#national poetry month 2024

[sheshallfromtimetotime]

National Poetry Month - Day Four Storm, Lake Superior - Ethna McKiernan

[sswslitinmotion]

Well, National Poetry Month 2024 is drawing to a close. But, we can always keep reading poetry. Check out this post "Never Read Poetry? Here's Where to Begin" by Chris M. Arnone, Book Riot, date line April 12, 2024. Arnone does a nice overview of where to begin with reading poetry, and has links to guides, including his own guides, over at Book Riot. Worth checking out. Keep reading! -- ssw15

[askatknits]

Thursday's are for Poetry | 4.25.24

Welcome to my favorite day of National Poetry Month — Poem In Your Pocket Day! Every April I like to add a new book to my Poetry Library… and this year, dear Ada Limón had the perfect collection with perfect timing! You Are Here Poetry in the Natural World was published April 2! I have been reading through it with delight! It is full of beautiful poems! The poem I have selected for you to tuck…

[marimuntanya]

Torso of AirBY OCEAN VUONGSuppose you do change your life.& the body is more thana portion of night––sealedwith bruises. Suppose you woke& found your shadow replacedby a black wolf. The boy, beautiful& gone. So you take the knife to the wallinstead. You carve & carveuntil a coin of light appears& you get to look in, at last,on happiness. The eyestaring back from the other side––waiting.Ocean Vuong, "Torso of Air" from Night Sky with Exit Wounds. Copyright © 2016 by Ocean Vuong. Reprinted by permission of Copper Canyon Press, www.coppercanyonpress.org.

[schuylerpeck]

Woot woot!! It’s NAPOWRIMO time, babeeeyyy!! Pen a poem everyday for 30 days or browse around and write when you can—the choice is yours. ❤️ I’ve loved making prompt lists over the years and I’m excited to see what this years brings. Be silly! Write some bad poems! Write some okay poems! Enjoy ya’self. Love you. ❤️

instagram: hiitssky

[septembersung]

[jasminesuntrell]

No More Fucking Butterflies (19/30)

I have decided the next man I meet who makes me nervous is getting blocked, walked away from- I'll run if I have to. No conversation, no glances, no more whirlwind romances, I'm not giving chances. I'm through.

Who the hell decided butterflies in the tummy was something to romanticize in the first place? For me, I think it's my body trying to tell me to get as far as I can from this demonic creature who will only cause me harm but I kept thinking it's a good thing if his presence can make me stumble over words.

Hell no.

Neutrality is the way to go. The man you're mostly unaware of until he gives you good reasons to be. The one who doesn’t prey on the unbalanced chemical reaction that happens when you lay eyes on him.

And maybe the love story won't be the stuff of an indie romance film but it will be stable and real. It won't give you more material from which to heal. It will provide you with bliss more enduring than the intoxications of fleeting butterflies.

[spoke9]

Cecilia Vicuña

Jungle Kill

I uproot & save

mental venture

I split the dream

of the slow

& neutral

Persist

& breathe

My little flask

Pointy wisp

Pubescent valve

Join

the game

I smoke

& praise you

Hew

& raze you

Jungle

kill

Bulldoze

your sierra

Fire

to ash

I wait

& wait

And you

where are you

Fragrant

lantana

Aim

your voice

In calm

plains

In silence

wild

Erasing

the thirst

The weightless

altar

insults

the blood

Awake

diagonals

Rot

& Stand

Go & go

Flower

gaining

Plant your will!

[hepatosaurus]

national poetry month, day 30

Why Poetry Cannot Be Skimmed In response to a student who told me he just “skims” the poetry right before class The barn was in the Netherlands, in a field where fierce night wind caught the straw as if to fuse the winter stars to their coldness. A farmer, woken by the sound, knowing his animals would be agitated, walked to the barn and by lantern brushed the tails of his horses. In calming them he gathered many long, gleaming strands of their nut-brown hair. Given over to what he heard in the swishing of their tails— the lash, the taut string of grief, turned slow, persistence turned to rhythmic movement— he hoped that if he listened long enough the layered sound would become a salve. He rolled the strands together, laid out along the windowsills of the barn. Then, once dry enough in spring, he rolled them in paraffin wax to preserve the sound and left them to absorb all the varied rays of sun, the spills of rain, and then snow flying fast across the latched windows and the slats, the rhythm of other breathing, animals plodding by the barn walls. The wax melted as the years progressed and other horses resided in the stalls, and their tail strands were added to the aging threads. From that encased sound deepening over years, a rope, pulled strong and taut, would resonate. Then another generation worked the land and waxed the horse-tail cord again, and in turn when it caught that century’s light, was spun into amber. Woven into the cells of hair: the tones of canal and field, pasture, furrows of plough, leaf and shadow, straw and stone, the human calling, the animal uttering. And when melted again, incrementally strands from other horses living there were added until there were enough layers of sound, set with the nourishment of grass and salt, to be given away and the space the hair had occupied would be returned to emptiness. The horse-hair cord was brought by a farmer to a luthier’s shop along a canal, and it was a perfect fit, she said, for a violin bow she had carved a few months earlier, waiting, and for the bow-less violin someone had just given her. She knew rosin carrying a current through pastures, filled thirst, and the grief of night wind and scavenged apples made the gathered pieces a whole. And now they are together in your hands this moment to make unrehearsed, immediate, after all those animals’ years, when you bring the instrument to your chin, when you raise the hair-strung bow, again their elemental sounding, and then their measured note, their first. —Jessica Jopp

[sheshallfromtimetotime]

National Poetry Month - Day Eleven Eschatology - Eve L. Ewing

[awareness-and-healing]

My dear followers, this April 2024 month posts are dedicated to two topics:

First, the aRt of Beautiful Words composed as Poetry as 'April is National Poetry Month '...📃🖋

And

Secondly, avoidant attachment style, a topic that is very dear to my heart personally and I hope that it can help and possibly contribute something to healing...❤️‍🩹❤️

.

Thank you for following, for your likes and feedbacks...

.H.

.🙏❤️

.

[sswslitinmotion]

I may have shared this link previously, but I'll have to check that at a later time. Presenting: the NPR link to the Life Kit podcast episode about How to Get Into Poetry, from March 30, 2020 - back in the dark days of the COVID-19 pandemic, when we were seeking the arts for solace. NPR's post for this episode has been updated as of April 19, 2024, in time for National Poetry Month, summing up 5 great tips on how to read poetry - including "To read poetry like a poet, don't worry about 'getting it.'"

It's a good post to read, and still a good listen, even if we're past the pandemic but we still need the arts because we're living in crazy times. -- ssw15

Per NPR's Andrew Limbong:

Don't approach poetry like it's school.

Don't worry about "getting it."

Read it out loud.

Visualize the poem.

Read a lot of poetry.

[askatknits]

Thursday's are for poetry | 4.18.24

Welcome to Week Three of National Poetry Month! This week our theme is Color… and I was so excited about that! When I think of color and poetry, one beloved poet comes to my mind, Derek Walcott. I know of no other poet who has the thread of color weaving through so many of his poems and I have immersed myself deeply in his works… I don’t ever need an excuse to read any of his poetry, but a deep…

[marimuntanya]

En perseguirme, Mundo, ¿qué interesas?

En perseguirme, Mundo, ¿qué interesas? ¿En qué te ofendo, cuando sólo intento poner bellezas en mi entendimiento y no mi entendimiento en las bellezas?

Yo no estimo tesoros ni riquezas; y así, siempre me causa más contento poner riquezas en mi pensamiento que no mi pensamiento en las riquezas.

Y no estimo hermosura que, vencida, es despojo civil de las edades, ni riqueza me agrada fementida,

teniendo por mejor, en mis verdades, consumir vanidades de la vida que consumir la vida en vanidades.

[poeticfawnbug]

escapril 2024 day one, change of state.

it’s national poetry month and i’m so excited to join in with #escapril this year!

(@poeticfawnbug on ig)

[septembersung]

April as poetry month also means NaPoWriMo - write 30 poems in 30 days.

One complete set of prompts here

Daily prompts posted here