NaPoWriMo: Days 19 and 20

Writing A Poem

The poem future constantly changes

as you write, constantly thinking

of connections

and conjunctions,

the future

is fluid.

Who Took My Cheese?

Who took my cheese? I put it

right here

for later, tasty tangy tidbit,

a taste to anticipate.

Lost: cheddar cheese;

aged two years, wrapped

in an oaken embrace

until

it’s silky, satiny, cream-colored

and smooth

as milk, like the hide

of a unicorn, except

less gross.

Every bite

of creamy goodness

was like a moment of brief heaven,

sweet-salty-savory

surprises

that were so familiar to me

with every bite.

I had sought

to extend the euphoria

by leaving it here,

safe

from temptation.

Now my hopes

for that coveted revisit

to paradise, but upon my return

I find

the memory of screams

as it was torn

from its proper position

and spirited away

to an unknown location,

most likely

the trash can.

How could you do such a thing

to me, let alone

that poor cheese?! Thrown

into a garbage heap with smelly socks,

diapers

and orange rinds;

such perfection

doesn’t deserve such a fate!

I shall go into withdrawal

from lack of cheese, no,

too late to fix

your wretched mistake.

Oh,

my poor cheese!

Well, that might seem extremely random to everyone reading this. “Where did the cheese come from and why did someone take it? Sure, that’s answered in the poem, but what inspired you to write that?” The answer is actually surprisingly simple. In the poetry workshop that I used to grace, sometimes side-conversations would erupt that disrupted a full fifteen minutes. A few details were significant enough for me to chronograph, such as birthdays, the word “sapphirine” (a type of gem), “consciously” (to remind myself how to spell it), unusual words, hash marks, or even chemical formulas. The upper margin of my journal from those sessions is littered with doodles and notes of the above. I was reading though the old pages yesterday, looking for something to read at an open mic, and encountered a totally random phrase. “Who moved my cheese?” I could tell it was a prompt, because farther down the page was an attempt to write a “who moved my chocolate” poem, which was quite enthusiastically crossed out. See what gems you can get from expired or filled-up notebooks? Even if it’s word barf, (as many of them turn out to be) it’s still an idea, and it has potential to inspire or evolve into something amazing!

Thus, for today’s prompt, I challenge you to write a poem about “Who moved my cheese/__________?”, where the blank stands for some object of value to you . For a quirkier pom, pick something sillier (eraser, rubber band, frying pan, watermelon, cupcake wrapper, etc.) I still think that cheese is your best bet, though!

Happy Easter!

-Aidyl

NaPoWriMo 2014: Days 11, 12, 17, and 18

Love Poem of a Pawn and Glasses

She felt

so small, insignificant.

He could see right through her,

she was a pawn in the face

of his face. But she loved

his clarity, clean boundaries,

well-sculpted edges and curves, chiseled

to godlike. And she? Well, she

had a figure that caught his eye,

that called for examination. She, overjoyed

that she could have caught

his attention,

smiled

like the queen that she could be

if she really wanted to.

Black/White

To a poet

or a writer

or an artist,

black and white

is anything but;

not

boring, it’ a skeleton,

the foundation

of all existence. Invertebrates

don’t exist

in creative reality

because they’re too squishy, they don’t

survive

the prodding

of lit critics.

And don’t say that creative reality

doesn’t exist

because it does,

thanks to creative liberties.

Air-bird Written Thoughts

All thoughts

gushing,

rushing,

released

through a pinpoint ballpoint

pressure point

release point.

It’s not legible

and I probably won’t be able

to read it

in six million years, but

it’s out there. Pent up thoughts

of days,

maybe weeks,

even months,

half a year

of poetry solitary

confinement, no contact

with another member

of the poet race.

Be free, thoughts! Spread

to the corners of the world, show

just what my thoughts are,

just what you are. Be

like the wind-bird air flyer-thoughts

of culture, spreading viral video

across the globe

and even to the parts of the world

that don’t have internet,

Imagination

is our internet.

Writing Not-writing

I wish that I could write

but for writer’s block;

that terrible region

of thought

with no exit,

no freedom, no

known way out.

But if I’m writing a poem

about writer’s block

does that mean

that I still have it? Or no?

Gah!

My sanity flees!

Yet…

how can I have written

any words

if I’m blocked? Freedom!

Un-blockage

of the block

turns it into a circle-shape (ha!),

rainbow bubbles that float

on the peaceful winds

of imagination.

There is a lot of imagination going on in all four of those poems above. That’s probably because I’ve finally hit back into that niche where my good and original-type of poetry comes from. I’m sorry if you have no idea what I’m talking about; you must feel quite lost! Some poets out there might get it, and they would understand what a lucid place it is. It’s exciting! Words come onto the page free and happy like butterflies made of shattered shafts of sunshine! *cue rainbow happy squee music* This is another moment when I really recommend a morning paper exercise (See here or here for a better description of it). So many of my un-blocking poems are like it that few are fit for anything.

Let’s return to the first poem. To better explain it, I’ll grant you your prompt of the day: write a love poem about two completely random, inanimate objects, anywhere in the room you’re in–or outside of it. If you’ve got a few Story Cubes, those would work really well, because you don’t want to unconsciously look for the best pair. For example, you could do a foot and the moon, an eye and an arrow, a face and a mask, or a bridge and a star (examples that I rolled with the cubes). They shouldn’t have anything to do with each other–like a queen and a king from a chessboard. A shoe and a sock. Salt and pepper shakers. They are way to similar for this prompt! Try a shoe and a pepper shaker, or a salt shaker and a sock instead. Go with more a DVD and a curtain tie. A teapot aaaaaaaaaaaaaand…a tennis racket. Seriously, I could do this all day. When I wrote my poem, the glasses were faced well away from the pawn, which gave me the impression that maybe the pawn was in love with the glasses because the glasses didn’t seem to care about her. And don’t ask me why the pawn’s a she–maybe because they turn into queens if you get them to the other side of the board? Who knows! Pick and fly with it. ;

 

Never Never, So Always Always: Wait, What?

Never Never

Always always,

there are more words for always

than there are for

never,

ceased,

not ever begun,

not ever achieved,

not ever dreamed,

not ever done.

And forever,

forever,

is therefore consistently more

important

than never ever ever.

Never say never,

always, say “Ever!”

Always.

Think of the synonyms for that! Forever, eternally, perpetually, incessantly, unfailingly…on and on it goes. But then consider the synonyms of the following:

Never.

Well…give me a few minutes for that.

tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…

I’m still thinking…

tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…tick…tock…

Okay, fine, I give up. Are there any?

Not unless you count “Ne’er”, which is totally like the same word, y’know? I mean, ewhmahgawd, naoway!

Way.

What ways to say…say way?

*Koff koff koff ahem*

As I was saying, there are no synonyms for never. (If you want to count ne’er, go ahead and I’ll say “there are few synonyms”) There are several for always. Of course, since always is an antonym for never, then all the synonyms for always are the antonyms for never, and the antonym for never, always, has few antonyms, if you can get your head around that twisty snake-sentence.

That isn’t a snake sentence; a snake sentence is one that’s like that but makes less sense as it sentences soundly south and up all around the page and on and on in curvy back-and-forth reading like you do when reading most Western languages; then it’s a coiled up snake-like those that the Mayans had on their stone carvings; you could also call this a run-on, and you would be right, because this sentence isn’t quite snaky enough to be a snake-sentence.

There.

And done.

And:

–Aidyl

…always.

NaPoWriMo: Day 4

Tinted With Nighttime

Serene soft silky

satin whisper-walkers

dreary drifting above

candy-colored world

tinted with nighttime and dew

like baby spiders on breezes

with tiny white parachutes.

Thinking there is music

but you can’t quite make out the tune;

if you focus on it

it flees like a

shy draiad.

This poem started almost randomly, with a few words that sounded good together in the right order: “Serene satin silky whisper-walkers”. Sounds neat, doesn’t it? Sounds like something you can do, wouldn’t you think? Oh, I’m certain you can make something up like that. Just take an idea of a time, place, or image and grab a few words that fit that place.

(And sorry for missing yesterday and the day before. Life got away from me)

–Aidyl

To An Odd Meaning, Get Flip-Flop Words

Green-Eyed Girl

Hanging by her knees

and eating caramel apples.

Oh, her bright green eyes!

Haiku are some of my favorite forms of poetry.

Some people don’t like the restriction of the meter, which is five syllables in the first line, seven in the second, and five again in the third, for those of you who don’t know or remember. (For those of you who don’t care, you don’t have to.) The above poem doesn’t really make much sense, but it sounds really interesting, like “Ooze-dripping caramel-hazel of ten million eyes like godly tear-nectar”. To me, that sentence sounds/reads like caramel. Say it aloud. Heck, say the above haiku aloud, too.

See what I mean?

But the poetry of words isn’t really part of this right now.

What?” You’re probably yelling, “Hey guys, Aidyl isn’t talking about the poetry of words in a post about poetry! You’ve got to come read this!”

As you learned in elementary school, every word has a different role to play in a sentence. There are the two basic types that you need to make a simple sentence  noun (subject) and verb. Then there are the ones that writers and poets earn their bread with: adjectives and adverbs, baby!

Ahem, we’re not talking about adjectives and adverbs right now either. And don’t dial-up all your friends to tell them about it!

Some words can be a verb or a noun, depending on where they are in the sentence, such as “eyes”. “He eyes her.” has a different meaning from “Her eyes. He…”, am I right? A friend of mine gave me this prompt that I’m about to show you a few examples of. The idea is to write one haiku about anything, and then to take the words and change them around. This is what I came up with by only exchanging the words on the same line.

By hanging her knees’

caramel apples and eating

her bright eyes; oh green!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Her knees, by hanging

and eating apples, caramels

her green, oh bright! eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Knees her, hanging by

apples and eating caramel.

Eyes her, oh bright green.

Here’s a brief summary of the meaning of each of the three weird haiku, in case you got a little lost. 1) By hanging up the caramel apples that belonged to her knees and eating her eyes: oh green! 2) By eating apples and hanging around, her knees caramelize her eyes (rhyme unintended) 3) He knees her as he hangs by apples and eats caramel. Then he eyes her; oh bright green.

Few make sense, but watch what happens if I start mixing up words from all over the poem…?

Eyes bright by hanging

apples and green caramel, oh

and eating her knees.

-.-.-.-.-

Caramel eyes and her

apples eating her green and

knees and by–oh! Bright!

Just two haiku and we’re already getting a little into the kind of dreamland that you can only get to by eating a sixteen-inch triple-anchovy pizza with garlic and pineapple on it, two minutes before you go to sleep. Or twenty-five apple fritters from some questionable gas station. But no matter how much you stuffed yourself with items from the “fats and sweets” part of the food triangle that is supposed to remain microscopic, you’ve still got to appreciate how many different haiku I got out of those thirteen words. In fact, even though the six haiku I’ve just shared with you seems like a lot, there are still over six million different combinations for those thirteen words. If you can find out a way to rearrange the words that fits the meter (see above if you can’t remember it) and sounds really cool, share it in the comments. I’d love to see what you can come up with!

–Aidyl

Numbers and Questions

Why?

Why do kids always ask

why?

Why do parents always say

‘because’?

Why don’t parents say

‘I don’t know’?

Why do the kids grow up like that?

Why can’t they admit

their ignorance?

Are they only proud or is it

taught?

How do you stop one of these

vicious cycles?

And how do you finally get

an answer?

Why

in algebra

don’t you solve for variables in polynomials?

Why do you

evaluate

but don’t search for a simplified

identity?

What is a real

number?

What is

the only real number?

Why is

 the only real number

one?

Why am I asking and answering

these questions?

Why am I so serious

about them?

Why am I still unanswered?

Why do I still not know

the answers to the unanswered?

Why can no question be answered

without another being asked?

Why can curiosity never be

satisfied?

Why must we

leave a question alone?

Why is there

never one completing answer that

argues and satisfies the question

and all its curiosity?

Why is

‘that’s the way it is’

not a satisfactory answer?

Because that’s

the way it is, because

we cannot always understand it.

A question unanswered is like a

variable without an identity.

Painful,

but you can’t

solve it.

This interesting poem came from one prompt: “Question marks catch the reader’s attention more than exclamation marks. If you use a question, your statement becomes a question and the reader tries to answer that question before they move on. Write a poem using as many questions as possible…”

When I was solving polynomials and doing other such silly things that had to do with moving stupid variables around, I hated it. A variable stands for a number, but the number is unknown. In an equation, you solve for the variable and find its true identity. You can think of it as sort of a number in disguise and you have to hire a P.I. (you) to find out who/what/which it is.

Then let’s look at polynomials and linear equations. Okay, give me a break. We’re unable to actually simplify the variable because we don’t know what it is. You learn to toss them around and rearrange them backwards and forwards (multiply, then factor). But what’s the point? How do you use these in real life?

And what about linear equations. Those, too, make me irritated. The variable in a linear equation stands for any number that fits onto the equation’s graph. Confused? I know I am. Let’s take a trip back to middle school…

Each linear equation has a graph with little dots drawn on it. This line, like the graph of an inequality, shows all the solutions to the equation. Well, not all on one sheet of graph paper, but the line would if you had an infinitely sized piece of paper…which nobody does. The equation is a rule that tells the solutions. The dots stand for two numbers, like so: (x, y) The x-axis goes horizontal, the y-axis goes vertical. They’re coordinates, like latitude and longitude, only a little less confusing for people to understand.

Now, the variables in a linear equation are not meant to be answered. They are placeholders for any number on the equation’s graph.  Get ready for the most confusing part for my brain: there’s no one identity for the variable.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH–

Hang.

On.

One.

Second.

No, that’s wrong.

There is one identity for each variable.

Recall my post Infinite Identity: A Theory of Numbers. Go back and read the post if you can’t; the theory is too complicated to say in here. I’ll wait.

You back? Good.

Do you know what I’m going to say? You do? I’m going to say it anyway, just in case.

Since each number has an infinite amount of identities, each variable has that at more. In a polynomial, a variable could be any number. Thus it has an infinite number of identities, but each number that it can be also has an infinite number of identities! So, a polynomial or any equation containing unsolved variables has a variable with an infinitely infinite identity!

For this reason numbers are often weird.

And for this reason I don’t really like algebra anymore.

–Aidyl