NaPoWriMo 2015 – Day 8

Write a retraction poem

And now, without further ado, our prompt (optional as always) for Day Eight: today I challenge you to write a palinode. And what’s that? It’s a poem in which the poet retracts a statement made in an earlier poem. You could take that route or, if you don’t have an actual poetically-expressed statement you want to retract, maybe you could write a poem in which you explain your reasons for changing your mind about something. It could be anything from how you decided that you like anchovies after all to how you decided that annoying girl was actually cool enough that you married her.

I used my starter napowritmo poem The Kind of Farm I had in Mind.

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Prime Location

 

Go south for a farm? You have got to be kidding me!

And as to dogs, I could never tolerate one, let

alone more than one. Messy or not, I’ll not go

so far as to say I’d not mind giving a hand when it comes

to the tiny new arrivals on a farm, just not my farm

because my farm will have been re-deployed

as a vineyard. I’ll exchange those heavy breakfasts

for a hair-of-the-dog-that-bit-me. The excellence

of last evenings’ salad and prawns still tingling

my taste buds. Fine dining on the old farm but finer

by far in my vineyard.

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The cottage, in a prime location, sold for more, much

more than I ever could have dreamed of. The climate,

the soil, the accessibility, everything is perfect. Next

door to my old cottage, my vineyard.

Benita H. Kape © 9.4.2015

 

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NaPoWriMo 2015 – Day 7 – write about money

It  Felt  Like  Play

A naïve and simple way to make money,

Following my brother early to the fields.

Those cool mornings, fresh air and the country.

Gathering mushrooms, each day a good yield.

Or mild February evenings after school,

Blackberries, rich pickings filling our buckets

Every contribution, though miniscule

Would add abundantly to our comforts,

When needing school books, a new pair of shoes.

Growing wise when seeking out our markets,

Approaching neighbours, teachers; none would refuse.

No bother to return to them full baskets.

Oh naïve and simple life, not for today.

A more gentle economy, it felt like play.

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Benita H. Kape © 8.4.2015

 

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NaPoWriMo 2015 – Day 6 – to write an aubade

Flipped Slippers

Aubade   for   Cat

As I open my eyes, the door is now slightly ajar.

Today, as most days, she is first up, stealthy;

intelligent, alert, and sometimes a jolly nuisance.

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This cat, my precious, my bête noir.

Dashes through the door to her Shangri-La:

to bound, not, as you might expect, onto the bed,

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but the desk, stepping gently over a bizarre

muddle of journals and pens, the repertoire,

the stockpile that is my life at the desk,

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and having hurdled some, and nudged others aside,

sniffing out any overnight changes; reaching around her

I blearily feel for the window, (there’s a built-in window

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next to that) so that I go to the next, lift the handle; both

now open to her slight size and she makes of this her cat

roundabout, back and forth: acting the newly arrived (via

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window.) Who? Not me, who scratched at the door, her steady

eye through the curtains now seems to say. How reassuring, for

whom, puss or me? Sun on her back or a little rain I know with her

to greet me, this, or any other,  it will always  be a good day.

Benita H. Kape © 7.4.2015

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NaPoWriMo 2015 – Day 5 – to deconstruct then reconstruct an Emily Dickinson poem.

Emily Dickinson  – 520

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I started very early, took nothing and no one,

with me; but this, my open mind and heart

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to the sea’s shore. Mermaids, already waiting,

waved, but did not speak though I saw the

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questions on their faces. A similar curiosity,

I felt when Frigates in the upper floor extend

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hempen hands presuming me to be a mouse

aground upon the sands. And now a wondrous

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movement within me as the tide went past my

 simple shoe and past my apron and my belt

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and past my bodice too, to meet those wet things

as wholly as a dew upon a dandelion’s sleeve and

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then I started too, and the mermaids followed me.

Close behind I felt a sea of silver heels upon mine

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own slim ankles. My shoes I let overflow with pearls,

though just as it began the jealous sea withdrew. He

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saw I came alone and home alone; I am no bride to be.

Benita H. Kape © 6.4.2015

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NaPoWriMo 2015 – Day 4 – A love poem written not to seem like a love poem

Driving  Home in  the  Dark

 

The sky is cloudy.

But that’s OK.

The lawns are mown.

And that’s really OK.

Things just grow sometimes.

And that, as I recall, was especially OK.

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I went to a movie.

That was OK, though

you weren’t there,

ever, when it came

to movies of this sort.

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I drove home in the dark, barely

able to see through my tears because

my eyes are light sensitive,

sensitive to something; and probably

due to something

no longer here.

Benita H. Kape © 5.4.2015

 

 

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NaPoWriMo 2015 – Day 3

Family Under Separate Flags

Imagine if we were as close to the Australian coast

As is jolly England to her bête noir; the shores of France.

Or one hundred and thirty six miles to Holland boast

Aussies acting like larrikins, while we would look askance.

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But whisk up egg whites and white sugar, call it Pavlova.

To the unknown creator we should both give a diploma.

Then there is the distinct sharing of the race horse Phar Lap,

Another steadfast icon, that put us both on the map.

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In nineteen hundred and one went our separate ways.

We say sex, they say six, each to each we will hector.

Giving those across the ditch, brick bats, rather than bouquets.

Rivalry between the two always on the agenda.

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We will let them have Russell Crowe because now we have Lorde

Whose among the celebs Split Enz & Flight of the Concords?

But come April not an Aussie or a Kiwi forget,

Family under separate flags, resplendent ANZACS.

Benita H. Kape (c) 4.4.2015

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