Posted tagged ‘ManicDDaily poetry’
April 17, 2010
On Plane (Forgot the Socks.)
A lot of traveling today and now I’m staying in a moldy, motel room. Agh. Sometimes when you are having trouble with inspiration, it’s best to turn to a traditional form like a sonnet. The form itself can help move you through the poem, getting you to something like completion. For more on the sonnet form, look in the poetry category from the ManicDDaily home page.
Flying
To be made love to in your head at thirty
thousand feet is a good way to relax,
at thirty thousand feet. Not truly flirty
or even dirty-minded; no attacks
on those around you, whose hands or chests or chins,
today, tend towards the pudgy in any case,
and, besides, are so pre-occupied with “in
flight entertainment” as to fully erase
your presence, as well as the close-up sky,
that dip of cloud and blue you’ve always loved, even so,
you don’t look either, but drift, as you fly,
through sinews, murmurs, even the after-glow
of a warmth that’s kindled only in your brain
(though you always wear wool socks upon a plane.)
Categories: poetry, writing exercises
Tags: 17th Day of National Poetry Month, elephant on plane, manicddaily, Manicddaily pencil drawing, ManicDDaily poetry, National Poetry Month, sonnet, sonnet re fantasies on air plane, sonnet re sexual fantasies
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 16, 2010
New Yorker In a Car (Outside of New York)
Unfortunately, this 16th day of National Poetry Month was so busy I had little time to focus on much poetic. A good day, in short, for draft limericks!
I’m sorry to say that the limericks I did (which connect as one longer poem draft) have a fairly limited subject matter; they describe that feeling of “going to seed” which may descend on vacation, particularly a family vacation, in which normal exercise and eating routines are put to the side; this feeling may be particularly pronounced in the case of the peripatetic New Yorker.
The limerick form is five lines, with a rhyme scheme that is typically: A, A, b, b, A; with the first, second and fifth rhyming lines longer than the truncated couplet of the third and fourth lines.
Traveling New Yorker
There was an old gal from New York
who watched what she put on her fork;
still, outside the confines
of the Four and Five lines,
she felt herself turning to pork.
The thing is that life in the City
made her walk through the nit and the gritty,
while, whenever afar,
she traveled by car,
quite bad for the hips, more’s the pity.
So she worried, this gal from Manhattan,
as she felt herself fatten and fatten–
too many fast treats–
too many cheap eats–
and just about all came au gratin.
Oh, for her home—twenty blocks to a mile;
twenty steps too, till the average turnstile.
Sure, there was soot,
but she’d breathe it on foot.
Once back, she’d stay put for a while.
Categories: elephants, New York City, poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: Elephant drawing, elephant driving car, explanation of limerick form, getting fat limericks, limerick form, manicddaily, ManicDdaily drawing, ManicDDaily poetry, National Poetry Month, New York City, New York City subway, New York limerick, poetry, Poetry exercise, traveling New Yorker limerick, writing exercise
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 15, 2010
Ah, Blue!
It’s the 15th day of National Poetry Month and also you know what. I started to write my daily draft poem about an idle tax day comment overheard at a Florida Starbucks, but then ended up working on a completely different draft poem, something a little closer to home.
Communion
What a gift it is to sit
with someone you love and not hear
about the body/blood, given/shed,
for your or anyone’s salvation,
redemption,
success/despair,
education, regeneration
in remembrance of.
What sweetness not to discuss
any house in any location,
great aunt or uncle,
small town or large,
teacher or outfit (with
or without peter pan collar,
ruffed cuff),
income or IQ;
patience so much more elusive than gratitude,
love task-like in its minutiae,
the sullenness of childhood a sharp stone
on memory lane.
Ah, the communion of the trivial shared right now,
the small square tile that bears a silent “e”,
the ace on the card table,
the deliciousness of breeze or scone.
I sit with my parents and paint.
Those who do not paint often
focus intently on
a carefully drawn petal or jagged blotch of sea.
Ah, blue; ah, green; ah, yellow.
Categories: parenting, poetry, writing exercises
Tags: 15th Day of National Poetry Month, Family communion poem, hanging out with parents poem, manicddaily, ManicDDaily poetry, ManicDDaily watercolor, National Poetry Month, painting poem, poetry, Poetry exercise, writing exercise
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 14, 2010
Blank Page and Sock
The 14th day of National Poetry Month, sigh. The draft sonnet I wrote today is intended to illustrate the principle that a poem can be written with no inspiration whatsoever! In other words, don’t wait for the muse.
The draft below follows the rhyme scheme of a Shakespearean sonnet; although I do keep to certain syllabic limits (approximately 10 or 11 syllables per line), I’m not sure that these exactly correspond to iambic pentameter. For more on sonnet structures, check here, (or check out the poetry category form the home page of this blog). For more on writer’s block, check out the writer’s block category.
Writer’s Block Sonnet
A blank page is not like a plain white sock.
It will do nothing for a cold foot at night,
and fits poorly into a shoe; you can’t tuck
your pants into it as part of a fight
against Lyme’s Disease; it won’t put you at ease
in any way; won’t cushion the impact
of concrete; won’t even give you release
from the itch of sand or pine needle, the tact
of the blank page so much less than the sock,
though also white and cheap and omnipresent.
The page won’t be worn quietly, it will talk
to you, it will talk at you; it will resent
any effort to shush its voice, cap its sound.
You won’t listen? Then, it will stare you down.
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized, writer's block, writing exercises
Tags: 14th day of National Poetry Month, don't wait for the muse, manicddaily, ManicDDaily poetry, ManicDDaily watercolor, silly sonnet, sonnet about blank page, watercolor of blank page and sock, writer's block sonnet, writing exercise
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 13, 2010
Hot Room in Air-Conditioned House
It’s the thirteenth day of National Poetry Month and I got up at 3:45 a.m. for a flight down to Florida. As a result, I’ve focused on short poems, haiku, for my drafts of the day. (For those of you who have not been following this blog, I am honoring National Poetry Month by writing a draft poem a day.)
A classic haiku is seventeen syllables – five in the first line; seven in the second line, and five again in the third line. Some people (who put content ahead of form) do not abide by these syllabic rules. Given that a haiku is traditionally written in Japanese, this could probably be justified. However, because I tend towards the formal more than the meaningful, I try to keep my haiku to the seventeen syllable format. (Note– title doesn’t count, so it’s a good way to slip in a few more syllables.)
So here are a few haiku, written both in New York, pre-dawn trip to Florida, and after. Please remember they are all drafts, and are intended to inspire you to your own efforts (which are bound to be as good.)
Killer Frost (in Fortune Cookie Style)
Premature blossoms
bear no fruit. Let buds knot wood
till truly their time.
Lack of Sleep As A Cure for Depression
I’m finding, of late,
the ebullience of no sleep.
Regret fades at two.
Florida
Porched concrete like the
forced march of Bermuda grass
fends off ant and file.
Symmetric
Two coconuts hang
like velour dice from a frond.
Is this all just luck?
Airless Room
The hot room in an
air-conditioned house: vacuum-
sealed, energy-proof.
Nap
Middle of the day
sleep, warm breath thick and soft as
flesh; some manage it.
Pre-blossom Branch
Categories: elephants, poetry, writing exercises
Tags: 13th Day of National Poetry Month, ant and file, Florida Haiku, haiku, haiku form explanation, haiku re sleeplessness as cure for depression, Haiku re warm nap, manicddaily, ManicDDaily haiku, Manicddaily pencil drawing, ManicDDaily poetry, ManicDDaily watercolor, National Poetry Month, pencil drawing of resting elephant, poetry exercises, watercolor of spring branch
Comments: 5 Comments
April 8, 2010
Furred Glasses (Underwater)
As followers of this blog may know, I made a commitment in honor of this April 2010 National Poetry Month to post a freshly-minted draft poem every day. I am cheating tonight and putting up an older draft poem, Villanelle to Glasses. This poem came to mind (and seemed to justify the cheating) due to the many kind and helpful comments I got about yesterday’s poem re sore eyes.
For instructions about how to write a villanelle, check out these prior posts on (i) how the assembly of a villanelle compares to banana pudding, and (ii) a specific breakdown of the form.
Villanelle to Glasses
Without glasses, the edges of my world are furred
like the ending of an echo, crush of shale.
Ideas are seen as if through water, blurred,
trooping muzzily through head, not shaped by word,
as if mind’s eye can’t make out thought’s detail
without glasses. As edges of my world are furred,
so too, I find, my verbal memory’s slurred:
I’ll say peach for onion, kite for sail;
ideas are seen as if through water, blurred,
and though I tell myself I’m quite absurd–
my mind’s still good; it’s only eyes that fail–
without glasses, the edges of my world are furred.
Even corrected vision’s not assured,
each type of lens its own peculiar jail,
where ideas are seen as if through water, blurred,
and I must make a choice between page or bird,
eternal grain of sand/horizon’s trail.
Without glasses, the edges of my world are furred:
ideas are seen as if through water, blurred.
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: can't think straight without my glasses poem, choosing between far-sightedness and near-sightedness poem, furred glasses (underwater), manicddaily, ManicDDaily poetry, ManicDdaily watercolor of glasses, National Poetry Month, villanelle, villanelle draft, villanelle form, Villanelle to Glasses
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 7, 2010
New Computer And Eye Issue
I’m afraid to say this seventh draft poem of National Poetry Month does not bode well.
New Computer
My new computer really hurts my eye.
It swirls, it’s quick, it does
a zillion tricks–sit up, play dead,
if I say “speak”, it speaks;
say “seek”, it finds; still it puts
me in a very pricey bind–
this new computer really hurts my eye.
But when I try to write things out by hand,
my fingers won’t quite prise
the pen, at least won’t prise
it well; even signing my own name
takes clumsy thought–
which is why I really need this new laptop.
Besides, it beams, how it beams–
which seems to be the problem–all those beams–
like staring at the sun, Louis Quatorze
Medusa, Yoda’s cave that held the Force.
All that glisters is not gold,
but this bright screen has now been sold
to me, oh my, right retina, goodbye,
this lovely new computer hurts my eye.
Categories: elephants, poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: computer poem, eyestrain poem, manicddaily, ManicDDaily poetry, ManicDDaily watercolor, National Poetry Month, new computer poem, painting of elephant eyestrain, Poetry exercise, watercolor of eyestrain, writing exercise
Comments: 8 Comments
April 5, 2010
Engagement (New Baghdad, July 12 2007)
Sad and horrifying video posted on Wikileaks.org about two Reuters employees (a photographer, Namir Noor-Eldeen, and his driver, Saeed Chmagh) killed in a raid by two Apache helicopters on an Iraqi neighborhood, New Baghdad. It’s a video that makes one really very very sad for all involved.
In keeping with my National Poetry Month commitment, here’s a poem draft for the day; sorry that it doesn’t really do justice to its subject.
Engaged (New Baghdad, July 12, 2007)
Static static beep beep.
Static.
Cross crosses blurred grey screen.
“There’s more that keep walking by and one of them
has a weapon.” (Camera.)
“Look at all those people.”
“Fucking prick.”
“There’s a weapon.” (Camera)
“Five or six with AK47s.”
The men on the screen, as grainy as the dust at their feet,
walk without concern, awareness,
right through the crossed sight, some together, some not;
two hold dark bags (cameras); two more, it seems, do hold something long,
rifle-like, points down.
“Request permission to engage.”
“Roger that.”
“Keep shoot’n…
keep shoot’n….
keep shoot’n.”
“We’ve just engaged eight individuals.”
“Dead Bastards.”
“Nice….
Nice.”
“Good shoot’n.”
“Thank you.”
Static.
“One individual appears to be wounded, crawlin’ away.”
Static.
“Come on Buddy. All you gotta do is pick up a weapon.”
Categories: news, poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: Fifth Day of National Poetry Month, July 12 2007 New Baghdad, manicddaily, ManicDdaily drawing of gun sight, Manicddaily pencil drawing and watercolor, ManicDDaily poetry, Namir Noor-Eldeen, poem about war casualties, Poetry exercise, Reuters employees killed by Apache helicopters, Saeed Chmagh, Wikileak.org
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 3, 2010
Dog Breath With Sandalwood Bracelet
The Way to Hold an Old Dog Close
The way to hold an old dog close is
to wear a sandalwood bracelet,
the beads of unburned incense almost inoculating you
from the yawns of decayed ivory.
You tell yourself, as you carry the dog down
stairs too steep for her to manage
(which means any stairs)
that they do make beef-flavored toothpaste,
but now the dog’s fifteen and you only bought one
tube ever, used once.
The thing is
that dogs are not actually children, and though she never snapped,
she would also not be coerced; your words, your mimed example,
did not influence. (You’ve never seen, for example, a dog pushing a
toy baby carriage, or even pulling a wooden pup upon a string.)
But a sandalwood bracelet, on the other hand,
on the arm rather, the arm that
that cradles the old dog’s head,
as you make your ways downstairs,
may just do the trick.
Categories: poetry, Uncategorized, writing exercises
Tags: dog poem, manicddaily, ManicDDaily dog drawing, ManicDDaily poetry, National Poetry Month, old dog poem, Poetry exercise, smell of sandalwood, Third Day of National Poetry Month
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 2, 2010
Silver Slipper
Today, tried a pantoum. The great thing about a pantoum (a form of repeating lines) is that you don’t need to come up with so many new lines. ( For instructions on the form, check here.)
Remember, this is a draft a day! A Draft! (And the point is for you to try too.)
(Please note that in my poetry, pauses come only with punctuation–commas, or periods–and not at line breaks.)
Last Anniversary Party
She walked that night on the side
edges of silver slippers.
Her smile stretched movie-star wide
above sored feet that moved like flippers.
The edges of silver slippers,
gathering, elasticized
around sored feet that moved like flippers
as their slow, held, waltz defined
our gathering; elasticized
the sweet stretched around the bitter
that their slow, held, waltz defined.
We were her husband, her too, who fitted
that sweet, stretched around the bitter,
to make it last, while we each tried
to be her husband, her too, as they fitted
loss with all that sparkled fine
to make it last, while we each tried
a smile stretched movie-star wide,
at loss, at all that sparkled fine.
She walked that night still on this side.
Categories: poetry, writing exercises
Tags: cancer poem, draft poetry, drawing of slipper, manicddaily, Manicddaily pencil drawing, ManicDDaily poetry, National Poetry Month, pantoum, poetry exercises, poetry month
Comments: Be the first to comment
ManicDDaily 
Recent Comments