Of Lightning and Lightning Bugs (NaPo 2016)

"The difference between the right word and the nearly right word is the same as that between lightning and the lightning bug" - Mark Twain


Index

Spoiler

1. Freedom
2. Self Doubt
3. Simply Put
4. The Blue Side of the Fence
5. Those Eyes
6. Autumn
7. Spring
8. Overflow
9. Burden
10. Exploration and Mastery
11. Wings
12. Bring the Rain
13. Dancing Without Music
14. Weary
15. Musicianship
16. Here I Go
17. Him
18. Her
19. My Friend The Storm-Maker and World-Shaper
20. From the Third Wheel
21. The Same Tune
22. My Little Friend
23. Slowly Falling
24. Change
25. Choices
26. Old Soul
27. Ghosts
28. The Formal
29. The Goal
30. Dancing

1/30

Freedom

I'm letting go
of all my dreams.
Letting the natural flow
run with its schemes.

Waiting, so that I can be
undeniably, truly, me.

This is really cute!

Are you going to stick with a theme for your 30 poems or just go all over the place?

Since this is my first time doing NaPo I'm not going to hold myself too strictly to anything. I am going to try to do different types of poems each day. Yesterday started out as a cinquain, but I couldn't get the last line right so I deviated a little bit and added another line.

http://shadowpoetry.com/ <-- this has all of the forums
and if you want to see what ones are easier, I made a thing a while ago to help with that too. https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/ ... edit#gid=0

Thanks for the links Aley!

I just said I was going to try to practice different forms of poetry and now the one I'm working on is free verse. lol
Let's hope I hold to that goal a little better tomorrow. Although, it isn't that big of a deal if I don't. Just gotta write all the poems. haha

2/30

Self Doubt

In my usual clumsiness
I've made a mess of things again.

Poor communication,
lack of focus,
and uncertain meaning
get the best of me.

I don't know how
to clarify what I meant.

I don't know how
to show you my intent.

I can't even
push forward past
my own cluelessness .

So I'll just muddle along
embarrassed
and afraid
that I've ruined my only shot
of letting you see
who I really am.

3/30


Simply Put

I can not simply let you read
this little piece of scribbles.

For many it is but words
spread neatly on a page.

But for me it is a tiny piece
of my soul, ripped out.

Please wait and let me
make it perfect first.

Then you can make
of it what you will.

If you so desire
you can crush it.

4/30


Written with the lovely @Aley

The Blue Side of the Fence

If there was a heaven
made just for writers
what would it look like?

The compound had to be huge
thousands of acres spread
like the long arms of a polar bear
with a thick furry belly to keep it warm

Would we each have a team
of researchers at our beck and call?
Or would we still have to enjoy
the process of finding things ourselves?

We might have an endless buffet
of anything we could ever imagine to eat
cooked up by a lab of literary geniuses.
Their one job, make our dreams a reality.

We'd have no need for money
or material things.
Simplicity to focus
our ever wandering interest.

Or, perhaps, would we be quartered off
stashed away in holes of heaven
tucked into our own personal dreams
of the best place to write?

We'd still each need
a companion.
Someone to inspire us
and maybe even
write with us.

But they'd need to leave us alone
when we got overwhelmed by
our creativity, drilling us into our "zone."

And everyone would read
each other's works
to guarantee an audience
for each and every writer.

Oh wait, we have a heaven already,
YWS does that doesn't it? We read
and eat our fellow writers' work
devouring their content greedily
like hungry munchkins

So I guess a writer heaven
would be blue and white
online, full of helpful friends,
and inside jokes.

And miles of articles written
just for us, by us, about us,
exploring our craft and tools.

Here's to you, YWS.
Thanks for always
being there for us.




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5/30


Those Eyes

Shining droplets of
intelligence, full of joy,
are those wise, blue eyes.

6/30


Autumn

I can hear the leaves
crunch gently beneath
my feet.

The cool wind
bites at my neck
and fingertips.

Birds sing their final songs
before they leave
to flee the cold.

The warmth of the sun,
a welcome change,
it embraces me.

The smells of
cinnamon and
pumpkin drift lazily.

This is the time of year
for dying, for sleeping.
A time for renewal.

The harsh winter will
batter us down,
but in the spring

we will bloom again.

7/30


Spring

The sun's warmth plays
gently across my skin.
It invites me to stay
outside, with it.

The wind crawls along
my back, down my arms,
around my neck, saying
go inside, where you belong.

The grass and flowers
invite me to take off
my shoes, let my toes
free of their confines.

The cool earth says
winter's not over.
It hasn't let go of
its grip on us yet.

Oh, how I'd love to stay
outside in my freedom
but I see the rain coming
and I can wait for summer.

9/30


Burden

The thing about me is
I live in the extremes.
Always craving both sides
but never settling
for the in-between.

10/30


Exploration and Mastery

A jack of all trades
yet master of none.

I have no place
in today's society.
Or any, for that matter.

I go wherever
my mind wanders.
I stay only as long
as I need.

My heart, it goes after
so many different things.
I can't catch them all
so I end up helplessly
meandering between.

To find a profession
to do the rest of my life
shall be the death of me.
My inner spirit will cry
if my freedom and flight
are taken from me.

I shall try everything
I can on this earth.
Yet no matter how long
I may live
I doubt I ever will
master a single one.