Playing with Words

I wrote a poem in my head today
but now my mind is completely dead
and I think back on it bleakly
hoping for that extra creative hit
even becoming unusually meditative
then it comes to me and I write furiously
my spirits to an even greater height
inspiration – the great inflater

Conte on Handmade Paper

Conte on Handmade Paper

© Dawn Whitehand 2016

 

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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

 

Inspiration (?)

swirling thoughts catastrophic
an endless hurricane
confusion neverending
bombardment hammering
unrelenting spewing forth
pouring mindless raving
confused scribble
filling a blank page
scrawled mindless detritus

Ink on Handmade Paper

Ink on Handmade Paper

© Dawn WHitehand 2014

Day Two Hundred and Fifty: 30th March 2013

the gray ceiling
seemed increasingly lower
each perilous time
my eyes cautiously
opened blinking fearfully

and

thick bare walls
moved constantly inwards
silently squeezing
my barren mind
into an empty cube

Journal View - Pastel on Handmade Paper

Journal View – Pastel on Handmade Paper

©Dawn Whitehand 2013

Day Two Hundred and Forty Four: 24th March 2013

low heavy clouds rumble overhead
a curtain of dreariness descends
staring blankly through the mist
my eyes struggle to see
no thoughts brew and percolate
such a gray day today

Pastel on Handmade paper

Pastel on Handmade paper

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© Dawn Whitehand 2013