Tag: dailyprompt

Day 11 The Painted Desert Glowed

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Courtesy of Stef Dunn Photography

Painted Desert Memory

The painted desert glowed rose red in the sunset

when we drove west &  you were so young

with your auburn hair.

Jacquelyn Markham (4/11/2024)

Today, Day 11 of the poem-a-day challenge in honor of National Poetry Month, 2024, we were encouraged by Napowrimo.net to write a one line poem: “our optional prompt for the day honors the “ones” in the number 11.”

Maureen Thorsen writes: “Today, we’d like to challenge you to write either a monostich, which is a one-line poem, or a poem made up of one-liner style jokes/sentiments.” This prompt sends us to Writer’s Digest where we find a different prompt and an example of monostich (a one line poem) by Robert Lee Brewer.

Regret

by Robert Lee Brewer

I hold a chip bag that only holds crumbs.

That’s a sad story, Robert, but I think mine is even sadder or at least nostalgic!

By the way, if you want to check out the prompts at Writer’s Digest, curated by Robert Lee Brewer, you can find them here:

Robert’s prompt for today is: “For today’s prompt, write a memory poem. The poem could conjure up an actual memory that you have from your childhood, or last week, or earlier this morning. Or the memory could be made up. Or the memory is just a starting point for a completely different poem. Your memories, your poems.”

I combined the two prompts for a one-liner memory poem.  Hope you like it!

Rainbow Warrior

Jacquelyn Markham, poet & writer, author of Rainbow Warrior, Finishing Line Press (2023), Peering Into the Iris: An Ancestral Journey and China Baby, among other titles.

Day 9   Ode to My Bluejeans

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Ahhh a little sleep and a whole new attitude as Day 9 of the poem-a-day challenge arrives. A little lighter in the vein of Pablo Neuruda’s “Ode to My Socks” (see prompt from Maureen Thorson by clicking here at Napowrimo.net or below).

Ode to My Bluejeans

some stretch in the bluejeans required

bluejeans must be rugged but with style

often worn bluejeans can usually be revived

with a twirl in the clothes dryer

bluejeans pulled on for a knock on the door

bluejeans for a stroll in the “back forty”

bluejeans with a hat & sunglasses

for a trip to the mailbox

bluejeans & boots for a serious trek

in the overgrown field

bluejeans & flip flops

for a quick trip to the store

bluejeans to plant

rootbound dianthus, viola, & dill

hang bluejeans on a hook for easy grabbing

until one day bluejeans demand

their turn in the washing machine

to retain their usefulness & for

a reward of almost new bluejeans

skip the dryer—except for the twirl

for minor touch up

blue jeans you are a loyal friend!

Jacquelyn Markham (4/9/2024)

Prompt:

“Our prompt for today (optional, as always) takes its inspiration from Pablo Neruda, the Chilean-born poet and Nobel Prize Winner. While he is most famous in the English-speaking world for his collection Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, he also wrote more than two hundred odes, and had a penchant for writing sometimes-long poems of appreciation for very common or mundane things. You can read . . .“Ode to My Socks” here, and “Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market” here.” (Napowrimo.net)

Jacquelyn Markham, poet & writer, author of Rainbow Warrior, Finishing Line Press (2023), Peering Into the Iris: An Ancestral Journey and China Baby, among other titles.

Day 7 Wish You Were Here

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at the shore – photo by poet J. Markham

wish you were here

after all I am solo

at the seaside grill on an island

a swirl of eclipse energy

wraps me up

in my thoughts of other times

but, hey, today is now & I’m alive

so wish you were here

to drink the chardonnay

to share the overflowing

crabcake benedict & grits

to cross the rivers

to meander the maritime forest

to find the path &

to walk the shore with me

wish you were here

Jacquelyn Markham (4/7/24)

photo by the poet

By the way, the prompt for today! Courtesy of Napowrimo.net

And last but not least, we’re taking it easy with today’s (optional) prompt. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem titled “Wish You Were Here” that takes its inspiration from the idea of a postcard. Consistent with the abbreviated format of a postcard, your poem should be short, and should play with the idea of travel, distance, or sightseeing. If you’re having trouble getting started, perhaps you’ll find some inspiration in these images of vintage postcards.

Day 6 Weird Wisdom

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“And now for our (optional) prompt from Napowrimo: “Today’s we’d like to challenge you to write a poem rooted in ‘weird wisdom,’ by which we mean something objectively odd that someone told you once, and that has stuck with you ever since.”

Oh, how I struggled with this prompt! Truth is, all that weird wisdom has stuck! So here’s the poem for day 6!

Bird singing in the morning!

The Staying Power of Weird Wisdom

The trunkful of weird wisdom  

that I learned as a child never emptied.

My mother rivalled a character in a Flannery O’Connor story

with her wealth of proverbs, warnings, and clichés.

Maybe I lacked a dress for the prom, or a hat for Easter,

or a book for school, but never a lack of weird wisdom.

Necessity is the mother of invention, (how many times did I hear?)

A leopard doesn’t change its spots.

A fool and her money . . .(yes a litany of these!),

a bird in the hand, a journey of a thousand miles. . .,

Oh, and “all that glitters isn’t gold!”

Beggars can’t be choosy, daughter.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, now!

How many times?

Don’t cross that bridge ‘til you come to it?

If wishes were horses, we would all take a ride,

young lady! But the weirdest wisdom

of all that puzzles me still:

“Sing before breakfast; cry before night.”

What? We should all sing like birds.

Sing to sunrise! Sing to the morning!

Sing to the new day!

Moral of the story:

Some wisdom is not only weird, but better left unsaid!

Jacquelyn Markham (4/6/2024)

Day 1 PAD 2024-plot poem

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Here we go, poets and poetry lovers! Day one of the poem-a-day challenge and National Poetry Month! So exciting! Read more about it here.

Prompt: Write, without consulting the book, a poem that recounts the plot, or some portion of the plot, of a novel that you like but haven’t read in a long time (compliments of NaPoWriMo)! My today’s effort below.

Ocean moon, photo by the poet

Edna & the Sea

When Edna left the shore &

plunged into the salty blue,

her body slid through breaking waves,

a silvery fish, sunlight flashing freedom.

When Edna left the shore behind

she lost everything—except herself.

When she left the shore, she found herself,

as solid as a whale, breathing air in bursts,

then diving deep, deep, deep into the azure sea.

When Edna returned to

her city home, everything she lost

was there—Victorian rooms, silver trays

with calling cards, tea sets, & callers at the door,

but where was she?

Edna felt the pull of the ocean,

slipped from the shallow talk & society,

she felt the waves wash her ankles,

a moment’s hesitation before the plunge,

like a fish freed from the hook,

frolicking in viridian sea, its escape barely seen.

Jacquelyn Markham 4/1/2024

This plot poem is inspired by Edna Pontellier in Kate Chopin’s The Awakening.  If  you haven’t read the book, you are missing a classic novel that reveals so much about the lives of women in the 19th century. And frankly, even into the 20th (and maybe even today for some women), Chopin’s words can evoke a “tower moment.”

Tower Card from Rider Waite deck

2024 Poem-a-Day begins!

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Good bye March. Hello April and National Poetry Month!

So, the early bird prompt came in and I will end March with beginning the April poem-a-day challenge (as every ending is truly a beginning).

Here is the early bird prompt from NaPoWriMo.

“Pick a word from the list below. Then write a poem titled either “A [your word]” or “The [your word]” in which you explore the meaning of the word, or some memory you have of it, as if you were writing an illustrative/alternative definition.” The list:

  • Cage
  • Ocean
  • Time
  • Cedar
  • Window
  • Sword
  • Flute

Of course, as a flutist, I certainly must select “flute”!

A flute

A flute coos blues

swallows air like a tuba.

In Galway’s hands, the flute shows off,

becomes a bumble bee!

A funky flute spits & hisses

like my tiger cat, hums

a deep rhythm like Yusef Lateef.

A flute sound in the woods

travels trees, accompanies

bird song. My flute

sends a silver melody

across the waves

an offering to the sea.

Jacquelyn Markham (3/31/24)

A flutist in an Easter bonnet!

Day 30   “The Return of Love: A palinode”    PAD 2023

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“Painting my heart out”–acrylic painting by the poet

My poem for Day 30, the final poem of poem-a-day challenge, reflects a retraction of my position on disappointment in love put forward in many poems, including “Hyena,” (day 5); “Sonnet on Love,” (day 9); “Affairs of the Heart: Claims & Warnings,” (Day 16); and “somewhere i travelled beyond good sense,” (Day 25). As I retract my position on love, instead of bitterness and disappointment, I will reverse some of the lines from these poems. Why am I doing changing my tune? I am responding to the prompt below and writing a “palinode.”

Maureen’s prompt: “write a palinode – a poem in which you retract a view or sentiment expressed in an earlier poem. For example, you might pick a poem you drafted earlier in the month and write a poem that contradicts or troubles it. This could be an interesting way to start working on a series of related poems. Alternatively, you could play around with the idea of a palinode by writing a poem in which the speaker says something like “I take it back” or otherwise abandons a prior position within the single poem.”

The Return of Love: a palinode

I waved goodbye from the closed car window,

laughing like a hyena, louder than the wheels

humming on the highway.  Then,

the highway turns toward home & you.

Words don’t fit like a puzzle, but

drop like a stone & your once warm

embrace turns chill until sun slips from

behind the cloud & it’s all bright gold.

I asked a fortune teller if  I should

continue this time.  She predicted

an affair of endless love.  

I must retract my earlier bitter words!

My sword-pierced heart flip flops. So, i

send him these words that e.e. shared

“your slightest look easily will unclose me

though I have closed myself as fingers.”

I whisper “rose is a rose is a rose” & shout

“How do I love thee, let me count the ways?”

            Jacquelyn Markham (4/30/2023)

Day 29 Pierogi Speaks to Babcia        PAD 2023

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Pierogi image courtesy of Kingarthurbaking.com

The prompt: “Start by reading Alberto Rios’s poem “Perfect for Any Occasion.” Now, write your own two-part poem that focuses on a food or type of meal. At some point in the poem, describe the food or meal as if it were a specific kind of person. Give the food/meal at least one line of spoken dialogue.”

In 2022, I was pleased to be featured by Maureen and Napowrimo with my poem “Kielbasa Speaks to the Vegetarian of Polish Descent,” so for this food poem, I wanted to stay with the Polish theme and Pierogis came to mind. Here’s what came out of my meditation on Pierogis! I wish I had some sizzling in butter right now!

Poem removed by Poet Voice for revision and publication elsewhere.

Day 28  Index poem    PAD 2023

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Before we delve into day 28, I want to say that I am so excited to have been selected as featured poet for Day 27 by Maureen, the matrixmind of the Napowrimo site for my “Yellow Celosia of Hope” poem. Thank you Maureen! So happy I have persevered and wrote the poem as well as planted my Celosia in the garden yesterday (I really did!)!

Now, I’ve written a slightly playful, fairly esoteric poem in response to day 28 prompt. I used the interesting index in my old poetry handbook from a time when books still had an extensive index, copyright 1940! For those who would like a definition of the term consonance, here’s one from the poetry foundation.  I include one snippet from my index that inspired me.

A consonance to death

Did the Daemon Lover have dactyl words and feet?

Oh, no, he was just a daffy-down-dilly!

Villon’s Des Dames du Tempts Jardis would

not have a thing to do with that dilly!

“I can understand that,” said the

Daughter of the North as she danced  away

to “Danty Baby Danty”!

No worries, the Earth Turn South

by morning, if we can make it

through the night despite Eidolons

lurking over the bed. Eidolons—

Eidolons? Eidolons! Is there

an echo in here? No, it’s only

the baby’s Echolalia.

Yes, a baby, no death,

perhaps a consonance to death

will do, bath, myth, broth

or sleuth will suffice!

No death, just truth, after all,

it’s the end of a perfect day!

            Jacquelyn Markham (4/28/2023)

Day 25 somewhere i travelled beyond good sense PAD 2023

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e.e. cummings, 1953

This poem, of all love poems, brought back a not so fine memory. Here’s the prompt and the e.e. cummings poem is below my original day 25 poem!

Napowrimo Prompt for day 25: “Begin by reading e e cummings’ poem [somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond]. This is a pretty classic love poem, so well-known that it has spawned at least one silly meme. Today’s prompt challenges you to also write a love poem, one that names at least one flower, contains one parenthetical statement, and in which at least some lines break in unusual places.”

somewhere i travelled beyond good sense

that rose like the “eyes deeper than all roses”

turned to a garlic or maybe worse,

a chestnut tree in bloom (have  you ever smelled it?)

in my naivete, i sent him–the scoundrel–these

lines in a letter, (little did i know):

“your slightest look

easily will unclose me/ though i have

closed myself as fingers”/i, too easily opened,

the experience, a rose turned garlic. Truly,

i cast e.e.cummings’ words before

swine. i apologize e.e. i didn’t know!

Jacquelyn Markham (4/25/2023)

link to this poem: https://poets.org/poem/somewhere-i-have-never-travelledgladly-beyond

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

E. E. Cummings – 1894-1962

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands