NaPoWriMo 2020 March 31 - April 2nd

Back again for another April attempt at a poem a day for 30 days and I'm already behind. I'm blaming the strange world we are currently living in.

My hope is that my poetry will be an escape from SARS-CoV-2 aka Covid-19, but if I'm being honest, it will probably make an appearance in some (or many) of my poems, we will see.

As always I will be predominantly following the prompts from napowrimo.net.

March 31st bonus prompt: write a poem about a bird

In their suitcoat they waddle
Slowly encumbered by blubber
To the water's edge,
They do not hesitate but dive in
The frigid, icy waters

Beneath the surface they are reborn
As agile, graceful dancers
They glide through the waters
Turning this way and that
Sleek performers of an underwater ballet.

Then they haul out on the surface
And resume their droll waddle
Making the frigid commute home.

April 1st prompt: "I’d like to challenge you to write a self-portrait poem in which you make a specific action a metaphor for your life – one that typically isn’t done all that often, or only in specific circumstances. For example, bowling, or shopping for socks, or shoveling snow, or teaching a child to tie its shoes."

I used to wonder,
Riding in the back seat of my parents' car
As a college student,
Yes I used to wonder 
What my life would be like
Whenever it finally began

And now that it has begun,
I suppose,
Though sometimes it still doesn't feel 
As though it had begun at all,
I have trouble saying what it might be like.

Perhaps my life is like driving a car,
Making turns, coordinating with other people
Navigating streets,
Sometimes getting lost,
Never finding a parking spot quickly
Following rules.

Or perhaps my life is like grocery shopping,
Perusing all the different aisles
Full of choices: what will you buy? What will you choose?
Each day full of new choices.
So maybe life isn't like grocery shopping.

Perhaps it is like walking a dog
Unruly on the end of the leash.
The dog pulls me around, though I try to direct it.
Am I directing my life or is it directing me?

Perhaps my life is somewhere among
The metaphor of all these things.


April 2nd prompt: write a poem about a specific place, using concrete details

I used to enter Kodosky
Through the glass doors at the south end of the building,
I'd wave my key fob in front of the box
The light would turn green,
I'd hear the lock click
And I'd open the door.

I'd softly tread across the carpet
Passing the executive and financial suites
Pass the kitchen and coffee bar
Smile at coworkers in skirts or slacks
Or looking trendy in jeans.
Exchange morning pleasantries.

Turn to the left and enter the MarComm and Programs Suite
I'd navigate the maze of cubes
Wish my supervisor good morning through her open office door
And go sit at my desk by my cube-mate

Framed pictures of friends smiled down at me
My green pothos growing happily next to them.
I'd log in to my computer and try to get work done.
Chatting with my boss and cube-mate throughout the day.

In the afternoons
People would get noisier in a cheerful sort of way
You would hear their voices
Chatting with their neighbors
About work, about phone calls, about good and bad
And life all together.

Yeah, Kodosky is a good place to be.

But now that building stands empty.
Her doors locked and shut tight.
No cheerful workers entering her carpeted halls
No one making coffee or tea.
The building settles,
But no one hears.
No one notices if there is a leak when it rains
Or if a pipe is clogged
Or if the phones go out.

No children come to work if school is out
No one chats over coffee or lunch.
The building is lonely and empty.
She misses the people who come and work and plan inside.
When will they come back? She wonders.
We know no more than she,
But I promise we miss you,
Good ole Kodosky.