Half Wit Laces

running is stupid
the cold seeps deep
into the bones
it snows
a hundred miles
is a dumb idea
gut bombs bloat
blisters form
ultra-distance runs
are ultra-wrong
in shadow nights
visions stir
so run for fun
stay on roads
don’t let babies
set trail goals


Happy Monday. Welcome to Day 16 of the NaPoWriMo challenge. Today’s challenge is to write a poem that prominently features the idea of play. It could be a poem about a sport or game, a poem about people who play (or are playing a game), or even a poem in the form of the rules for a sport or game that you’ve just made up.
Having just completed Umstead 100 I’m reminded of the thoughts that stream through my head in the middle of the night at about mile 75. At those moments it’s challenging to remind myself that running is fun.

Lucy the Cat

Calling his order from the budding young trees
The CHEESE-bur-ger bird keeping spring company
With humming ones, the twitters, the shrills and the squawks
While Lucy the Cat lays in wait, appears not to watch
“Never mind me, I’m just laying here resting.
I don’t see you humming ones there buzzing and nesting.”
But they just can’t resist, shimmy this way and that,
saying, “Look at me! Look at me!” But Lucy the Cat
Well she turns a deaf ear
Pretending she can’t hear what she real does hear
The bees bumble by, and butterflies fly
And Lucy the Cat can’t help wonder why
A feline am I, a stalker at heart
This prey must soon know they’ll be served a la cart
And still the bees buzzing, the humming ones fuzzing,
The CHEESE-bur-ger bird and his twitter shrill cousin
Sing cacophony choir to a crescendo filled air
And Lucy the Cat lunges back right then and right there

It’s Day 16 of the NaPoWriMo challenge. Today the challenge was to fill out, in no more than five minutes, an “Almanac Questionnaire,” which solicits concrete details about a specific place (real or imagined). Then write a poem incorporating or based on one or more of the answers.
Well, my specific place was just outside my window where Lucy the Cat was lying on the back patio railing sunning herself and listening to the birds.

Away at Last

This is the day that I have designed
dressed in red leather boots to the knee
If ever, I ever ignore forecast signs

now be the time, the time to shine me
Forewarned, forgiven, fortuitous child
dressed in red leather boots to the knee

Weaving a way, spun curls spilling wild
Fresh ticket in hand, Fresh eyes on the door
Forewarned, forgiven, fortuitous child

Long winded cry of the wild outdoors
Educated voices muffle the call
Fresh ticket in hand, Fresh eyes on the door

Away at last, if I scrape if I crawl
to the mountains, the desert, the sea
Educated voices muffle the call

no longer stifle the spirit of me
to the mountains, the desert the sea
This is the day that I have designed
If ever I ever ignore forecast signs

Welcome back to Day 16 of the NaPoWriMo Challenge. Today’s challenge is to write in the form known as the terzanelle. Terzanelles consist of five three-line stanzas and a concluding quatrain. Lines and rhymes are chained throughout the poem, so that the middle line of each triplet is repeated as the last line of the following triplet (or, for the last triplet, in the concluding quatrain). The pattern goes like this:
fAFA or fFAA.

It’s funny for me how writing with structure often helps the creative process. My right and left brain both like working together.

Neighbors Bongo Mahalo

Awaken world lazing on gardens nearby
Young and old lock hands and come alive
Young eyes going past the keyway of my gala
Engaged in knowing the salsa the Zimbabwe way
Until they know no one else can see
Someone’s ukulele imbibing gentle sound
Was waiting nearby for the abundant dance
Going now bang, bang , boomba, booma,
No one’s banging drum is ever left alone