#novpad - Day 20

He passed out a pack of post-it notes with "best day"written on them. We were supposed to use them sparringly because they had to last a lifetime. I had only used seven before someone stole my best days from me, and now my days were okay, fair, or mediocre, but never bad. I had forgotten what it felt like to have a best day so I couldn't tell the difference.

* * * * * * *

The prompt was to write a "best day ever" poem.

A bit of good news.

One of my poems was nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

*waits*

Yes, I was very surprised myself, but it's true -----> http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/specter+magazine

No need to Google what Pushcart is, I did it for you -----> http://www.pushcartprize.com/index.htm

It's nice to get good news. Thank you Specter Magazine for letting my poems live with you.

*side note*

The bit of bad news is that the poems I sent to Little Patuxent Review were rejected, however this nomination makes the rejection fade into oblivion.

#novpad - Day 19

The grass bore the weight
of the wind, but could not stand straight in the summer.

* * * * * * *

I tried to do the prompt, but it didn't work.

#novpad - Day 18

she's so familiar
like an orange dawn, but younger
smile still visible.
holding hands with Yesterday
comforts me without growth.

* * * * * * *

The prompt was to write a "too late" poem.

#novpad - Day 17

sitting at her writer’s desk. or maybe she is on the porch. or at a park in Brooklyn with her laptop trying to write. staring at a blank page. or a white computer screen, the cursor blinking, daring her to move. she doesn't even have a full idea but she knows the name of her next character. no outline. no arc. no antagonist. not even a fancy epigraph to start the story. nothing. no book cover. no new author photo yet. no second or twenty second draft, no input from the editor yet. no awards yet or school visits. just the white screen, and the cursors empty pulse. what if she can't do it again. what if that last book was the last book?


maybe she closes the laptop and walks home, stops in the kitchen for coffee. and while stirring in half & half she sees the bookshelf. the bookshelf that she keeps for moments like this. the bookshelf that has all of the books that she has already written. the books she has already written can fill one whole row. a whole row. she sits back down and writes. she knows that she can write another sentence. and so she does.

* * * * *
 
The prompt was to reveal something.

#novpad - Day 16

Once Upon a Quest
(for Skyrim)

Finish
even if you die a few times.
Save often.
Bring plenty of health potions.
Bring more.
Use a walkthrough if you get stuck.

#novpad - Day 15

Looking
out the window
varying shades of grey
everywhere. I shut the blinds.

#novpad - Day 14

Do not eat this poem
it's spoiled
it's undercooked
it has freezer burn

Do not eat this poem
it lacks flavor
it fell on the floor
it's burnt on the bottom

Do not eat this poem
it has saturated fats
it has artificial flavors
it has high fructose corn syrup

Do not eat this poem
it's no good.

#novpad - Day 13

The night was unkind
after a fight. Only the
toothbrushes would touch.

#novpad - Day 12

Basket full of food, beauty products, and supplementary clothes, like panties and socks. The lady ahead talks through the cashier girl's lack of interest. She scans every item without words or eye contact, but her body says I don't want to be here. Her body says why did you bring $178.52 worth of stuff to my line. Her body says what her mouth won't and I wonder where she wants to be instead.

* * * * *
The prompt was to write about something in excess. Maybe you can see how I followed it, maybe you can't.

#novpad - Day 11

RPG Senryu

Skyrim, can I at
least have five minutes away
from you to go pee?

#novpad - Day 10

Skyrim is here, it's an RPG game
been waiting for weeks, I'm ready to play
if I don't leave the house, she's to blame
Skyrim is here, it's an RPG game
it's true, I'm a gamer, I have no shame
since I was young, my nerd is here to stay
Skyrim is here, it's an RPG game
been waiting for weeks, I'm ready to play

* * * * *

I didn't follow the prompt, even though I had every intention to do so.  The triolet may have thrown me off.

#novpad - Day 9

Real or Imagined

Muse, I don't know if you are real or imagined. I keep you alive anyway.

I keep you because I like to imagine Toni Morrison sitting down at a typewriter, writing The Bluest Eye with you nearby stirring tea, needing a second draft only to fix minor grammar mistakes, like comma splices and verb tense.

#novpad - Day 8

#novpad - Day 7

Can't Wait for a Pillow

My eyes conspire
against me. Caffeine, sugar, and
sun fail to appease.

#novpad - Day 6

Cupcake Addiction

Buttercream icing
is how the addiction starts
inhaling only
pinkie finger extended
for licks, opens the gateway

* * * * * *

The prompt for day six was to write an addiction poem.

#novpad - Day 5

Broken Poem

This poem isn't broken
because it's blue
it isn't broken
because it's sad

it isn't broken
because you were untrue
it isn't broken
because it has flab

This poem doesn't know
what to do
and the not knowing
makes this poem sag.

#novpad - Day 4

Ten Dollar Bill

It's no longer crisp
crushed
but clean
still worth the same
somehow seems special
when you find it
stuffed in your jeans
after a wash.

#novpad - Day 3

Technically it's day four, but maybe this poem will explain why I couldn't write it yesterday.
*****
Sorta of like chitterlings

Squeeze and release
squeeze and release
the poison travels

Clammy skin replaced by burning
Sitting, sleeping, sleeping, sleeping

Sorta feels like my intestines are being prepared for the holiday dinner

#novpad - Day 2

Information Sickness


“In tough times, a librarian is a terrible thing to waste.” –Marilyn Johnson

Disoriented by the blood and the sound of bookshelves breaking. It was the need to touch everything around me, to know, but the knowing was too much. Ideas clawed at my lips, closed my eyes, and I slept bruxing details and teeth.

*****

The prompt was to write a poem that started with an epigraph.  I took this quote from a book I'm reading by Marilyn Johnson called This Book is Overdue!

#novpad - Day 1

Today is the first day of November Poem-a-day which is hosted by @RobertLeeBrewer over at Writer's Digest.  Each day a different writing prompt is given (and two on Tuesday) that poets tackle and share with each other on his page, on Twitter, or on blogs.

So the prompt is to "write a procrastination" or a "proactive" poem.

Since the day is almost over, I'll write the procrastination one.

* * * * *

I don’t know why I waited all day
it’s not like I don’t have anything to do
should complete my work first and then play
I don’t know why I waited all day
sunlight has gone, I need it to stay
foot by foot walking the path, stay true
I don’t know why I waited all day
it’s not like I don’t have anything to do