Climate Change in Nine Lines x 2 Cyclones Dovi and Fili, 2022
And so came a day at summers end we waited for the autumn storm . huge floods; they came to beat us and close our roads and tracks bridges washed away climate change: and it went on not days, weeks.
weeks not days, it went on climate change and bridges washed away and close our roads and tracks: another storm tracks its way and this one they named Fili … which in Samoan means enemy.
Benita H. Kape (c)
And now for our (optional) daily prompt! Because it’s a Saturday, I thought I’d try a prompt that asks you to write in a specific form – the nonet! A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second has eight, and so on until you get to the last line, which has just one syllable.
I think you are an inanimate thing hanging on a wall. Not that tall flowering Yucca plant. Not the waves rolling in there on the beach, but the hint of them. And in the background the cliff or maybe the hint of the cloud drifting overhead. the gentle days when lying sunning on the beach far from the city.
The one moment the painter ceased painting this picture; or one of his many immediate scenes, and made love. The day you were everywhere for him and not in his head.
Benita H. Kape (c) 11.4.2022
Prompt Notes: Darned hard to get going on this. Then I chose to be as abstract as I could be.
“And last but not least, here is our daily prompt (optional, as always). Today’s prompt comes to us from this list of “all-time favorite writing prompts.” It asks you to name your alter-ego, and then describe him/her in detail. Then write in your alter-ego’s voice. Maybe your alter-ego is a streetwise detective, or a superhero, or a very small goldfinch. Whoever or whatever your alternate self may be, I hope this prompt lets you stretch both your writing skills and your self-knowledge. “
When I know where I am going At the expected hour A thought never occurs: Loss may be a part of it. For I look to the stars; An otherwise cloudless night Ending with just you and I.
Benita H. Kape (c) 7.4.2022
My phrase which makes an acrostic variation, word rather than alphabet letter, was ‘When at a loss for an ending,’ a line from the poem ‘The Student’ by Billy Collins. I took ages to find a phrase I was happy with. Sometimes we are just taken on a journey and we can’t explain why.
“Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a variation of an acrostic poem. But rather than spelling out a word with the first letters of each line, I’d like you to write a poem that reproduces a phrase with the first words of each line. Perhaps you could write a poem in which the first words of each line, read together, reproduce a treasured line of poetry? You could even try using a newspaper headline or something from a magazine article. Whatever you choose, I hope you enjoy this prompt. “
Shrug that paragraph cloaking your right shoulder.
Or your left shoulder; if that’s the hand you write with.
Stretch the neck of that word intent on strangling you.
Lick a word; more than once if it’s tasty, especially if it excites the hormones rather than the bones of it.
Spit out the words you cannot spell just remember you are neither a cobra or an alpaca; leave the spitting to them.
Eight is my lucky number.
I ate as many words as I could devour.
I can still see my toes.
Eleven is my lucky number too.
Benita H. Kape (c) 5.4.2022
“Finally, here’s our optional prompt! Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem . . . in the form of a poetry prompt. If that sounds silly, well, maybe it is! But it’s not without precedent. The poet Mathias Svalina has been writing surrealist prompt-poems for quite a while, posting them to Instagram. You can find examples here, and here, and here.”
There’s a dreary morning coming up the sky’s as dull as a shoe. It’ll be a day that won’t touch even the gap of blue.
(By Vincent O’Sullivan)
It was March, East Coast of Aussie coping it bad. Rain hangs and doesn’t budge. Of weather warnings; given the superadd. There’s a dreary morning coming up.
It seemed the rain was never spent. It kept on coming through. With climate change little will prevent. The sky’s as dull as a shoe.
The water was up to windows, then the roof. An airclub/field, planes swept away: too jolly much. But they’d reclaim them and regroup. It’ll be a day that won’t touch
The days they’d waited to see again. When they would reassemble and review; Right down to the last drop of sky, fundament – Even the last gap of blue.
Benita H. Kape (c) 5.4.2022
“And now for our (optional) prompt. This one is a bit complex, so I saved it for a Sunday. It’s a Spanish form called a “glosa” – literally a poem that glosses, or explains, or in some way responds to another poem. The idea is to take a quatrain from a poem that you like, and then write a four-stanza poem that explains or responds to each line of the quatrain, with each of the quatrain’s four lines in turn forming the last line of each stanza. Traditionally, each stanza has ten lines, but don’t feel obligated to hold yourself to that! Here’s a nice summary of the glosa form to help you get started.”
NOTES: It was jolly well more complex but I have done one before, eight years ago (which I like better than this one.) But yeah I got it done.
Because at the moment, too many Rainy day for me, and yet more rain.
Some said it went on for twenty days: Others said only twelve. Well t’was day two began the flooding,
Bridges washed away. Forty seven Roads closed. The heavens just Wept and wept and wept some more.
Sometimes heavy, sometimes slow But it went on. The basket we call Earth slipped and slid and lake upon
Lake – we felt no justice. Until finally In April the rain eased. Though it was A weak – entrance – the sun made.
Emily, such heavy baskets we produced. It’s not by God, but human – climate change. & I – being human – as guilty as the rest.
Benita H. Kape (c) 1.4.2022
I think this poem is too pragmatic for Emily. But with the line I chose: first line of a second stanza poem number 352 this is just what came to me. Wrote it for Early Bird the 31st March but only now got to post.
NaPoWriMo 2022 – Early Bird
Dickinson is known for her elliptical style, unusual word choices, and mordant sense of humor. Over the past year, I’ve experimented with writing poems based on, or responding to, various lines from her poems. Today, I’d like to challenge you to do the same! Here are a few lines of Dickinson’s that might appeal to you (the slashes indicate line breaks):
“Forever might be short” “The absence of the Witch does not / Invalidate the spell” “If to be ‘Elder’ – mean most pain – / I’m old enough, today” “The second half of joy / Is shorter than the first” “To be a Flower, is profound / Responsibility – And if none of those inspire you, you can find many of her poems here.
I took the line “My basket holds – just – firmament – “