#napowrimo 2023

[dobaara]

questions to ask the other me by S.R.

napowrimo day 3 using @mercuriian 's prompts (x): ‘the other me’ (description in alt)

[torrentialmonsoon]

we converge like the teals and turquoises of the caribbean sea; we rise and fall like the tsunamis inside me.

[salovie]

“Sleep” is the thing with thorns -

That blooms along the path -

And sways away when I reach and pray -

To pluck it in my grasp -

And when at last - I touch it - pricks

And stings along my palm -

Is such a rest worth all these tricks -

Should I keep furthering Along?

I’ve heard it is Important -

But so hard to obtain -

And tougher yet - to hold on tight,

Without fight - to Dream again.

[wheatfieldspoet]

because i am your daughter

“The most beautiful part of your body is wherever your mother’s shadow falls.” — Ocean Vuong

i rarely heard people say we looked alike until i grew into my pretty. always on the other side of the immigration lineup, i was convinced our likeness was scarce.

when i am compared to you, i ask for them to list the ways. at least half of me is you; all of me, i learned from you. we are alike in some ways i don’t want to admit.

it’s said that daughters look at their mothers and see what they do not want to become. in adolescent angst, i swore it— but in truth, there was too much of you i loved.

you are the first person i ever admired and that will never go away. your shadow cast a spotlight under which i learned to perform; i am not sure i know how to simply be.

there are things we do not have to talk about, but i wonder: do you regret that i did not become the vision you had while you were creating me?

my crowning brought the end of your youth and changed you to mother, forever. i know there are parts of me now you do not recognize—can you love them, too?

i love you forever, i’ll like you for always and i am sorry for everything. we have both said i love yous in place of apologies.

sometimes i wish i never knew how much you bled for me; that you would do it again in a heartbeat, even without my asking— even without my gratitude, you would.

i’m sorry, mom. i lie to you because i am your daughter; there are pieces of me i must hide in case you cannot love them.

i don’t love anyone else the way i love you. there is no one’s judgment i want to hear less of, and no one’s approval i am more desperate for.

maybe someday i’ll finally grow up and won’t need you as much as i still do. but i was you before i became me, and you are my home before any other.

mom, it is hard to be without you. but on days when your shadow is far, i cast my own against the sun and feel you in the warmth on my face.

— jade a.

escapril day 14: a miniature

@poetryorchard day 14: “who am i without you?”

bonus prompt - @darlingwendy: An epigraph is “a quotation from another literary work that is placed beneath the title at the beginning of a poem or section of a poem.” It gives a reader something else to hold in mind as the poem is read. Today, pick a quote from a favorite poem to use as an epigraph.

[lipstickonmugs]

I can't wait till morning

The sun behind the curtains

Our quiet breathing

A boiling kettle

Hot water hitting ceramic

That first taste

And it's not even noon

The day is still just beginning

Monday is out of reach

The first cool breeze

It's gentle

soft

so

fragile

Noon comes

And goes

And you enjoy

What the afternoon has to offer

Cherish the stars

But also

Just waiting

For morning

...

b.t.a. Napowrimo 2023, Day #12

[acelessthan3]

It wouldn't be April

without a poem about

that Itch

circular hands

red rice balls at the intersection

a trio of spring robins in hand

It wouldn't be spring

without tired forearms,

a Bend and Snap™ that would make

Jennifer Coolidge proud,

dirt from the sidewalk

underneath my fingernails.

Every year like the cherry blossoms

and daffodils

like a ball finally caught

after hanging at the apex

the perfect projectile arch

where forces reach their equilibrium

and gravity reasserts it's dominance

[thecanishades]

Lambskin

(im on mobile so I can't add a heading ugh)

My father is two different men

The father I know

And the man he hides in the box

Lambskin, a bowtie,

And a book of lies

My father and the man who wears a disguise

Stories of secret halls

Meetings with lords

Histories and mysteries I will never know

Hidden in the box

One day I'll look

At the man in the box

The man who my father can't discuss

[mabhsavage]

NaPoWriMo Day 30: Into May

Image shows a mayfly siting on a pale metal surface. Image copyright Mabh Savage 2023 The mayfly’s butt wiggles and those Long trails flip and flash Sitting on my car Early, you’re early I say, You won’t even see May You’ll be gone by this time tomorrow But to you that life is full Rich Fulfilling You’ll do your thing While we do ours We’re all just living At different time…

[whirlsofwords]

EVERYBODY LIES

Everybody lies

when you ask why they aren’t writing.

Everybody lies.

“Not enough time.”

“The kids are fighting.”

“The stars aren’t aligned.”

If I think I should be doing something,

then I answer as I think I should.

But why should it matter?

Who does it harm?

Laziness does not exist;

we are animals.

There is no purpose on this earth

that we don’t make.

I choose to take joy

in my day to day

and sometimes things get in the way

and sometimes joy

does not include writing.

[dobaara]

I once fell in love with a boy from Paris, who worked in a funeral parlor, selling sad flowers by S.R.

napowrimo day 12 using @mercuriian 's prompts (x): ‘(city flowers)’ (title inspired by the painting of faye wei wei with the same name)

[schuylerpeck]

27/30: write a poem risky enough to make you blush

schuylerpeck / instagram: hiitssky

[torrentialmonsoon]

i love the way your scent always fills the entirety of a room; sprinkle of pomegranate tea with a hint of smoked honey woods. i love the way your scent blankets me softly, so now i burn candles named after you. - i love naming things after you.

[salovie]

she fluttered for miles

to touch down here, on your skin,

bright like a flower

[rustbeltjessie]

Name me. I’ll open. My chest, the wind—easterly. Call me skirt and fly-trap, poison lilac. Polluted riverbank. Call me river, Kinnickinnic. Trash-fish. Gathering-place. I’ll show you. The freights, the tracks. The androgyne. Dark beneath. Girl sailor. Ghost river. Bandit boy. Who played pirate? I’ll show you this—mermaid. This river-dark. This wind.

Jessie Lynn McMains, from an as-yet-untitled poem (NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 17)

[wheatfieldspoet]

litany of the yearning heart

“Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s terrifying.” — Richard Siken

God, i know i’m patient but i don’t know for how much longer. why is it not enough to want things and put in the work? i’m ready now—and i want all of it.

i’m talking about love, of course. give me all the cheese, the instagram posts with overdone one-liners or full-length novels as captions. i want every reason to smile, because everything reminds me of them.

love is a choice and i have always wondered what it must be like to be loved on purpose, for someone to find me and say: you—it’s you i want. i am choosing to love you. i wish being loved was as easy as loving.

this is not to say i fall in love easily—if only it came easier to me. i don’t know how to love without being transformed or consumed. as a child, i was taught that love is forever; i wish i was told that it was hard, too.

i understand all of the advice, i just don’t think it applies to me. love yourself—they say, and i do—the way you love others—listen! i know no other way than this. i only ever love one way: completely, and the way i want to be loved.

maybe that’s the problem: i want to be all-in in love—including the bad days. the disappointments and apologies; the surprises and tears, whichever kind. to have something promised.

even if it ends up broken. i want to fuck up and have to make up for it, to have someone other than myself to be better for. i don’t want it to just mean something—i want it to be everything.

and i do mean everything: healing and hurting, better or worse, etcetera. it’s already been said so many ways. i know what i’m asking for, God— i’ve been asking. so when shall i receive?

— jade a.

escapril day 17: the horror!

bonus prompt - @adventurerswritingguild: Create a piece exploring the overwhelming, all-consuming desire of being chosen.

[lipstickonmugs]

It is not enough

To worry about myself

Not enough to keep this one being

Moving, breathing, parallel with time

Not enough to buy a birthday gift

Write a poem

Bring coffee and breakfast

It is

Not enough

To unlean

Grow

Heal

Instead

Your shoulders need to ache

Fear always in your mouth

Swim through broken glass

Cry forever

Move parallel with time despite

The anchors in every time zone

For fucks sake keep the light on

Changing the bulb

Is simply

Not enough

...

b.t.a "Eldest Daughter"

Napowrimo 2023, Day #19ish