I have fallen so far behind on my poem a day schedule that I’m likely to end up with something more like a “National Poetry Writing Week and A Half.” But I’m promising myself that I will step it up and get back on the horse: more mixed metaphors anyone?
So I go back to the prompt for, what, Day 7, a day I did actually write a mental poem based on the daily prompt, if 3 words can be considered a poem. The prompt was to write a love poem to an inanimate object. I rejected the idea–of course, because rejecting ideas is so much easier than letting them challenge one.
But perhaps Stephen Fry was right on the “bet you can’t watch just one” quiz show, QI, when he said that science has shown that people make the best decisions and think the fastest when they are most desperate to take a whiz. Yes, I was heading into the bathroom at a rather tidy pace when the “love poem to an inanimate object” came to me. With my apologies to scientists everywhere for calling this “fast thinking,” the love poem whose title far outweighs its contents:
To My Greatest Love, Welcoming Me At The Door Each Evening
Back to my original plan of dabbling in forms, rhymes, rhythms, poetics.
While an appreciator of limericks, I–quite simply–suck at them. I can never get the saucy air, the lilt that carries the reader along line to line hanging off the side of the horse, as it were. But I need to write one so let’s see what nastiness ensues. Since this blog is generally dealing with meditation, Qi, Taoist themes, I’m going for a very nonliteral Buddhist limerick.
There once was a young monk from Jaipur
With robes such bright orange you would die for.
But they needed a clean
And while in the machine
Turned so pink, he was now just an eyesore.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
All hip bones and sagging skin
Hollow eyes, naked ears.
Still chasing leaves
As if running down prey;
But time to go, time to go
Listen to the Buddha:
After many months away from this blog, I’m coming back to torment my followers by making this my site for National Poetry Writing Month in April. I’m hoping to start doing some practice work here over the next few weeks. And, no, not all my poems for April will be related to Mindfulness, Buddhism, Qi Gong, etc. but some may well turn out that way.
I love “form” poetry (as opposed to “free verse”), so I’m going to try to write in as many different forms as I can, from villanelles to haikus to, maybe, even a limerick. No promises that I’ll get in a poem a day. My grand word total for National Novel Writing Month–where the goal was 50,000 words–was just over 4000. But I did get a nifty little start on a mystery about a meditation retreat that I called “Being With Nothingness.” Maybe I’ll return to it someday.
Thus begins my scribbling.