Camp NaPo 2018
Here I will endeavor to write a poem a day for the week of Aug. 6 - 12 and maybe do some of the daily challenges as well!
*nibbles on some s'mores to fuel poetry writing*
alliyah's Camp NaPo Logbook
11 posts in this topic.
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August 6
Here's my first poem of the Camp Week! (Wrote it during @shaniac's poetry jam)
i keep losing words
like pennies dropped in fountains
spent for empty wishes and
i wish, i wish, i wish
i could tell you
all the words that sink
in my stomach or
get caught in the silences.
but it's foolish, i suppose, to drown
recovering only pocket-change
but sometimes
i think i might. -
poem two: 8.6.18
(Written in @Ladybird's Workshop/Jam)
You told me that dandelions were sun drops
and I clutched them in my hands
You told me I could be anything or anyone
and I tried to reach all the sun beams
You told me that raindrops are tears
broken from the heavens and I cried louder
You told me that you cared,
You told me that a mother's work is never done
and I believed you as long as I could.
You told me that my failure wasn't my fault.
That it didn't define me.
You told me that there'd be another chance.
That it would be okay.
You told me that I still mattered.
but I had a hard time believing
the person who mistook weeds for dreams
But rain fell like waves from your eyes
and you clutched my hands in your own.
You told me a mother's work is never done,
so I'll hold your words as long as I can. -
poem 3: 8.6.18 (for the Daily Challenge)
I like the idea of camping much more in theory.
I long for warming my hands by open flames,
and dancing free among the evergreen trees,
and sleeping a breath away from all the stars.
But in practice, I'm too afraid of stray sparks.
And I trip over waves of self-consciousness
when I dance even in the audience of a forest.
And the tarp that separates me from the sky
is both too thin and too vast to protect me
from suffocating.
And for me the idea of falling in love
is so much lovelier in theory;
Just holding hands and dancing close,
and telling secrets with voices hushed so quiet
that you and the stars are the only ones to hear.
But in practice, I'm too afraid of stray sparks.
And I trip over waves of self-conciousness
when I even think about dancing or
dreaming of telling you how really feel.
And love alone seems too thin and too vast
to protect me from suffocating.
So I watch my stars from windows
and I love you arm's length
because for now, I am too afraid. -
poem four: 8.7.18
wrote in @tgirly's current events poem -- also if anyone wants to comment in my logbook, please feel free to!
I heard three weeks ago on the radio
between pop-hits and ads for insurance
that the hometown grocery store
is enlisting a voluntary recall
of all macaroni salad products
Chef Debora apologized,
"there may be a small chance,
that your salad has been con-
taminated with a tiny bit of
salmonella." long radio pause
I turn the volume up, because
I enjoy their grocery-chain salads
"and we don't want anyone
to get sick, so bring your macaroni
for a full refund or another salad" -
poem five: 8.7.18
Here's the one for the Daily Challenge!
No adjectives!
Forgive me for telling you how I feel.
Waves and hurricanes don't know caution,
and drowning is death if disguised as breathing.
So I prefer crying to choking on tears,
and I'll tell you I love you in
fireworks and fireflies and poetry
even if it hurts and I feel like drowning.
Because I figure, someone should know. -
poem six: 8.8.18
Apologies that this doesn't really make sense, it's my attempt at a two voice poem for the night. Maybe I'll try something different in the morning!:) Challenge 3 Daily Challenge.
I'm so sick of speeding nowhere,
empty roads, like empty days, and
empty bottles in a ditch, kicked away.
And I don't think I can turn around.
If you forget who you are,
it's best to make something up,
people are less suspicious
of people who have names.
I don't think it'd even
make a difference
if I knew the destination,
because driving is such a hassle.
It's not that having a name
puts them at ease, it's just
no one likes empty space,
or question marks.
But don't tell me where to go
because I stopped taking directions
from hitchhikers the last time
I drove off a cliff. -
poem seven: 8.9.18
(Poems written in @Aley's workshop!)
As this tent is latched to the earth
our attention draws into the night
while nature begins her new birth
sky lit with moon children and starlight
we'll join with fires from matches
and write our names in ashes,
to honor the fallen day
and bless the new on its way.
Poem eight: 8.9.18
(A sonnet with lines from "Pentametron" https://twitter.com/pentametron?lang=en the twitter bot, don't ask me what it means, just enjoy it.)
"You have forgotten something, haven't you?"
"forget forget forget forget forget"
"forget I must review review review"
"tell us the girl, and wipe away the debt"
"she hesitated, lingered, but complied."
"oh wierd the chickens kiss in chicken run"
"they just arrived and I already died"
"tomorrow is the biggest biggest one"
"might be the whisky or the midnight rain"
"I hope tomorrow is a better day"
"no rocket strapping for a hurricane"
"another baby found a home today"
"some people never really go away"
"want extra money for the holidays" -
poem nine: 8.10.18
(here's an acrostic poem, inspired by WritingPrincess's workshop)
Courage sometimes comes in
a poem, or a verse, or
maybe just a word said at the perfect
point in time. But,
Never underestimate the bravery of
a word said at an imperfect
Point in time. Because it's
often the broken edges, that make meaning. -
poem ten: 8.11.18
(I wrote this in MJ's writing jam for today's Daily Challenge - which was to write a "fire" poem without the first fire words that come to mind - the first "fire words" I could think of were: bright, flashing, matches, ashes, warm, fire, wood, firewood, crackle, bright, explosive, hot, ash, s'mores, camp, kindle, burn, ember)
Here's the poem!
pyriscence
flint and steel never flare if left apart
and I find you're easier to get along with
when I can pretend to forget who you are.
but scars made from stray sparks
aren't easy to hide, I keep tracing my hand
in the letters of your name,
and wondering if silvery letters still cross your mind.
and even with my eyes close, there's a shadow of light
imprinted across my vision,
and I can almost hear your laugh
and your breath
in the silences.
where earth is left in scorched ruin,
a wake of destruction is always left
and sometimes I wonder if
I would have been better off if we never met.
but I don't find that regretting the flame
is much help when you're still trying to extinguish coals.
so I'll grit my teeth, and tell you goodbye,
but don't ask me to regret falling in love. -
poem eleven: 8.12.18
I did a poem for Casanova's contest with some lines from all of my Camp NaPo poems. Some were kind of tricky to fit in there, but it was fun!
i keep losing words
i could tell you
you told me that dandelions were sun drops
might be whisky or the midnight rain
but i had a hard time believing
because for now, I am too afraid
there may be a small chance
drowning is death disguised as breathing
and i'll tell you i love you in
a word said at an imperfect
point in time. Because it's
empty bottles in a ditch, kicked away
and write our names in ashes
and wondering if silvery letters still cross your mind.
you told me that you cared
and you clutched my hand in your own.
you told me that you cared
and telling secrets with voices hushed so quiet
that you and the stars are the only ones to hear
and sometimes i wonder if
i would have been better off if we never met
but i don't think it'd even
make a difference
but sometimes
i think it might.
but i don't find that regretting the flame
is much help when you're still trying to extinguish coals.
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