#NaPoWriMo18: Day 4, What It Is

For the Day 4 Prompt, a challenge to describe an abstraction with concrete nouns. Photo by Steve Halama on Unsplash

What it is is something smouldering
A tiny reed, slowly taking flame
That perchance with time might
Burst into a raging flame

What it is is a call and response
A place remembered and returned to
In a season of despair

In its light one sees
the self in all its glory
warts and all,
and learns the painful truth
that one is human too

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 3, Name Dropping


For the Day 3 prompt, A list poem of band names. I fear my choices betray my age (and my penchant for Christian Contemporary Music). Photo by frankie cordoba on Unsplash.

Six Pence None The Richer
for you corrodes my conformity
into discordant notes.

On Black Streets,
six degrees north of Building 429
a Rush Of Fools Switches foot
and stops to breathe again.

DC Talks to the Newsboys
Ignoring Caedmon’s Call
Until the Third Day
when the Second Chapter Of Acts
is unleashed.

#NaPoWriMo18

Offshore Nigeria, back in the day. For the prompt Rise/Set.

It is now a mere three days to the start of National Poetry Month this year, three years since I last participated. Back then in addition to the prompts from the NaPoWriMo website, I had La Reine and Tolu for company, two poets who are far more deserving of the label. I plan on jumping in this year, the idea primarily being to participate, rather than hammer out high quality poetry. Fingers crossed.

#2 – Weathered


Aberdeen’s City Centre is a panoply of old, weathered buildings, seasoned – as Yusef Komunyakaa so eloquently puts it in his poem, Ode To The Drum – by wind, dusk and sunlight. To that trio of elements, one would have to add snow and rain, given they are hardly ever in short supply in this corner of the world.

Before oil – and some would add, the EU  – there was fishing and an entire industry of fish processing in and around the harbour area. These days, gleaming buildings – and car parks – share the skyline, a curious juxtaposition of old and new, brick and glass and perhaps the reinvention of a city.

Rhythmic

dance

Image Credit Seb (Unsplash); for the prompt Rhythmic


In the wake
of the rising sun
comes the call of dawn;
a song drawn
from the chirp of birds,
the flutter of leaves,
the creak of stirring bones
and the lap of waves
carried on the breath
of the morning breeze.

Here on the edge
of the morning
in the quiescence of
a lingering dream,
the memory of the patter
of your feet lives on.
In the sumptuous symphony
of nature’s call and response,
the perfect fit
of the lilt of your voice
and the wind in the trees
You return.