April Showers Bring… New Poems

When it comes to weather, April (at least in New England, maybe the whole northeast United States) is hit-or-miss. One day you may get 70-degree weather; the next, a foot of snow (fortunately, there haven’t been too many April snowstorms during my lifetime). And of course, as the old adage about April showers reminds us, it may rain a lot.

But April is also National Poetry Writing Month, which can help some of us to forget that crazy weather.

This year, I originally had not planned to participate in NaPoWriMo; however, after being inspired by some excellent poetry in various online journals, I decided to jump into it. I only wrote 28—not as many as last year, but considering it had been a while since I had composed a poem, it’s not a bad number.

Over the coming months, I’ll be revising some of the ones I wrote and possibly sending them out for publication. In the meantime, though, I would like to share a few with you.

The first was inspired by a prompt where I had to use at least seven metaphors and a simile in the title.

 

Like a Sunrise

You climb the mountain of sky,

stretch your arms through the leaves,

nudge the birds awake

so they can gather in their holy place,

a church of bark and branches.

Their song fills the air, carried

by the light breeze, poured

into the window. You grab hold

of another rock, closer and closer

to the top, music tickles your ears

but you’re not there yet

‘cause hours separate you

and the dawn.

 

The second is a double gogyohka where each stanza is about something different, yet they’re connected by the title.

 

Stargazing

Tiny white

dots in black

sky magnified into

flickering deep

blue suns.

 

Without moving,

painted yellow spots

emit broken rings, never

giving heat in

the cold gallery.

 

And it wouldn’t be NaPoWriMo without at least one attempt at a sonnet. This one was inspired by a line from Romeo and Juliet:

 

My only love, sprung from my only hate,

now we are destined for this world no more,

leave it to families to celebrate

our lives wiped away from the earthly shore.

 

My love, raised by parents swept up by war.

Perhaps they once understood love’s power,

but marriage caused them to shut the back door

and turn away from withering flowers.

 

My love, who sacrificed his life for me,

when he thought I’d thrown ev’rything away.

Perhaps he dreaded days of marriage strife,

of skies without sun, with blankets of gray.

 

My only love, sprung from my only hate,

I thought we could last, but now it’s too late.

 

Okay, that one needs some work—the last couplet is a bit of a cliche. Why did I include it then? Other than the one I wrote about fishing years ago, this is the first sonnet I’ve written that (almost) didn’t cause me to cringe afterwards.

I hope you enjoyed those. Did you participate in NaPoWriMo this year? Tell me about it in the comments.

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