The Writer is Doing the Writing

I may break three rules when I write a piece, I try never to break another rule after that because that is simply sloppy work.

I had to determine how to do the writing task and to go beyond sounding like I was doing a school assignment.

A certain amount of freedom is taken so I may find my way of expression that still makes some sense to the reader and to me.

Then I must do the work. Being afraid of making a mistake is the biggest mistake I ever made.

Use mistakes for fuel to write better with the authentic you in the sentences, put yourself in there with something transformative to say.

c. Lemuel

09 June 2018

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Rabbits in Snow, a Gogyohka

 

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Rabbits roam

snow in fields newly

green share dandelion profusion

glow yet sun melts away

cowslips gather ice.

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© Lemuel

16 April, 2018

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Notes

Gogyohka Poetic Form

  • This poetic form was conceived by Enta Kusakabe. Gogyohka means “five-line poem” in Japanese. It’s related to the tanka form.
  • This form was developed during the mid-twentieth century.
  • The Gogyohka has very simple rules: The poem is comprised of five lines with one phrase per line.

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NaPoWriMo 2018

#NaPoWriMo2018

Thank you Enta Kusakabe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Virus Attacks, a Cascade Poem

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They hacked, and they coughed, and they sniffled

poor Ann was caught square in the middle

with a temperature over ninety-eight point one

and fever, the chills, and aches down to the bone.

 

Ann got shots and sprayed loads disinfectants

took vitamins to ward off wayward infections

along with rigorous work-outs at the gym where

they hacked, and they coughed, and they sniffled.

 

She blitzed every bug and disease and infection

with clean eating and sanitizing perfection

if magnets may work she’d employ them but

poor Ann was caught square in the middle.

 

Then, that night Ann began to feel quite queasy

endless coughing, hacking, and loud sneezing

her tissues gave out, the last aspirin was gone,

with a temperature over ninety-eight point one.

 

Ann sees the world though blurred weepy pink eyes

so she called in “sick”, but her boss gave her a surprise

Can she take five or six conference calls at home?

and fever, the chills, and aches down to the bone.

 

©Lemuel

15 April, 2018

 

NaPoWriMo 2018

#NaPoWriMo2018

National Poetry Writing Month 2018

 

Notes

Cascade poetic form

A form invented by Udit Bhatia. I’d like to find out more about the poet. In Cascade poems the poet uses each line from the first stanza of a poem and echoes those lines in the final lines of each stanza afterward. Beyond that, there are no additional rules for much else poem-wise.

I made a poem with four lines. At first the lines just sat on the page. After a little while it worked out (I think, maybe, not so much.) Some claim a rhyming pattern of (ABC deA fgB hiC ) after saying there is not a rhyming pattern. My poem has rhyming. I get it.

 

 

 

 

 

NaPoWriMo 2018, My View

NaPoWriMo 2018 banner 2

 

I make poems and I love a good story.

As with many writing-type people I like to start crafting a poem with an idea, a feeling, or even a title. I truly appreciate the writing prompts or the suggestions being the sort that makes a shared challenge all the more enjoyable. Knowing others are struggling with or breezing through the daily prompt or challenge makes me smile inwardly somehow.

If it is competition, then it’s the good kind; that brings out the best I can make; the funniest, the most somber, the largest word discard pile ever, maybe, even doggerel all of which I have produced with pixel, pencil, and pen.

The number one reason for my first time at participating in NaPoWriMo is learning something new. So, my own challenge is to practice a new or different poetic form with each poem of the month—I don’t think I’ll run out by day thirty. That’s my personal goal for National Poetry Writing Month 2018. I am knocked out by such a great idea like this annual ‘get-together’ to focus on a form of communication as old as civilization, perhaps much, much older.

Ancient cave paintings I think were our first cinemas. Dark places where a little light means so much, sequestered in mystery, how many stories were told there in the flickering lights, moving depictions, imagination sparked from real-life actions, or dreams hoped for etched and painted on magical walls.

We supply the emotion. The poems are our launch pads our magical walls. The prompts offer words and the poets distill them to their essence.

The word-pictures tell about our world, poems release us from the mundane or help us to see it in a new light, or even cast a shadow for contrast and new interest.

When we sleep at night we swim in a shared ocean and watch the cinema of the human mind, both deep immersion.

 

© Lemuel

14 April, 2018

#NationalPoetryWritingMonth2018

#NaPoWriMo2018

http://www.napowrimo.net/

 

 

4 a.m. Sharp Saxophone Solo

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4 a.m. Sharp Saxophone Solo

 

That morning at 4 a.m. sharp my neighbor

across the alley on the sixth floor played

his saxophone on the fire escape. Mournful,

inventive; soothed the hung-over blues,

smoothed the pre-coffee fog

morning serenade “Equinox”.

I cannot sleep through that jazz saxophone solo.

I hit the bed early, set my clock for 3:45 a.m. Awake

in the darkness I made coffee, put on my funky robe.

I think everyone alley-side did the same. Took up

our perches for some notes to tickle our ear-holes.

It was like anticipating Christmas, butterflies and

prickles electric on my skin melodious saxophone

plays, “Billie’s Bounce”, energized my day. People

talked in the stairs and on the sidewalk for months.

I cannot sleep through that jazz saxophone solo.

“Break those keys, man”, he was hot coffee in my mug,

slippers picking out steps, fuzzy robe floats, me ready to face my day.

The clock reads 4:05 a.m. and all I hear is sirens, car horns,

all I see is people in their windows, on the fire escapes —  no tunes, “Did he move?”

I caught up with the sax man, “Ah, man, I got a second job.”

“Please, just a little more” early morning rapture, but there was no more sweetness.

I cannot sleep (he’s) through (with) that jazz saxophone solo.

Lemuel

2018

3 April 2018

NaPoWriMo 2018

Notes

Bop poetic form

  • 3 stanzas followed by a refrain
  • stanza 1 is 6 lines long and outlines a problem
  • stanza 2 is 8 lines long and expands the problem further
  • stanza 3 is 6 lines long and either gives a solution to the problem or records the failed attempt to resolve the problem

Thank you Afaa Michael Weaver.