EXERCISE National Poetry Month 2016: April 9, 10

Discussion in 'INSPIRING MUSES' started by RiverNotch, Apr 10, 2016.

  1. Here are the two prompts, each 8 lines or more, with the same freedom-of-form. Again, one post per poem -- note which day yer poem is; and, being a month, try and catch up, any newcomers! but please, in their respective threads.

    April 9: Inspired by an occupation (ie, what do you wanna be when you grow up?)

    April 10: Write a negative poem -- a piece that defines something by what it is not. Best example, presented by the member just mercedes from the other forum, is a painting by Rene Magritte, "The Treachery of Images", spoilered below. The script translates to "This is not a pipe".
    La trahison des images (open)

    Credit where it's due; the idea and the prompts come from this site:
    Poetry Forum - - Post poetry, get feedback, give critique.
  2. April 9:


    One dusty hand reached out, caressed
    my cheek -- the other held
    offerings to be bought, gilded frames
    of some saints: Vasil fool, Sergei,
    and the painter-monk Andrei.

    This hooded figure also spoke
    in hazy voice -- and Russian. My guess:
    If only you could hear,
    far-hearted tourist, their complaints
    about this house of God turned pile of earth,
    iconostasis flushed by rain,
    and censer made bouquet,
    then how you'd weep! (or pay)
    as now I do.

    Back then, I wanted to become
    a doctor -- returning home, I laughed
    at the leprous spot below my eye.
    How young was I!
  3. April 10:


    I will not leave for Weathertown,
    will not Desire -- its spires,
    for though I like the weatherman,
    I've yet to catch -- his Lies.

    The TV and the radio,
    they never ride my wave --
    and when I search the web for rain,
    I always fail to save.

    And people -- though I took no vows,
    I comb the hermit's fill:
    my wilderness, a shuttered home,
    my hieromonk, a pill --

    for past the weatherman's vane charms,
    you chickens are a chore --
    aside from belts of blood and breast,
    this business is a bore.

    Or rather, how I dread romance --
    to Love is like a storm!
    and cities, hated opposite --
    great droughts -- past all alarm.

    No, I'll not leave for Weathertown,
    and treat the 'Self' -- applied,
    for Truth is not a gale without:
    I'd rather Live -- a child.
    #3 RiverNotch, Apr 10, 2016
    Last edited: Apr 10, 2016
  4. Apr 9

    A Tribute to Mother

    I thought I'd be an eagle,
    Flying through the sky,
    But my words my mother heard,
    And crushed my dreams to fly.

    I thought I'd be a tiger,
    Wearing stripes of black,
    But my words my mother heard,
    And swiftly brought me back.

    I thought I'd be a pirate,
    Sailing on a stormy, waving sea,
    But my words my mother heard,
    And snatched my ship from me.

    I thought I'd be a writer,
    To explore a dragon's den,
    And my words my mother heard,
    She handed me a pen.
  5. April 10 negative poem

    There are no stars to see
    There is no moon to guide
    No darkened shadows threatening
    No place to run and hide
    Nothing dark at all it seems
    Not one owl loudly hooting
    No bats squeaking as the hunt
    No hardships in finding footing
    No lack at all of light
    No it is not yet night