the window
shatters through the subconscious
bringing dreams to an end
with the whirling of the blow dryer
the banging force of cabinets closing
the dripping of the shower running
bombastic voices drifting under doors
unimaginable stenches to nostrils
and you are awake
hours too early
Under the Bathroom Door
The crash of the wind against the window
shatters through the subconscious
bringing dreams to an end
with the whirling of the blow dryer
the banging force of cabinets closing
the dripping of the shower running
bombastic voices drifting under doors
unimaginable stenches to nostrils
and you are awake
hours too early
Monday, April 19, 2010
April 19, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Nineteen Poetry (More than half way there!!):
In search of my Muse
My muse,
lost in the chaos of April
constantly searching
looking everywhere
through the neverending
depths of cyberspace
within the inner workings
of google's master mind
to find the perfect prompt
a subject unexplored
for her writer to employ
and write about today
In search of my Muse
My muse,
lost in the chaos of April
constantly searching
looking everywhere
through the neverending
depths of cyberspace
within the inner workings
of google's master mind
to find the perfect prompt
a subject unexplored
for her writer to employ
and write about today
Sunday, April 18, 2010
April 18, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Eighteen Poetry:
Remembering
I've been there
too many times to count
I've eaten more meals
from au bon pain
than I care to remember
had the antiseptic smell
seep into my brain
and unsettle my stomach
more than enough times
spent countless visits
in the intensive care,
or the emergency room
and seen entirely too much
of jefferson five
yet, what I wouldn't give
to be there one more time
with you
Remembering
I've been there
too many times to count
I've eaten more meals
from au bon pain
than I care to remember
had the antiseptic smell
seep into my brain
and unsettle my stomach
more than enough times
spent countless visits
in the intensive care,
or the emergency room
and seen entirely too much
of jefferson five
yet, what I wouldn't give
to be there one more time
with you
Workshop Group C: Story #2
Story #2
Her slender fingers flicked the light switch on, flooding the familiar purple walls and mahogany furniture into focus. Tossing the worn duffle bag from over her shoulder haphazardly onto the ground by the open doorway, she let her feet carry her to the twin sized bed lined up against the opposite wall. Collapsing onto the lilac comforter of the bed, she let out a sigh of relief at the soft, comforting feel of her own mattress against her back as her eyes drifted shut.
“Settling back in okay, Mal?” a melodic voice questioned from the door in a slightly teasing tone.
Mallorie opened her eyes slowly, taking in her baby sister's petite form leaning against her doorframe. “It's good to be home. I missed my bed.” she teased, sitting up slowly.
“Ha ha ha. By the way, Mom says that you need to clean up your room now that you're home.” Moira informed her with a laugh before turning around with a swish of her dark brown hair as she left the room.
“MO!! Are you kidding me?” Mallorie screamed after her younger sister, “I just got home!”
“Nope. And maybe you should start with that wretched butterfly. Welcome home Mal.” Moira's laughing voice trailed behind her.
“So much for winter break.” Mallorie thought wryly, turning her head to the aforementioned butterfly. The navy blue and teal paint a contrast to the lilac walls. Reaching her hand out to the wall beside her bead, she slowly traced her pointer finger against the lopsided outline of the butterfly's wings.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Are you sure that you want butterflies painted all over the walls?” Kate questioned skeptically, surveying the newly painted lilac walls with disdain.
“Definitely.” Mallorie replied, her bare feet crossing the tarp covered floor to pick up a paintbrush from the pile beside the open paint cans. “Now get back to work.” she joked tossing another paintbrush at her friend.
“Hey, watch it!” Kate cried, jumping back in fright as the paintbrush landed a few feet in front of her.
“Butterflies.” Mallorie reminded her, tucking a second paintbrush behind her ear and skipping back to her side with a smile.
“Ugh, fine. What color do you want the butterfly?” she asked as she picked up the paintbrush and moved to the wall opposite the door.
“Well ...” Mallorie started, shifting her feet back and forth.
“No way. I refuse to paint it pink. Please, I am begging you. Anything else.” Kate interrupted her friend.
“Who said I was going to say pink?” she retorted, turning away from the outlining brush strokes she had just completed to stare at her friend.
“I know you.” Kate laughed, untying her golden blonde hair from its drooping bun and redoing it with a few practiced moves.
“Whatever.” she responded, turning back to her wall. Holding her arm steady, she made a few long strokes to color in the butterfly wings a dark magenta. Ignoring the music suddenly filling the room with a sigh, she placed the pink stained brush behind her left ear and pulled the other to paint the body. The two girls immersed in their respective drawings, working on opposite walls with only the sound of 'Hey Jude' in the background.
“Finished!” Kate cried happily, stepping back and admiring her handiwork with an accomplished smile.
With a final brush of light pink to complete her own perfectly symmetrical butterfly, Mallorie turned her head towards her best friend. “What is that?” Mallorie questioned, her eyes locked on the blob of navy blue and teal that only slightly resembled a butterfly if she squinted her eyes and tilted her head just so.
“My butterfly.” Kate replied, chuckling quietly at the puzzled look on her friends face.
“That does not look anything like a butterfly?”
“What? I never said that I could draw a perfect butterfly Ms. Symmetry.”
“Why did you not say anything about it then?” Mallorie asked, moving so that she was now standing next to Kate.
“Well you know that I am no artist. You should have painted your room dark blue with stars like mine instead. I am the queen of drawing stars. It's my specialty.” Kate retorted, a bit defensively.
“Sorry Kate, the butterfly is fine.”
“You can always paint over it, Mal. I don't mind. I think I will stick to painting flowers on your walls instead.” Kate replied, swinging her arm around Mallorie's shoulder as the two of them stared at the butterfly on the wall in front of them.
The two girls heads turned simultaneously in response to the knock at the door. “Hey Mom.” Mallorie greeted.
“Hi Mrs. Kassidy.” Kate greeted cheerfully.
“Hi girls. The room is looking good.” Mrs. Kassidy responded. “Are you both ready for a little break?”
“Definitely.” Kate replied, putting her paintbrush back into the blue paint can.
“Alright. Come on in to the kitchen then. It's time for lunch.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Mallorie Elise, last time I checked daydreaming does not constitute as cleaning your bedroom.” Her mother joked from the doorjam.
“I just got home though. Can't I have a few days to relax before I start the whole cleaning thing?” Mallorie questioned, her voice borderline whining.
“Nice try. One day will turn into two, which will turn into a month and then break will be over and your room will still be a complete mess.”
“Fine.” she sulked.
“Fantastic. You can start with cleaning under your bed before dinnertime.” Mrs. Kassidy informed her. “The MacAllister's are coming over for dinner in half an hour.”
“Thanks Mom. I guess I need to start now if there is any chance of it getting done before break is over.”
“That a girl. Oh and Mallorie, it's nice to have you home.” her mother told her, heading down the hallway towards the kitchen.
“No time like the present.” Mallorie thought wryly. Falling to her knees beside the bed, she slowly peeked under the duvet. Piles of shoes and boxes filled nearly to the brim with sweaters greeted her. But it was a flash of dark blue and purple, hidden behind the shoes that caught her attention. Pushing her curly brown hair out of her grey eyes with one hand in a practiced gesture before moving a few items out of her way and pulling the small box out from under her bed.
Dust covered the top and the edges were tattered, held together with more metallic purple and navy blue duct tape than was necessary. She stared at it unblinkingly, wiping the dust off the cover and tracing her fingers over the childhood scribble there. Three words. Kate and Mallorie. Mallorie hesitated, glancing at her cell phone where it lay forgotten on the lilac bedspread as if Kate would pop out of it and reprimand her for even considering opening the box without her.
Her slender fingers flicked the light switch on, flooding the familiar purple walls and mahogany furniture into focus. Tossing the worn duffle bag from over her shoulder haphazardly onto the ground by the open doorway, she let her feet carry her to the twin sized bed lined up against the opposite wall. Collapsing onto the lilac comforter of the bed, she let out a sigh of relief at the soft, comforting feel of her own mattress against her back as her eyes drifted shut.
“Settling back in okay, Mal?” a melodic voice questioned from the door in a slightly teasing tone.
Mallorie opened her eyes slowly, taking in her baby sister's petite form leaning against her doorframe. “It's good to be home. I missed my bed.” she teased, sitting up slowly.
“Ha ha ha. By the way, Mom says that you need to clean up your room now that you're home.” Moira informed her with a laugh before turning around with a swish of her dark brown hair as she left the room.
“MO!! Are you kidding me?” Mallorie screamed after her younger sister, “I just got home!”
“Nope. And maybe you should start with that wretched butterfly. Welcome home Mal.” Moira's laughing voice trailed behind her.
“So much for winter break.” Mallorie thought wryly, turning her head to the aforementioned butterfly. The navy blue and teal paint a contrast to the lilac walls. Reaching her hand out to the wall beside her bead, she slowly traced her pointer finger against the lopsided outline of the butterfly's wings.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Are you sure that you want butterflies painted all over the walls?” Kate questioned skeptically, surveying the newly painted lilac walls with disdain.
“Definitely.” Mallorie replied, her bare feet crossing the tarp covered floor to pick up a paintbrush from the pile beside the open paint cans. “Now get back to work.” she joked tossing another paintbrush at her friend.
“Hey, watch it!” Kate cried, jumping back in fright as the paintbrush landed a few feet in front of her.
“Butterflies.” Mallorie reminded her, tucking a second paintbrush behind her ear and skipping back to her side with a smile.
“Ugh, fine. What color do you want the butterfly?” she asked as she picked up the paintbrush and moved to the wall opposite the door.
“Well ...” Mallorie started, shifting her feet back and forth.
“No way. I refuse to paint it pink. Please, I am begging you. Anything else.” Kate interrupted her friend.
“Who said I was going to say pink?” she retorted, turning away from the outlining brush strokes she had just completed to stare at her friend.
“I know you.” Kate laughed, untying her golden blonde hair from its drooping bun and redoing it with a few practiced moves.
“Whatever.” she responded, turning back to her wall. Holding her arm steady, she made a few long strokes to color in the butterfly wings a dark magenta. Ignoring the music suddenly filling the room with a sigh, she placed the pink stained brush behind her left ear and pulled the other to paint the body. The two girls immersed in their respective drawings, working on opposite walls with only the sound of 'Hey Jude' in the background.
“Finished!” Kate cried happily, stepping back and admiring her handiwork with an accomplished smile.
With a final brush of light pink to complete her own perfectly symmetrical butterfly, Mallorie turned her head towards her best friend. “What is that?” Mallorie questioned, her eyes locked on the blob of navy blue and teal that only slightly resembled a butterfly if she squinted her eyes and tilted her head just so.
“My butterfly.” Kate replied, chuckling quietly at the puzzled look on her friends face.
“That does not look anything like a butterfly?”
“What? I never said that I could draw a perfect butterfly Ms. Symmetry.”
“Why did you not say anything about it then?” Mallorie asked, moving so that she was now standing next to Kate.
“Well you know that I am no artist. You should have painted your room dark blue with stars like mine instead. I am the queen of drawing stars. It's my specialty.” Kate retorted, a bit defensively.
“Sorry Kate, the butterfly is fine.”
“You can always paint over it, Mal. I don't mind. I think I will stick to painting flowers on your walls instead.” Kate replied, swinging her arm around Mallorie's shoulder as the two of them stared at the butterfly on the wall in front of them.
The two girls heads turned simultaneously in response to the knock at the door. “Hey Mom.” Mallorie greeted.
“Hi Mrs. Kassidy.” Kate greeted cheerfully.
“Hi girls. The room is looking good.” Mrs. Kassidy responded. “Are you both ready for a little break?”
“Definitely.” Kate replied, putting her paintbrush back into the blue paint can.
“Alright. Come on in to the kitchen then. It's time for lunch.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Mallorie Elise, last time I checked daydreaming does not constitute as cleaning your bedroom.” Her mother joked from the doorjam.
“I just got home though. Can't I have a few days to relax before I start the whole cleaning thing?” Mallorie questioned, her voice borderline whining.
“Nice try. One day will turn into two, which will turn into a month and then break will be over and your room will still be a complete mess.”
“Fine.” she sulked.
“Fantastic. You can start with cleaning under your bed before dinnertime.” Mrs. Kassidy informed her. “The MacAllister's are coming over for dinner in half an hour.”
“Thanks Mom. I guess I need to start now if there is any chance of it getting done before break is over.”
“That a girl. Oh and Mallorie, it's nice to have you home.” her mother told her, heading down the hallway towards the kitchen.
“No time like the present.” Mallorie thought wryly. Falling to her knees beside the bed, she slowly peeked under the duvet. Piles of shoes and boxes filled nearly to the brim with sweaters greeted her. But it was a flash of dark blue and purple, hidden behind the shoes that caught her attention. Pushing her curly brown hair out of her grey eyes with one hand in a practiced gesture before moving a few items out of her way and pulling the small box out from under her bed.
Dust covered the top and the edges were tattered, held together with more metallic purple and navy blue duct tape than was necessary. She stared at it unblinkingly, wiping the dust off the cover and tracing her fingers over the childhood scribble there. Three words. Kate and Mallorie. Mallorie hesitated, glancing at her cell phone where it lay forgotten on the lilac bedspread as if Kate would pop out of it and reprimand her for even considering opening the box without her.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
April 17, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Seventeen Poetry:
Ode to a Mailbox
You are stationed
in many different places
on the house, by the road
standing proud and tall
Each day you are filled
bearing more news
than the day before
for me to puruse
You hold connections
from people near and far away
letters, cards, magazines
from friends and strangers alike
Ode to a Mailbox
You are stationed
in many different places
on the house, by the road
standing proud and tall
Each day you are filled
bearing more news
than the day before
for me to puruse
You hold connections
from people near and far away
letters, cards, magazines
from friends and strangers alike
Friday, April 16, 2010
April 16, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Sixteen Poetry:
Tears
Like a volcano they erupt
sometimes without warning
other times come expectedly
unwrapping memories
pain best left covered up
the darkest moments
as the barrier explodes
leaving it all out in the open
the heartbreak, the lost friends
spilling down cheeks
fighting to be closed up again
for the line to be redrawn
and the wall built up again
stronger than before
yet still fated to crumble
Tears
Like a volcano they erupt
sometimes without warning
other times come expectedly
unwrapping memories
pain best left covered up
the darkest moments
as the barrier explodes
leaving it all out in the open
the heartbreak, the lost friends
spilling down cheeks
fighting to be closed up again
for the line to be redrawn
and the wall built up again
stronger than before
yet still fated to crumble
Thursday, April 15, 2010
April 15, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Fifteen Poetry:
Strike A Pose
the camera awaits you
staring with an unblinking eye
you return the gaze
the music envelopes you
calming your senses
as your arms sway
finding the ideal resting spot
the perfect chemistry
as you strike a pose
Strike A Pose
the camera awaits you
staring with an unblinking eye
you return the gaze
the music envelopes you
calming your senses
as your arms sway
finding the ideal resting spot
the perfect chemistry
as you strike a pose
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
April 14, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Fourteen Poetry:
A Flower Blooms
slowly creeping to the surface
from your hiding spot amongst the worms
pushing rocks and moist soil out of your path
to greet the outside world
sun shines on your tiny leaves for the first time
granting you strength, like that of a soldier
to grow and fight for survival
as leather soled enemies approach
threatening to bring you down
before you had the chance
to share your petaled beauty
with the environment encompassing you
A Flower Blooms
slowly creeping to the surface
from your hiding spot amongst the worms
pushing rocks and moist soil out of your path
to greet the outside world
sun shines on your tiny leaves for the first time
granting you strength, like that of a soldier
to grow and fight for survival
as leather soled enemies approach
threatening to bring you down
before you had the chance
to share your petaled beauty
with the environment encompassing you
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
April 13, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Thirteen Poetry:
Faded Memories
darkness wraps around me
as comfortably as your faded sweatshirt
that I still cling on to
hug to my slight frame
though it no longer smells like you
a stolen token
reminding me
even when I wish only to forget
in the darkness
alone
Faded Memories
darkness wraps around me
as comfortably as your faded sweatshirt
that I still cling on to
hug to my slight frame
though it no longer smells like you
a stolen token
reminding me
even when I wish only to forget
in the darkness
alone
Monday, April 12, 2010
April 12, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Twelve Poetry:
A Favorite Book
the crinkled pages
yellowed and torn
from repetitive use
each inked letter
committed to memory
characters fighting
across the page
or falling into
one anothers arms
draws the reader
into its depths
and holds them
captive
A Favorite Book
the crinkled pages
yellowed and torn
from repetitive use
each inked letter
committed to memory
characters fighting
across the page
or falling into
one anothers arms
draws the reader
into its depths
and holds them
captive
Sunday, April 11, 2010
April 11, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Eleven Poetry:
The Door
a beacon
drawing the eye
of friends and passerbys
welcoming company
greeting guests
with its bright blue color
vibrant in the sunlight
a new front door
The Door
a beacon
drawing the eye
of friends and passerbys
welcoming company
greeting guests
with its bright blue color
vibrant in the sunlight
a new front door
Saturday, April 10, 2010
April 10, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Ten Poetry:
Happy Birthday
Twenty candles
alight on top the cake
each one representing
a different moment
a landmark that you achieved
from the year you said your first word
to graduating high school
and going off to college last year
Happy Birthday to me!
Happy Birthday
Twenty candles
alight on top the cake
each one representing
a different moment
a landmark that you achieved
from the year you said your first word
to graduating high school
and going off to college last year
Happy Birthday to me!
Friday, April 9, 2010
April 9,2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Nine Poetry:
Ode to a Vacuum Cleaner
you wake up the whole home
in your attempt to make it clean
around the rooms you roam
because cleanliness is the American dream
the whirling and swirling of sounds
jar the ear of everyone far and near
cleaning day is found in each and every town
where the thought of chores make children weep in fear
the doorbell sounds, the company has arrived
your job is finally done for the moment
the thought that the home is dirty is so contrived
as you retire to the closet and become dormant
Ode to a Vacuum Cleaner
you wake up the whole home
in your attempt to make it clean
around the rooms you roam
because cleanliness is the American dream
the whirling and swirling of sounds
jar the ear of everyone far and near
cleaning day is found in each and every town
where the thought of chores make children weep in fear
the doorbell sounds, the company has arrived
your job is finally done for the moment
the thought that the home is dirty is so contrived
as you retire to the closet and become dormant
Thursday, April 8, 2010
April 8, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Eight Poetry:
Outdoors
the tranquil breeze
a gust of air
amongst the heat
water doused on lawns
children's laughter
as they run underneath
sprinkler waterfalls
like hummingbirds
their energy inexhaustible
fluttering from one place
to another in an instance
singing songs, dancing
wearing flowers in hair
grateful to be out of doors
no longer caged up
Outdoors
the tranquil breeze
a gust of air
amongst the heat
water doused on lawns
children's laughter
as they run underneath
sprinkler waterfalls
like hummingbirds
their energy inexhaustible
fluttering from one place
to another in an instance
singing songs, dancing
wearing flowers in hair
grateful to be out of doors
no longer caged up
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
April 7, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Seven Poetry:
The Show
the clicking of the clock
chimed throughout
the small room
tick tock tick tock
each second passing
as the light from the stage
flickers steadily
tick tock tick tock
darkness wraps the room
movement occurs
it has begun
tick tock tick tock
The Show
the clicking of the clock
chimed throughout
the small room
tick tock tick tock
each second passing
as the light from the stage
flickers steadily
tick tock tick tock
darkness wraps the room
movement occurs
it has begun
tick tock tick tock
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
April 6, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Six Poetry:
The Masterpiece
colors flash across
the newly turned page
red, orange, yellow
aided by an ink-stained hand
like a hawk descending on its prey
purple, blue, green
in search of its muse
to complete the frame
The Masterpiece
colors flash across
the newly turned page
red, orange, yellow
aided by an ink-stained hand
like a hawk descending on its prey
purple, blue, green
in search of its muse
to complete the frame
Monday, April 5, 2010
April 5, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Five Poetry:
Spring Is Here
Spring is here again
Playful children's laughter
Roaming the yard like wanderers
In a desert, searching for a
New adventure, a place to
Grow
Spring Is Here
Spring is here again
Playful children's laughter
Roaming the yard like wanderers
In a desert, searching for a
New adventure, a place to
Grow
Sunday, April 4, 2010
April 4, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Four Poetry:
Riding Around
the crackling of the pebbles beneath the tires
wind whooshing past, hair streaming like a banner
flying amidst the white lace of moths beside you
the creaking of the petals underneath worn sneakers
legs pumping faster and faster past the park
freedom
Riding Around
the crackling of the pebbles beneath the tires
wind whooshing past, hair streaming like a banner
flying amidst the white lace of moths beside you
the creaking of the petals underneath worn sneakers
legs pumping faster and faster past the park
freedom
Saturday, April 3, 2010
April 3, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Three Poetry:
Color Guard
Colors flash across the sky
Crimson, lilac and turquoise
Telling the story of the music
Each note, accented by dance
Every step, a message portrayed
Emotion flowing through the field
Heads high as they smile and project
Applause lost in the careful count
Minds filled with drill and melody
A final pose, the flag drops to the ground
Color Guard
Colors flash across the sky
Crimson, lilac and turquoise
Telling the story of the music
Each note, accented by dance
Every step, a message portrayed
Emotion flowing through the field
Heads high as they smile and project
Applause lost in the careful count
Minds filled with drill and melody
A final pose, the flag drops to the ground
Friday, April 2, 2010
April 2, 2010 - NaPoWriMo
Day Two Poetry:
The Alarm
Beep Beep BEEP
hands reach out
from their sanctuary
under warm covers
groping for the snooze
just a moment more
of coveted rest
Beep Beep BEEP
rings across the room
a buzz in the silence
like a bee traveling to flowers
in places across the globe
from America to Australia
in Zambia and Zimbabwe
Beep Beep BEEP
sleep is doused from eyes
as they slowly open
and greet the new day
peeking open to survey
as a bear leaves its cave
in the early days of spring
awaiting to start fresh
The Alarm
Beep Beep BEEP
hands reach out
from their sanctuary
under warm covers
groping for the snooze
just a moment more
of coveted rest
Beep Beep BEEP
rings across the room
a buzz in the silence
like a bee traveling to flowers
in places across the globe
from America to Australia
in Zambia and Zimbabwe
Beep Beep BEEP
sleep is doused from eyes
as they slowly open
and greet the new day
peeking open to survey
as a bear leaves its cave
in the early days of spring
awaiting to start fresh
Thursday, April 1, 2010
April 1, 2010 - NaPoWriMo Begins!!
Day One Poetry:
The Scramble for the Class
Laptops flipping open
its that time of year again
nine o'clock on the dot
when students all over campus
in pajamas or dressed for class
logging in to the university site
the flurry of keys worthless
pin numbers entered in vain
the system is down once more
seconds tick by but to no avail
emails sent without answers
advisors absent when needed most
traveling from building to building
like mail flying to and fro
until it stops at its destination
the stress of scheduling complete
as the classes appear on the screen.
Finally.
The Scramble for the Class
Laptops flipping open
its that time of year again
nine o'clock on the dot
when students all over campus
in pajamas or dressed for class
logging in to the university site
the flurry of keys worthless
pin numbers entered in vain
the system is down once more
seconds tick by but to no avail
emails sent without answers
advisors absent when needed most
traveling from building to building
like mail flying to and fro
until it stops at its destination
the stress of scheduling complete
as the classes appear on the screen.
Finally.
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