Napowrimo Day 6

Today's prompt was to write a poem about food, or inspired by food, or about our relationship with food. Mine is closest to the latter.

"Anorexic?"
They questioned.
"Bulimic."
They reasoned.
"Gumby."
They jeered.
I was thin, a little gangly.
Girls can be mean in high school.
I was awkward,
but man could I eat.
I ate when I was bored, sad, mad, glad,
And of course when I was hungry.
I ate four meals a day, plus snacks.
But I never purged in any way,
My body was just built that way.
I could eat, eat, eat
And not gain an ounce for weeks.
Medical professionals seemed unconcerned.
But  girls always made comments about my size
In response to which, my cheeks burned
And I was anorexic, they more often than not implied.
Even now "You're so TINY."
They say.
But now, while I'm still built that way,
I barely eat one meal a day.
Having been accused of an eating disorder for so long,
I seem to have developed one along the way.
I still like food I do.
And I still like to eat, eat, eat.
But I've gotten so good at procrastinating
That I even wait to put food on my plate.
Most days I get one good meal and a few snacks
I love to cook
But my quantity of meals per day seems to top out at two, max.
I usually blame it on lack of time
But there is part of me deep inside that says,
"I'm thin and I'd prefer to keep it that way."


I don't really talk about this much . . . Suffice it to say, I like food, but my relationship with it is not the healthiest. In high school I definitely didn't have an eating disorder, but now? I'm not sure. I really wish people wouldn't comment on my size or weight, but it is what it is. I guess.

Sharon

Napowrimo Day 5

Today's prompt was to write a poem inspired by the oddly interesting names of heirloom vegetables. I have worked the names of a few into a completely unrelated free verse poem.

like a Sunrise full of Bumblebees

at the beginning of an Early Golden Summer

when you Crook your Neck because the sun is so bright,

sometimes I have a Tongue of Fire

and speak my mind freely with no filter

but really I am like a Clemson, Spineless

I always regret those hasty words and wish my tongue was tame

my words are sometimes too big for me to stand behind

and I feel as though they my tongue taunts me, yelling “Fooled You!”

and I wish to retire to a Turkish Striped Monastery

where the monks have taken a vow of silence

so that my words may never betray me again

The heirlooms I incorporated are as follows (not in the order they are in the poem):

Fooled You Hybrid Pepper

Turkish Striped Monastery Tomato

Sunrise Bumblebee Tomato

Clemson Spineless Okra

Early Golden Summer Crookneck Summer Squash

Tongue of Fire Bean

 

Happy Heirloom Inspired Writing!

Sharon

 

Napowrimo day 4

The prompt was to write a poem about the cruelest month, but I couldn't decide on a cruelest month so I've written a poem that has reasons each month could be the cruelest month - though no reason seems good enough to me to declare a month cruel.

January is the cruelest month

          You have to remember to write a new year

          The nights are cold and long

          You have few holidays to enjoy.

February is the cruelest month

           A fat baby flies around shooting people with arrows

           People celebrate love

            A groundhog predicts long winter or early spring

            Fate at the hands of a groundhog – really?

March is the cruelest month

            It seems as though it’s warm

            But then it suddenly is cold

            And then – to make it all worse – the allergies set in!

April is the cruelest month

           Everyone is a fool on the first

          Taxes are due the 15^th

           Will you get cash back or will you have to write a check? We shall see!

May is the cruelest month

          Graduates have so much hope

           It’s getting consistently warm – maybe even hot

           Kids just can’t wait to be free

June is the cruelest month

          Everyone and their dog gets married

          Pointing out the loneliness of those who are not

          The longest day of the year occurs – when will the heat end?

July is the cruelest month

          We celebrate the beginning of a brutal revolution

           Gunpowder fills the air

          The dog days of summer are here!

August is the cruelest month

           Summer is coming to an end!

            We must get ready for school

             And it always seems that we really wasted our vacation.

September is the cruelest month

          Other places have fall in September, but Texas is not so kind

          Cool crisp air, apples on trees? Not here, no sirree!

          At the end of the month is a personal reminder of growth; the 30^th can’t go by without me

           Feeling at least a little bit old.

October is the cruelest month

            A false sense that winter is coming

            Hope for a comfortable Halloween

            Adults can’t go trick-or-treating – no candy for me!

November is the cruelest month

                This November will be a year since my wreck

               A pretty bad accident it was – but physically I’m okay

               Thanksgiving will come then and I’ll spend all day cooking and hoping for no drama.

December is the cruelest month

             My bank account will groan

             The days get shorter

              Nights spent wrapping carefully, beautiful packages made – undone in minutes on the day.

Napowrimo Day3

I'm already behind . . . oh well! Two poems today to catch up!

First is yesterday's which was to write a fan letter poem - which I didn't really do. Instead I've written a poem about Marie Antoinette, but not really a fan letter, I'm not sure what I would classify it as, but here it is:

Marie Antoinette

Born in Austria

Youngest of fifteen

Trained from a young age to be queen

Married King Louis XVI

And there her misfortunes began

He did not even make the wedding

They were married by proxy you see.

They lived a life quite lavish.

Things went downhill fast.

For King Louis,

No good was he

At ruling his country.

The people they did revolt.

The streets of Paris ran red with the blood

 Of the ruling class and the nobility

First went the king

Then dear Marie

Was falsely accused

And her head was demanded too.

I have always had some odd attraction

To Mademoiselle Marie.

Misfortune befell her

Though she never did anything wrong.

When people get mad

They act like cads

And go beheading innocent people.

Of Dear Miss Marie,

I’m quite fond you see, though inexplicably.

Napowrimo 2016 - Day 2

Today's prompt was to write a poem in the form of a family portrait. Ms. Thorson suggested spending time discussing each member of your family, but I took a different route. Also, the portrait I reference does exist (though it isn't framed); it is over the couch in the living room at my parents' house. Without further ado:

We smile down from the wall

Six of us in all

Five wear red; one in white.

I smile unaware of how much life will change

Me, the youngest in the frame.

My siblings are all there, but alone

No plus ones I mean.

And my parents are happy too

Because their family is always together over holidays and breaks from school.

Oh, I was such a fool

To think it would stay this way.

When was this picture taken anyway?

Was I in high school?

Or still trying to survive junior high?

Our faces really don’t look very different.

But now my siblings are pairing off.

My parents and I took a family photo for the church directory this year

Just the three of us.

A family of six; reduced by half.

And yet we are more.

My brother, his wife, their son.

My sister, her husband.

My sister, her boyfriend.

You can’t invite one without expecting the other.

They are attached at the very hip

As connected as conjoined twins.

Sometimes I just want to spend time with them

Only them.

My siblings and me.

Why can’t they see?

Maybe I am a little bitter

Because years ago they rejected my significant other

Ah, but that is another thing entirely . . .

2 days down, 28 to go!

Sharon

NaPoWriMo 2016!

It's April and that can mean only one thing: NaPoWriMo!

Today's prompt from NaPoWriMo.net was to write a lune which is similar to a haiku, but has three lines with a syllable count of 5,3,5. Here is my very simple lune:

Anchors on a boat

Weigh it down

So to do my doubts

Happy Writing!

Sharon

NaPoWriMo 2016 is Coming!

Between work and school and my new puppy, I've been busy. But April is 22 days away and April means NaPoWriMo and I LOVE poetry. You can check out my poems from last year if you'd like. I will again take on the challenge of writing a poem every day in April and I'm quite excited.

In celebration of the impending NaPoWriMo, I've decided to write a brief poem using a prompt I found here.

The specific prompt is to write a poem beginning with the simile I miss you like . . . Here goes!

I miss you like
A bear misses having its paw in a bear trap
I miss you like
A fish misses having a hook in its mouth

But if I'm being honest,
I miss you like a sunflower misses the sun when its cloudy
I miss you the way the sun misses the new moon
I miss you the way a hummingbird can't complete its migration without flowers
I miss you the way a rainbow misses raindrops.

Sometimes we're bad for each other
But mostly my life seems dimmer without you
But mostly I shine more when you're around
But mostly I'm more tired without you around
But mostly my life seems impossible with you gone.



That poem isn't intended to be sad, but it does seem a bit dark . . . perhaps I should have written from the perspective of my puppy when I leave him at my apartment. Maybe another day, after all there's plenty of time between now and NaPoWriMo.

Spring break is coming up and I may try to write more poetry then.

Be well, dear friends,

Sharon