Figure drawing

Been practicing figure drawing recently. No more poetry these days so … Here you go

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I refuse to write a poem today
Honestly, I’m all poemed out
My muse, scared and bruised
cowers behind a wet wooden apple barrel
in the garden of verse
she has been holed up there all day
lobbing handfuls of her own excrement
at me whenever I approach
barring her teeth and snarling like a wild thing
from behind a kinky tangle of dirty hair
snapping at my hands that grab at her arm, her ankle
struggling to drag her out to perform
without getting bitten

Day 28: “today I’d like to challenge you to try your hand at a meta-poem of your own … a poem about poetry” blechh, here you go, I’m watching GOT now bye
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Sonnet 130.5.2 update 1.2 (Bugfix Apr 27, 2019)

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun
Although in form they each present a sphere
one is fleshy the other gaseous nuclear fusion
boiling away in space a million miles from here
And if you seem as yet confused
I may remind you of their different function
Eyes collect and transmit light that’s used
Sun emits light in the form of radiation
Additionally my mistress eyes are paired
intrinsic to binocular perception of depth
While solar systems with twin suns are rare
A second sun would likely lead to death
I hope with this the matters finally closed
I’m not too sure from where this fault arose

Day 27: “I’d like to challenge you to “remix” a Shakespearean sonnet … You can pick a line you like and use it as the genesis for a new poem” Here is an even more literal take on Sonnet 130 from a major nerd. Catching up, just 6? poems behind, rippin thru today, totally winning Napowrimo
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Three Indeed

Interview all the time looking for your lie,
the fine spun woven tongue the poisoned gun the run
the authenticity of sued on,
research the fast pace with rain as evidence
and call again for the authenticity of people and places.
Every word is spoken and observed conserved
All to ask for your explanation of every nation.
Written in the sky, cloud peaks through you and I answer lies
the waterside byside, forever young beside the bride and the boy who has his own son.
After you there is no other one. I have learned to count on and on.
You’re in my heart, your in like I want,
somewhere before our confidence rot.
I left you too, you left my heart a soft spot, tons of time to bring me back to me,
my hands are tied around a tight knot,
not knowing you and losing almost in the crosswalk, the beach talk,
all silence men talk always the gender first and then what tired talk.
If I sensed your afar, far away I miss your love and energy. I guess
there is no way to get through this without the richochet.
A thousand pieces and the fierce way.
Three chances I lost two before I made my way home to help myself to what was left.
I was left a-sail.
Wasting my time returning back from hence I once came.
Into your eyes I dreamed I would bathe if ever I was away from this place,
why wait, ember empty 80 000 miles away.
Lest we should look this way lest we should lift our face,
with heart that feel and voices that say:
I love you I want to die in your arms I want you to be my love forever and ever
this world is made of love.
I am so lonely, I wish you understood why we still wait


Day 21: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that … incorporates wild, surreal images. Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense, but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.” I’ve been cranking out multiple poems today on my day off to try to catch up, and I’m running dry on wordlets. This prompt made me think of a poem I wrote many years ago that fit the description, so I pulled it out and here it is. Yep I cheated
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Um, like, a poem

So did I ever tell you, um
Its kind of hard for me to say, but
I mean, I still think about you sometimes, well
Not often, like
I mean not all the time or anything, its just
Its been a fuck of a long time, you know
And its strange that, you know
I still dream about you, fuck
I just think its weird, that’s all


Day 20: “Try to write a poem grounded in language as it is spoken – not necessarily the grand, dramatic speech of a monologue or play, but the messy, fractured, slangy way people speak in real life”
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Al made it up (an Abecedarian)

Al made it up, originally
He told it to Barry, just to be silly
Cait overheard, that made it a trinity
’til she told Dane, who took it quite literally
Elsie was next, and listening acidly
said “I’m telling Fiona”, who was in the vicinity
Gale was there too, which led to turbidity
(She dated Hector and it affected him personally)
Ishmael knew Hector and pestered persistently
until Hector told him, and then they told Jiminy
Kasia who passively judged unconditionally
told old Leticia who’s responsibility
was always to Marc who worked unofficially
for Nelly who networked the television industry
so Orson the journalist wrote it up publicly
Pria precipitately prattled incessantly
and questioned Quintella incomprehensibly
until Raoul roared “Stop! I know unequivocally
Sampson can answer this idiosyncrasy”
Tala stepped in at this point surreptitiously
To speak for Umberto, who was drawn in unwittingly
Vara was vouching for Tala equivocally
(Weston had questioned her reliability)
Xander said “Slander affects us collectively!”
Yolanda agreed and called Zane for posterity
Zane thought that Al might enlighten the ministry
So they all went to Al, who just shrugged inauspiciously …

Day 19: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write an abecedarian poem – a poem in which the word choice follows the words/order of the alphabet”
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Haunted by the ghosts that still live

My phone directory
is long with many names
of people I don’t even know
But among them
The family I do know
A touch away yet
mourned already
And haunting my
empty room
as I sit here alone
Staring at the screen
in silence


Day 18: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write an elegy of your own, one in which the abstraction of sadness is communicated not through abstract words, but physical detail.” Every time there is a death in my family I swear I will reach out more to the family that still lives and yet … this is the saddest thing in the world.
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