NaPoWriMo22 Day 28 — Prompt from napowrimo.net: Write a shape poem. Perhaps not quite a shape poem, but it’s what I’ve got for today! I use canva.com for my graphic poems and upload them as images. It’s easier than trying to create something in Word. Peace to your ♥!
Your comments are music to my ears: Wonderful! Great poem! Well done! I want to add a D.C. al Fine to every one. And even if I’ve heard it all before, Would you mind composing more?
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem of over-the-top compliments. Since I’m not feeling expansive at the moment, I’m instead posting a visual poem I worked on yesterday [an audio description can be found here] and also including the link for an ode to summer I composed years ago for a contest. Written in the flowery language of a traditional ode, it fits the prompt pretty well, I think. Peace to your ♥ !
Serendipity! I woke up with an idea for a concrete poem, and the prompt for the day is to write a concrete poem. It’s another pandemic poem, though; I certainly didn’t think I would be writing so often about it. Peace to your ♥ ! [An audio description of this poem can be found here.]
NaPoWriMo20 Day 9 - Write a concrete poem. Thank you to Maureen Thorson at NaPoWriMo.net for the prompt.
Given that I love metapoems and wordplay, it was inevitable, I suppose, that I write a poem titled “Poet-tree,” but not inevitable that it look like a tree. I stumbled across another poem with the same title, and it had the standard left justification. Some poems, however, lend themselves to more creative formats. It’s a matter of feeling out the poem as it takes shape on the page and seeing if it wants to literally take shape. Once it has, shifting it back is like letting the air out of a tire–it’s still a tire, but now it’s flat.
This poem was my first to be published, in the Summer 2015 issue of The Caterpillar, a quirky Irish fiction/poetry/art magazine for children. Peace to your ♥ !
Sometimes when I feel quiet, I take a handful of adjectives I found on the ground, stick them to a noun I had stored in a drawer (some verbs knock at the door— I ignore them), and I make myself a poet-tree I can sit under, and I won- der the hours away.