NaPoWriMo – Day Thirty

National Poetry Writing Month
April that special time
Poetry composing abounds
Only thirty short days
Writing begins furiously
Resting only briefly
Imagination running rampant
Mastery of the written word
Once a year …

Digital Image

© Dawn Whitehand 2017

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NaPoWriMo – Earth Day 2017

        our planEt is dying
    our politiciAns denying
 our scientists Ridiculed
      our populaTion fooled
           meanwHile the earth sighs
while the fauna Dies
    and the florA slips away
       inevitablY we will all pay

Digital Manipulation of Original Drawing : original drawing can be seen here https://apoemandadrawingaday.wordpress.com/2016/10/15/obliteration/

© Dawn Whitehand 2017

 

NaPoWriMo : Day Fourteen

I stared
unbelieving
open mouthed
palms outstretched
tooing and froing
left foot
right foot
imagine
my surprise

© Dawn Whitehand 2017

NaPoWriMo – Day Ten

eyes heavy with the sands of sleep
I struggle down the bare hallway
footsteps echoing spasmodically

stumbling blindly … grasping…

reaching for the elusive
that which will make sense of the day

…coffee …

© Dawn Whitehand 2017

NaPoWriMo – Day Eight

once bright and alert
now dull and watery

your sunken eyes watch me
tracing my uncertain steps

bones protrude delicately
accepting my wrinkled reality

your fragility is unsettling
a reminder of my forever mortality

Digital Drawing from Original Photo

 

© Dawn Whitehand 2017

Sonnet for a Flower

Whilst walking in a meadow last weekend,
I found a flower of strange appearance.
Its stem delicate yet strong would not bend,
Growing in the middle of a clearance.
With misshapen leaves stripped in orange fur,
And prickly bells smiling up at the clouds.
I tried to pick it, impaled on a bur,
and was quite unaware of the mass crowds,
Big black cows watching me from a distance.
Curiouser they crept ever closer,
As fickle beasts I need no assistance,
In backing away no nonsense, no sir!
But alas the object of my desire,
Trampled and crushed a flower never more.

Digital Drawing

Digital Drawing

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

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Prompt from www.napowrimo.net – a sonnet

Fairy Tales Day 21 NaPoWriMo – Haiku

once a gold carriage
then suddenly midnight strikes
a pumpkin again

Digital Painting

Digital Painting

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

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Prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net
Write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. Instead of writing from the point of view of Cinderella, write from the point of view of the mouse who got turned into a coachman. Instead of writing from the point of view of Orpheus or Eurydice, write from the point of view of one of the shades in Hades who watched Eurydice leave and then come back.

So, I am writing a haiku from the point of view of the pumpkin!!

How to Throw on the Potters Wheel – A Didactic poem

firstly become centred
feel the moisture
envelope your being
gliding between your fingertips
pulling up squeezing down
slowly gently opening
guiding delicate curves
skillfully pulling upwards
shaping the sturdy foot
caressing the bulging belly
supporting the shoulder
tenderly smoothing ripples

creating a life

Digitally altered Photo

Digitally altered Photo

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

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Prompt from www.napowrimo.net :
“Many years ago, “didactic” poetry was very common – in other words, poetry that explicitly sought to instruct the reader in some kind of skill or knowledge, whether moral, philosophical, or practical. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write the latter kind of “how to” poem – a didactic poem that focuses on a practical skill”  …. so my response – my practical skill is throwing on the potters wheel 🙂

Day 16 Almanac Questionaiire NaPoWriMo

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gothic silhouettes in the mist
assemble at noon beneath the town clock
a monotonous daily mindless ritual
for what nobody now remembers

I dream clean fresh air
while watching two headed fish
navigate a brown murky stream
and wonder at hungry flowers
gobbling wingless birds falling from the heavens

but a blue sky exists
claims my handsome imaginary rescuer
ignoring my glib unisex uniform
enforced to construct forlorn subservience

memories of the past diminish
while the eccentric tells all
and I clutch to my heart
a scrap of parched letterhead
love forever mum and dad

the only other paper newsprint
headlines the sun soon expires
and I imagine a koala
clutching a dead leafless branch
framed gruesomely through my grimy bedroom window

and remember the childhood story
don’t approach the city limits
corrupt music and laughter abound
yet when walking three minutes
down a sterile drab alley
I see nothing of difference

and I fear remaining here decomposing forever
an export of harvested flesh
where street money is valueless
a forlorn fixture of loneliness
trapped within a town postcard
an homogeneous grey deteriorating cityscape

Digitally Altered Original Conte Drawing

Digitally Altered Original Conte Drawing

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

Prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net
The challenge answer, in no more than five minutes, the following “Almanac Questionnaire,” which solicits concrete details about a specific place (real or imagined). Then write a poem incorporating or based on one or more of your answers.
My place was imagined, and I used every answer in my poem…. here are my answers:

Almanac Questionnaire

Weather: misty
Flora: carnivorous
Architecture: gothic
Customs: assemble under the town clock at noon everyday
Mammals/reptiles/fish: mutants
Childhood dream: fresh air
Found on the Street: money (has no value)
Export: human harvested flesh
Graffiti: a blue sky exists
Lover: an imagined rescuer
Conspiracy: power brokers have constructed a scenario of servitude and helplessness
Dress: homogeneous uniform grey apparel
Hometown memory: none
Notable person: eccentric on the hill (who has memories)
Outside your window, you find: dead tree
Today’s news headline: sun soon to expire
Scrap from a letter: love forever mum and dad
Animal from a myth: koala
Story read to children at night: don’t approach the city limits
You walk three minutes down an alley and you find: nothing different
You walk to the border and hear: strange nose (music and laughter)
What you fear: remaining here forever
Picture on your city’s postcard: grey non-descript deteriorating cityscape