2012 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: Days 13-30

[uneven steven]

flight of the dodo

until both of us soared
what did we do but
dodo around
mocked by pale explorers
poking us at their leisure

until both of us soared
flight was not flight
gravity unbound
and still
always needing more air
to kiss

until both of us soared
it was all myth and melting wax
words
two brothers could never have done it
it must’ve been lovers
in their sleep
creating dream worlds
for each other


quick silly one here -
didn't want this one to be the first one up for the prompt this morning so posting on the forum -

[tunesmiff]

Day 13: A letter OR A Recipe

DEAREST ONE
(c) 2012 - G. Smith
-------------------------------------------
Dearest One,
I'll always recall
that one thing
that you use
that makes all the difference.
Forever yours; me
_____________________________
Day 14: Stuck

THE HAND I'M DEALT
(c) 2012 - G. Smith
---------------------------------
The hand I'm dealt
Is from the deck I opened;
I have no choice but to play.
Aces high,
One-eyed jacks are wild,
Let the chips fall where they may.
______________________________
Day 15: A trade off

DAY TO DAY
(c) 2012 - G. Smith
-------------
Day to day,
Minute to minute,
Wondering
If you'll stay.
Better the devil you know
Than the one you don't.

________________________________________________
Day 16: Use the last line from the previous day's poem

BETTER THE DEVIL(c) 2013 - G. Smith
--------------------------------
Than the one you don't
know,
Than the one you don't
hear;
Than the one you don't
see,
Than the one you don't
fear;

Than the one you don't
hold,
Than the one you don't
miss:
Than the one you don't
like,
Than the one you don't
kiss;

Than the one you don't
pay,
Than the one you don't
find;
Than the one you don't
beg,
Than the one you don't
mind;

Than the one you don't
drive,
Than thet one you don't
lead,
Than the one you don't
break,
Than the one you don't feed;

Than the one you don't
serve,
Than the one you don't
sue,
Than the one you don't
love,
Than the devil you
do.

[vivinfrance]

Day 18 - a Glosa poem

http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/2012/11/18/glosa/

My quatrain is the final four lines of William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 76

So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent:
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To write good poetry
is near impossible
without a knowledge
of form and metre -
in isolation, not enough
without example as a cue.
So read and read
until you’re filled
with beauty turned askew
so all my best is dressing old words new.

Fumbling in a fog
the poet sought
for something new to write,
disentangling his store
of the master’s prosody,
quotations already lent
to his successors
likewise searching
for the gems that poet lent,
spending again what is already spent.

How can we be original
when so much is already written;
how turn a mundane thought
with skill into a verse of beauty;
without unconscious copying?
How dare we be so bold
to ape the bard,
without his genius,
outshining us tenfold?
For as the sun is daily new and old

perhaps time changed the import
of the earlier words
to new significance
within the context of our modern world.
Perhaps on supplication
the bard may not withhold
consent for us to try
to write a worthwhile sonnet
which will shine anew as gold.
So is my love still telling what is told.

~~~~~
Given the time constraints of the challenge, and being out for a birthday lunch for Jock, this is inevitably a crude draft. But I enjoyed the form, and shall work on it again later. I gave up after 12 fruitless attempts to post on the other list. Life is too shorty!

[heiditoad]

To offer proof I did exist.

I wonder what that photo tells
To those who did not know me well?
For one day too you shall be gone;
The friends I’ve made as years went on.

Where the memory of me used to stand
A photo in some box does sit
To offer proof I did exist.

It doesn't matter what I gave
What came before, what path I paved
For lives untouched or touched the same
For I am still without a name.

Where the memory of me used to stand
A photo in some box does sit
To offer proof I did exist

And who of you remembers me?
No branches grown on family trees;
A nameless face in someone's hand
Is all that's that left, that's all I am.

[tunesmiff]

Day 17: a "how to ______" poem

HOW TO BUILD A WALL
(c) 2012 - G. Smith
---------------------------------------
Realize the openness
needs to be closed some way, then
begin the task of stacking
one brick at a time,
one block at a time,
one stone at a time,
one word at a time.

[mapoet]

And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed.
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.

-Langston Hughes, “The Weary Blues”


The man was weary, but couldn’t rest.
He knew what brought on the restlessness,
but he didn’t know how to still it, how to chill it.
Instead, he went along with it, let it lead the way.
He ventured out into a cold, crisp night,
thinking his journey would end fairly soon.
His pace matched his state, quick and jumpy.
Suddenly, the air carried music to his ears.
The notes seemed to come with their own wound
And far into the night he crooned that tune.

Although the song was weary, too,
it gave him a rhythm with which to move.
He walked through the streets to the new beat.
Now, he couldn’t seem to still his feet.
He traveled farther then he had planned and
realized his senses hadn’t been atuned
to the passage of time, the distance he covered.
He made his return in the dead of night
and wished for the speed of a character in a cartoon.
The stars went out and so did the moon.

The music remained his companion
as he headed home that night.
He found the music soothing
even though it was a lament.
He found the words came easily
as he snapped his fingers with each tread.
Before he knew it he was unlocking the door.
He had left his restlessness in the streets
and his soul had been well feed.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed.

So, what had he accomplished
by wandering in the dark?
His circumstances hadn’t changed.
His problems still existed.
Yet, he had found something
that could help him shed
the anxiety that had stalked him.
As he drifted off to sleep, he let
his new found peacefulness spread
while the Weary Blues echoed through his head.

[vivinfrance]

DAY 19 - a wheel poem

I was wheeling my old bike
up the hill to the village -
quite a hike - when
I suddenly thought
there must be as many
downs as ups
so why don’t I remember
freewheeling home.

I am getting less patient: I gave up after only tries on the PAD site

[mapoet]

Rush Hours

Spinning like wheels
Spinning like tops
We no longer take
the time to stop
at stop signs or
even red lights.
We are in such
a hurry to get
to our next
destination.
Will we even stop
when we get there?

[tunesmiff]

11/20 - Two-fer - a gathering in and/or a letting go:

COMMUTE
(A Sedoka)
(c) 2012 - G. Smith
---------------------------
Before the sunrise
The city draws the suburbs
From her edges to her heart.

After the sun sets
Some return reluctantly,
For most, though, that's not the case.
_________________________________

11/21 - Use five random song titles:

Keep Me In Mind (Zac Brown Band)
Begin Again (Taylor Swift)
But for the Grace of God (Keith Urban)
Where the Green Grass Grows (Tim McGraw)
The One That Got Away (Jake Owens)

REALIZATION
(c) 2012 G. Smith
------------------------
Keep me in mind,
When you begin again,
And know that I hold you,
Close to my heart.

Who else could I find,
To be more than a friend;
What could I do?
Where would I start?

The far side of the fence
Is where the green grass grows,
It's plain to see.
Even if cliche.

Despite all sense,
This is one thing I know:
But for the grace of God you'd be
The one that got away;

But for the grace of God you'd be,
The one that got away.


____________________________________

11/22 - Paradise

ICON ON THE HORIZON
(A Bussokusekika)
(c) 2012 - G. Smith
----------------------------
Is the mountain out?
And what is the weather like?
Wild flower meadows
Ring the volcano, glaciers
Spawn six rivers and ancient
Forests cloak the lower slopes.
____________________________________

11/23 - Deep

BOTTOMLESS
(Haiku)
(c) 2013 - G. Smith
-----------------------------
Your eyes are a well
From which my thirsty heart draws
Rest and refreshment.
______________________________________

11/24 - The truth about (blank)

THE TRUTH ABOUT THINGS
(Haiku)
(c) 2013 - G. Smith
---------------------------
The truth about things
is they will own us instead
of us owning them.
_____________________________

[tunesmiff]

Day 25 - an "opposite" poem - to one written earlier in the month...

g
---------------------
MAYBE
(c) 2012 - G. Smith
----------------------------------
The harvest moon is on the rise,
The starlight glistens in your eyes;
I can't believe you said, "Good-bye..."
Maybe it's not starlight.