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A Dragon of Carefully-Chosen Words



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Fri Mar 22, 2019 11:26 am
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Cadi says...



Alriight, its' that time of year again! Bring it, April.

Comments and feedback absolutely welcome! Liked a line? Thought a phrase landed funny? Let me know!

NaPo 2018
NaPo 2017
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Sun Mar 31, 2019 9:55 am
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Cadi says...



To get me in the mood on March 31st, I'm going to collect some stuff from the Poetry Party Inspiration Activity Hunt in this post.

1 (Goals): NaPo Goals
2 (Non-YWS Poem): What Cowboys Know About Love, by Louis McKee
3 (Structure):
4 (Mine): There are actually several of my previous NaPoems that I think have good ideas but might benefit from a revist - mostly because I remember what I was trying to say with them, but the end result didn't wind up saying the thing that was intended. From 2017: #2, #10, #14, #27. From 2018: #2, #21, #24
5 (Something Outside): A tree! It is tall and narrow-limbed, all slender branches, in a kind of grey-brown, smooth-barked, leaves starting to grow in little bunches of small, bright green spikes which will soon spread out.
6 (Haiku Train/One Word Group Poem):

7 (Quote): Three from Bill Watterson: "It's always better to leave the party early.", "I liked things better when I didn't understand them.", and "It's not denial. I'm just selective about the reality I accept."
8 (Prompt Central): Kelli Russell Agodon: Think of the nicest thing someone ever said to you. Write a poem about a rainy day and something
flooding. End the poem with the good thing someone said.

9 (Poetic Line Generator): snowflakes of discord whisper wordlessly,
10 (Page 30): Diana Wynne Jones's The Lives of Christopher Chant: you must be the only person in the world who can bring back solid objects from a spirit trip
11 (Laffy Taffy Jokes): Why don’t birds follow directions? / They like to wing it.
12 (Nonsense Metaphor): The sky is a house with parking space for six cars. A worn-out memory is a snooker game.

-----------------

Edited to add: other bits and pieces of ideas that come to mind:

  • A poem about swing dance, in a meter to match a six- or eight-count rhythm (one-two three(four) five(six) / one-two three(four) five-six se'en(eight))
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Mon Apr 01, 2019 9:10 pm
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Cadi says...



#1

Monday nights
underground
warming up
getting down
Feel those light feet

Saying hi
shaking hands
maybe you'd
like to dance
Pick up that beat


Spoiler! :
Start as you mean to go on! This opening poem thrown together in the space between my swing dance class and my bedtime. I like the concept a lot, but I don't think I'm doing it justice here. Maybe I'll try it again next Monday?
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Tue Apr 02, 2019 10:17 pm
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Cadi says...



#2

me: curled on a cushion
and you: draped over me
time seeps by, dripping off the clock,
in ticks
of gentle
silence

me: the cat who's keeping watch and,
you: the one that sleeps
I run languorous fingers through your hair
and you melt into me
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Wed Apr 03, 2019 8:39 pm
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Cadi says...



#3

I spilt this,
the dense, dark foam sinking down the sky,
pooling on the horizon, a premature night.
I stand here,
knee-deep in thundercloud, drenched in haze,
trying to hold hailstones in cold-stiffened hands

and you,
beacon, desire, a blaze in the west,
rearrange the daylight.
You gild the roofline against the black,
cast light on shadows I didn't know I was hiding.

I'm going to say I'm okay, and you're not going to believe me.

Spoiler! :
Edit 2019-04-05: I want to rewrite that second verse, particularly the line about shadows. On the to-do list it goes!


2019-04-06 - Edits!

I spilt this,
the dense, dark foam sinking down the sky,
pooling on the horizon, a premature night.
I stand here,
knee-deep in thundercloud, drenched in haze,
trying to hold hailstones in cold-stiffened hands

and you,
beacon, desire, ablaze in the west,
will rearrange the daylight and the dark.
You gild the roofline against the storm,
cast light on shadows I hadn't thought to hide.

Listen:
I'm going to say I'm okay,
and you're not going to believe me.
Last edited by Cadi on Sat Apr 06, 2019 2:54 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Thu Apr 04, 2019 12:08 am
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fraey says...



Hi Cadi! ^^

All three of these poems are pretty cool, the first being short with the rhymes adding a nice element, the second is pretty cute, while the third has some really nice imagery, "rearrange the daylight" paints an interesting picture. Nice start to NaPo!
farewell, once, amidst a wave.
castle grounds consultant of the court
  





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Thu Apr 04, 2019 8:50 pm
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Cadi says...



Thank you, @fraey!

#4

Writing poems is harder when you're cross
and I don't really want to be cross right now
I'd just finished talking about how I feel good
when I came home and tripped into this daft row.

Spoiler! :

Pfffft. Petty disagreements about the taste of water.
Now I've written the poem, I guess I'm gonna go make the peace overtures.

I think this could use a second verse - perhaps about how it's the petty disagreements that can get so hard to apologise for - but not right now.
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Fri Apr 05, 2019 4:18 pm
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Cadi says...



#5

I was never very good at being a bird
(at leaning forward on the branch,
at falling,
at trusting my wings to work when I spread them)
and I'd like to tell you
how I learnt to fly
but I've only got better at walking.

Spoiler! :

You can actually thank Laffy Taffy Jokes for this one!

Ideas I liked but couldn't fit in:
* shoe-polish feathers and a crocus beak
* dawn chorus sung at 3am to the orange glow of a sleepless city
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Sat Apr 06, 2019 2:44 pm
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Cadi says...



#6

My windows are grey with a season's dirt,
dried-up shadows of droplets on a cloudy pane:
all that remains of those wind-driven
winter rains that battered the glass for days.
My bucket is grey, and my sponge is green
(though turning black); I drag hot bubbles
through the ghosts of rainwater past, carving
trains of gleaming silver in the stains.

My damp sleeves slide past my elbows;
I push them up again.
Crisp, new sunlight shines in the sky
and brightly through my windows.
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Sun Apr 07, 2019 5:40 am
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alliyah says...



Your take on the Laffy Taffy joke was so creative! And just imagining a determined little bird falling off a branch and then deciding walking was better, made me smile - even though the poem has a delicate balance of sad and optimistic I think.

Your poetry is succinct, and is able to craft these nice specific images.

Also this:
Listen:
I'm going to say I'm okay,
and you're not going to believe me.


Ah! That whole just poem hit me.

Looking forward to reading more poems from you.
but i don't think i can ever love someone
who doesn't understand that teal
is a different color than dark cyan.


  





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Sun Apr 07, 2019 2:34 pm
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Cadi says...



Thank you, @alliyah!

#7

Shoes crunch on gravel
Jeans brush on jeans
Paws squelch in mud
Collars jangle
Magpies croak
Children squeal
And
One ear keeps on ringing
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Mon Apr 08, 2019 9:02 pm
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Cadi says...



#8

It sure is rainy tonight!
Yes, and I forgot my umbrella.
Yes, and it was your favourite.
Yes, a gift from my aunt.
Your aunt who lives in Paris?
Yes - and look, here she comes...

Spoiler! :
I don't even know. I've been out late watching improv, that's all the excuse I've got.
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Tue Apr 09, 2019 8:44 pm
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Cadi says...



#9

"The good news is," he says, and that's when
my grip on my worry starts to slip;
the scrabbling starts beneath my ribs,
above a stomach already crushed with self-control.
"The good news is, everything we were looking for is fine,"
and that is good,
but hidden behind those words there's a
"but--"
and that's what's going to drag sobs along my throat,
send panic clawing up my chest,
wreck the focus of my eyes.
"But," he says, and I wish he wouldn't,
"there's something... incidental."

Spoiler! :
As ever: like the idea, not convinced I've given it time to do it justice. Another to rework.
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Wed Apr 10, 2019 9:00 pm
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Cadi says...



#10

Roses are red
Violets are blue
No matter the dream
I keep seeing you
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  





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Thu Apr 11, 2019 9:38 pm
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Cadi says...



#11

I've worn out this memory.
The faded baize is threadbare,
and when I set out the balls,
and cue up my shot,
they do not roll smoothly, but catch
on the rough edges of my favourite moments.

I've worn out this memory,
these 22 shining seconds,
but I keep coming back to it anyway.

Spoiler! :
Voilá! One poem based on a nonsense metaphor from the inspiration activity hunt! This was actually pretty fun to throw together :D
"The fact is, I don't know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn't collapse when you beat your head against it." --Douglas Adams
  








Work expands to fill the time available for its completion.
— C. Northcote Parkinson