Hors d’Oeuvres

They’re fine for soirées,
Say, or garden fêtes.

Fancy tidbits—"Ah!
Foie gras! Escargot!"

I host cookouts where
There’s horseshoes and beer,

Not bands and liqueur.
You’re more apt to hear,

“Oh, man! I love these
Cheese and bacon things!”

NaPoWriMo24 day 26 – prompt from the around-the-world-poetry scavenger hunt at A Different Perspective, to write a Raay (or Rai, from Thailand). Having written this poem, I’m slightly more confident in my ability to spell hors d’oeuvres (at least in knowing where the apostrophe goes–I misspelled the second half of the word as I typed this). The poem below is from NaPoWriMo19. The prompt was to write a poem that incorporates the argot of a particular profession or job as a metaphor that drives the poem. Peace to your!

Blue-Plate Special
 
I hoped you might dine on poetry fine,
Something à la Wolfgang Puck;
Did my mise en place but made no progress;
I’m sorry, you’re out of luck.

I need to 86 all the chef’s picks,
The foie gras and the soufflé,
‘Cuz I’m slinging hash (care for succotash?),
Composing like Rachel Ray.

---
blue-plate special: a low-priced meal that usually changes daily
mise en place: “everything in its place,” referring to the set-up of the ingredients needed for the dishes on the menu
86: to remove an item from the menu because the kitchen is out of it
slinging hash: serving food in a cheap restaurant

Somewhere There’s a Place for US

I’d like to sail across the sea
In search of a democracy

Where politics as usual
Isn’t the same as void-and-null.

Where seeking first the common good
Isn’t veneer but solid wood

And every day’s joint session ends
With all the parties shaking hands.

For here the middle finger rules.
Too gladly do we suffer fools.

NaPoWriMo24 day 25 – prompt from the around-the-world-poetry scavenger hunt at A Different Perspective, to write Knittelvers, a form from Germany that was often satirical, comical or vulgar and was effective in political satire and parodies. I’ve lifted (and tweaked) my title from one of the songs in the musical West Side Story, which sets Romeo and Juliet in mid-1950s Manhattan. The title of the poem below was what prompted me to choose it as an appropriate poem for today’s extra. The NaPoWriMo17 prompt was to write a poem inspired by, or in the form of, a recipe. Peace to your!

Recipe for Disaster 

A brother yelling “Faster!”
As his sister tries to master
Her fear of biking down a long, steep hill;

The brother, quickly passing,
Turning ‘round and sassing,
“Slowpoke!”— 
	 Just before he takes a nasty spill.

Biolets from the Portuguese

NaPoWriMo24 day 24 – prompt from the around-the-world-poetry scavenger hunt at A Different Perspective, to write a biolet, a Portuguese verse form. I seem to be copping out a lot by writing poems about the poetic forms themselves. Oh well.

Biolets from the Portuguese

Elizabeth Barrett Browning penned
The Sonnets from the Portuguese.
Ah! Love poems! What about these 
Biolets of mine? Do they transcend
The Sonnets from the Portuguese
Elizabeth Barrett Browning penned? 
Significant Others

To you, my one-and-only Bess,
I dedicate this biolet.
(I wrote one once for Violet.
And also Flo—but I digress.)
I dedicate this biolet
To you, my one-and-only Bess. 
Disappointment

It was a major dis. 
She was a poet.
I wrote her a biolet.
She said, “What’s this?”
She was a poet!
It was a major dis.

For a different kind of dis (my dissatisfaction with survey forms), I offer the NaPoWriMo17 poem below. The prompt was to write a poem that incorporates neologisms (made-up words). Peace to your!

Satisfraction

I lied.
I was “satisfied”
But knew if I selected Box 3,
The next question would be,
What can we do to make you choose “highly”?

It’s only fitting,
If your survey insists on hair-splitting,
I tweak my honest reaction
A fraction.

Come Hell or High Water

I won’t wait.
Ma may meddle and Pa preach,
But it’s my future, our fate.

What’s a war
When two are one? Grace given,
The bond’s stronger than before.

Time will tell.
I’m not naïve. I may learn
That I’ve loved, not long, but well.

Don’t, daughter!
I do! Till death do us part.
And come hell or high water.

NaPoWriMo24 day 23 – prompt from the around-the-world-poetry scavenger hunt at A Different Perspective, to write a treochair, a verse form from Ireland in which substantial alliteration is expected. Today’s companion poem is from NaPoWriMo17. The prompt was to write a poem that explicitly includes alliteration and assonance. Peace to your!

If I Had a Palace in Paris

If I had a palace in Paris
Instead of a house in New York,
I would promenade with a pedigreed poodle
And eat petit fours with a small silver fork.

If I had a palace in Paris
Instead of the house that I do,
I would flash diamond rings on all of my fingers
And flaunt pink flamingos in my personal zoo. 

If I had a palace in Paris
Instead of this house that I love,
I would wear gold-sequined gowns to elegant galas
And wipe away tears with a golden silk glove.

Inspiration / Essential Gear for the Aspiring Writer

NaPoWriMo24 day 22 – a good day to post two new poems, each inspired by a quote from my quote notebook. The first poem fulfills a prompt from the around-the-world-poetry scavenger hunt at A Different Perspective, to write a Tripadi (Bangladesh).

Inspiration

When inspiration does not come to me,
I go halfway to meet it. –Sigmund Freud

But not rushing. Teacup in hand,
humming softly to yourself, and
pausing frequently to touch a flower.

Pacing yourself. Where halfway lies 
is half surmise and half surprise.
You may wander a week, a day, an hour.

Wondering at all that’s around:
The sights, the sounds from sky to ground. 
Aha may be found in a passing thought.

A moment comes when, looking up,
You discover tea in your cup
and hurry home to drink it while it’s hot.
Essential Gear for the Aspiring Writer

When the writer gets to the mainland,
nobody asks how they got there […] Who 
cares if you got there on the Titanic, or
you paddled with a boat, or you jumped
from lily pad to lily pad? You got to the
mainland, and that’s what counts.
–James McBride

dolphins for a playful nudge
scuba gear for a deeper theme
rowboat for times you can get there
under your own steam

paddleboard when you’re working solo
water skis when you’re part of a team
towboat for times when you feel like 
you’re heading upstream

cannon, but only if the mainland’s near
magic carpet (only in your dreams!)
and for times you’re walking on water,
shoes with waterproof seams

The outdoors is always inspiring. The poem below is from NaPoWriMo16, when the prompt was to write a poem that begins with a line from another poem but then goes elsewhere with it. Peace to your!

What Are You Waiting For?
(opening line from Jane Kenyon’s “At a Motel near O’Hare Airport,” Collected Poems)

I sit by the window all morning
and why not?

The kitchen floor, spattered more
than I care to admit, 
shouts MOP ME.

Clothes I need for tomorrow—
I’m down to my last pair of underwear—
beg to be washed.

A lengthy to-do list beckons
in black and white.

When the phone rings, I cover my ears
like a small child chanting
I can’t hear you.

I sit by the window all morning
listening to the symphony
beyond the glass.

Every day the tickets are free.
Today I decided to claim 
my front-row seat.

What are you waiting for?

NaPoWriMo16 Day 25 – Write a poem that begins with a line from another poem but then goes elsewhere with it.

4-Way Stop

A choreography of cars,
that’s what these intersections are.
A traffic dance.
It’s unrehearsed, and still all know
the steps: the slow advance, the go-
stop-go. Those caught up in the flow
await their chance.

NaPoWriMo day 21 – prompt from the around-the-world-poetry scavenger hunt at A Different Perspective, to write a Burns stanza (Scotland – I used the alternate form). From dancing to sneaking around, here’s a poem from NaPoWriMo18. The prompt was to write a poem based on a secret shame or pleasure. Peace to your!

In the Footsteps of Sacagawea

The challenge is 
to sneak the snack,
fingers fine-tuned, 
rustle-wary,
feet creak-conscious, 
soft-soled, 
to foil the following
of the sharp-eared 
snack-attack tracker.

Prompt 29. Pantoum

A pantoum sounds good to me,
And I’d write one immediately
Were it not for a sudden malaise.
Hm, it’s a Malaysian form, I see.

One can’t tell with prompt delays;
It might go on for days and days,
Likely even into May. So what.
Who needs pantoums anyways?

And now for an uplifting thought.
Despite not feeling so hot to trot,
I’ve still written a poem for Muri:
The Persian Interlocking Rubaiyat.

NaPoWriMo24 day 20 – prompt from the around-the-world-poetry scavenger hunt hosted by Muri at A Different Perspective, to write an Interlocking Rubaiyat. The pantoum daunts me. The fact that I don’t plan on writing one is the connection to the poem below from NaPoWriMo19. The prompt was to write a poem inspired by a reference book. Madame Pompadour was Louis XV’s lover, and the pompadour hairstyle is named after her. Her entry was on the dictionary page I opened to. Peace to your!

Dos and Don’ts
 
Madame Pompadour daily wore
Her hair swept up from her forehead.
When all was done, it weighed a ton
And gave her, oh, such a sore head.
Louis the king knew just the thing.
He joked, “Why, off with your poor head!”
A rash remark, said on a lark,
Which Madame rightly ignor-ed.

Swoon Song

what haunts my days, what hunts me in my dreams – my heart is a volcano 
in the June-time, under a hoopah tree, that only the new moon saw
first a fierce heat, second a piercing red, third a wrenching and rupture –
in the moon-mist, beside the hoopah tree, I cool my toes in the stream

NaPoWriMo24 day 19 – prompt from napowrimo.net, to write a poem that responds to the question, What are you haunted by, or what haunts you?, then change the word haunt to hunt. I wrote this strange poem yesterday (I was in a strange mood, I guess) for a prompt from the poetry scavenger hunt hosted at A Different Perspective, to write a Sekar ageng, a verse form from Java that is traditionally a recited song. I revised the first line for the napowrimo prompt.

And since it’s a strange poem, I’ll add to the strangeness with this NaPoWriMo19 poem, when the prompt was to write a poem that incorporates surreal, wild images, that doesn’t make formal sense but that engages all the senses and involves dream-logic. Peace to your!

Lamentation
 
Hush, hush. The greenwillows are weeping again,
Weeping for lost Lindolito.
      
The key by the sour-moon tree the speckled loon stole. 
Do you hear? The key the speckled loon dropped into the lemon sea. 
Oh! The salt and the sour! Who will weep for Lindolito now?
He walks with the crooked snake.

The moon has gone missing. Do you hear? 
Bitter herbs grow by the tooth of the hound.
Oh! The bitter and the sharp! Poor Lindolito with his crooked hip.
Who will weep for the moon?

The river that divides the ocean in two. Do you hear?
Who will cross it in half? Not Lindolito with his bent back.
Not the moon, hidden in the shadow of the sun.
There will be tears. Oh, the tears! The sour, salty, bitter tears!
They have bitten the moon.

Do you remember the key? The key the speckled loon stole?
The greenwillows are weeping, searching the sea with their green arms.
Poor Lindolito with the crossed eyes and the forked tongue.
Poor, poor moon, bleeding into the lemon sea.

Confessional

I looked out a window I hadn’t before
And saw, on a field across the way, shadows,
Wave after wave, rolling to a tree-lined shore.
It was revelation, as though the windows
Of my eyes had been long-shuttered, but no more.
When my turn for the sacrament came, I chose
To study the priest’s face, a man I know well.
At least I thought so once. Now I cannot tell.

NaPoWriMo24 day 19 – prompt from A Different Perspective’s poetry scavenger hunt, to write an ottava rima. This is one of six poems I wrote between conferences while on retreat this past weekend, making it a fruitful retreat, though not in the way one usually expects. Confession, also known as the sacrament of reconciliation, is one of the seven sacraments of the Catholic Church. My extra poem today, which also involves looking out windows, is from NaPoWriMo18. The prompt was to write a poem that plays with the myth of Narcissus. Peace to your!

Screenager
a term used in Bookworms by Laura Furman & Elinore Standard 

I see you shift the screen
trying to find the angle
that erases the reflection.

A screen is a bit like
a mirror; a mirror, a bit like
an echo, don’t you think?

Do you think, as you scroll 
through posts of others’ posts 
of others’ posts,

you will find anything to say
about the daffodils blooming
outside the window 

or how you see yourself
when I ask you to put down
the phone and come look?

¡Hola, Momola!

Hello, my darling Kate-patate!
One month, and your freshman year’s done.
Let’s get you back to Pittsburgh, hon,
And put out the Celebrate plate!

Momola, I can hardly wait!
Only a month—it feels like three!
More and more, home’s calling to me.
On move-out day, I’ll likely cry 
Leaving St. Joe’s, and you know why:
All my pent-up longing set free.

NaPoWriMo24 day 18 – prompt from the around-the-world-poetry scavenger hunt hosted by A Different Perspective, to write an espinela. Kate, my third daughter, is attending college in Philadelphia, five-plus hours away. Homesickness has been a lingering thing for her. She’s majoring in linguistics (the word-nerd gene runs in the family) and minoring in Spanish. I don’t know how “Momola” first came about, but I love to hear her call me that, and when she said one day, “¡Hola, Momola!” I knew there was a poem there somewhere. Peace to your!