“Blackout poetry” was the prompt for NaPoWriMo day 2 by @V. Walker on Substack. I was studying for a workshop I’m attending in Paris and found this poem on page 9 of Ruthless Winnicot by Sally Swartz.

Rewrite by Angela van Son

we had kittens and they circled around and around

in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes

covering the picture window and

my brother, always smiling, wanting us all

to be happy, told me, ‘be happy Hetty!’

and he was right: it’s better to be happy if you

can

but my mother continued to beat him and me several times a week while

raging inside her 6-foot-two frame because she couldn’t

understand what was attacking her from within.

my brother, poor cat,

wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a

week, telling me to be happy: ‘Hetty, smile!

why don’t you ever smile?’

and then he would smile, to show me how, and it was the

saddest smile I ever saw

one day the kittens died, all five of them,

they floated on the water, on their sides, their

eyes still open,

and when my mother got home she threw them to the dog

there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my brother

smiled

“Rewrite a classic” was a prompt for NaPoWriMo day 1 by @V. Walker on Substack. I didn’t change a lot in the rewrite. I wanted to keep all the poetic qualities Bukowski put in, and also the tragic dynamic of the poem. Believe it or not, even changing little was a puzzle. It was an interesting way to connect to the poem and learn. Here comes the original poem…

“A Smile To Remember” by Charles Bukowski

we had goldfish and they circled around and around

in the bowl on the table near the heavy drapes

covering the picture window and

my mother, always smiling, wanting us all

to be happy, told me, ‘be happy Henry!’

and she was right: it’s better to be happy if you

can

but my father continued to beat her and me several times a week while

raging inside his 6-foot-two frame because he couldn’t

understand what was attacking him from within.

my mother, poor fish,

wanting to be happy, beaten two or three times a

week, telling me to be happy: ‘Henry, smile!

why don’t you ever smile?’

and then she would smile, to show me how, and it was the

saddest smile I ever saw

one day the goldfish died, all five of them,

they floated on the water, on their sides, their

eyes still open,

and when my father got home he threw them to the cat

there on the kitchen floor and we watched as my mother

smiled

Breathe in
Breathe out
Take it on the chin
Flat out
It will cut the skin
No doubt

Let him win
Cop-out
Breathe in
No doubt
He will grin
Breathe out

Narcissine
Far out
You within
Spaced out

Pull in
Lash out
Be sure to hit him
Knockout

Breathe in, breathe out

The prompt on napowrimo.net:

“And here’s our optional prompt for the day. Like music, poetry offers us a way to play with and experience sound. This can be through meter, rhyme, varying line lengths, assonance, alliteration, and other techniques that call attention not just to the meaning of words, but the way they echo and resonate against each other. For a look at some of these sound devices in action, read Robert Hillyer’s poem, Fog. It uses both rhyme and uneven line lengths to create a slow, off-kilter rhythm that heightens the poem’s overall ominousness. Today we’d like to challenge you to try writing a poem of your own that uses rhyme, but without adhering to specific line lengths. For extra credit, reference a very specific sound, like the buoy in Hillyer’s poem.”

In darkness a seed of light awaits
In the light a core of fire awaits

In the core of fire you’ll find the heat
In the heat a ball of energy awaits

In the energy you’ll find my love
In love a heart of passion awaits

In passion the seed of creation is found
In creation a spark of divinity awaits

In divinity light and dark are found
In you, Angela the seed of light awaits

Photo by Cherry Laithang on Unsplash

Here’s the prompt from napowrimo.net:

The ghazal (pronounced kind of like “huzzle,” with a particularly husky “h” at the beginning) is a form that originates in Arabic poetry, and is often used for love poems. Ghazals commonly consist of five to fifteen couplets that are independent from each other but are nonetheless linked abstractly in their theme; and more concretely by their form. And what is that form? In English ghazals, the usual constraints are that:
• the lines all have to be of around the same length (though formal meter/syllable-counts are not employed); and
• both lines of the first couplet end on the same word or words, which then form a refrain that is echoed at the end of each succeeding couplet.
Another aspect of the traditional ghazal form that has become popular in English is having the poet’s own name (or a reference to the poet – like a nickname) appear in the final couplet.
Want an example? Try Patricia Smith’s “Hip-Hop Ghazal.”
Now try writing your own ghazal that takes the form of a love song – however you want to define that. Observe the conventions of the repeated word, including your own name (or a reference to yourself) and having the stanzas present independent thoughts along a single theme – a meditation, not a story.

liquid treasure

tanned taste gurgles

at the back of your throat

a tart trickle

tickles the tonsils

toothsome

irreverent

Day 6 had a challenging prompt at napowrimo.net:

Today’s prompt (optional, as always) veers slightly away from our ekphrastic theme. To get started, pick a number between 1 and 10. Got your number? Okay! Now scroll down until you come to a chart. Find the row with your number. Then, write a poem describing the taste of the item in Column A, using the words that appear in that row in Column B and C. For bonus points, give your poem the title of the word that appears in Column A for your row, but don’t use that word in the poem itself.

When musicians play terribly

I revert to improvisatory screaming

as a monument

to good taste

I’m keeping it short today, I’m exhausted from working in our communal garden. This was the prompt on napowrimo.net:

Finally, today’s (optional) prompt is inspired by musical notation, and particularly those little italicized –and often Italian – instructions you’ll find over the staves in sheet music, like con allegro or andante. First, pick a notation from the first column below. Then, pick a musical genre from the second column. Finally, pick at least one word from the third column. Now write a poem that takes inspiration from your musical genre and notation, and uses the word or words you picked from the third column.

The question how to procure your David is for another poem. Let’s just say you’ve got him and you found a place to live for him. My guess is you’ll put him in the living room, maybe next to the dinner table. Somewhere where you can admire him from all his gorgeous sides.

Will you have to keep yourself from pinching his chiselled cheeks when you walk past him to set the table? Will you imagine him listening in on your dinner conversations? Maybe adding an early 16^th century perspective on world wide trade tariffs? Will you make sure your after dinner gaze doesn’t rest on his reproductive marble organ? Will you address him when you’re home alone, just like you talk to your cat?

The question how to clean David will have to wait for another poem. For now, let’s just hug him and admire his stance.

On day 4 napowrimo.net challenged us to write a poem about living with a piece of art.

I love a good tool as much as anyone else, I like to touch them, see the shape of them, and feel their potential when I hold them in my hand. I like their little details full of promise of shaping the world into a new image.

I like clay modelling tools, rasps and files, chisels and sculpting knives. I like loop tools, wire armature, calipers and bench grinders. Yet I’m not a sculptor.

My instruments are blunt, bland. You can’t touch them, feel the texture of their surface, or wrap your hands around them. The shape doesn’t inform you of what they’re capable of. They hold no weight, they don’t smell, you can’t see any user marks.

But they are versatile. You can take them anywhere, and use them again and again. They need sharpening nor cleaning, and are always ready for use. You can use them anywhere, and no one will even notice. I carry 26 of them wherever I go, and discreetly put them to work to shape things into reality.

Can you imagine how long it would take to carefully sculpt all the separate letters used here?

For day 3 napowrimo.net challenged us “to write a poem that obliquely explains why you are a poet and not some other kind of artist”. I share my NaPoWriMo poems both on Substack and WordPress.

Here’s to you, Penelope!

May your burial shroud unravel slowly

as slow as dental plaque decays teeth

May your suitors dream long nights of GTA 6

so they wake up anaesthetically late

exhausted from their pixelated quest

May time itself slow down to darkspeed

so your fingertips heal before you touch that loom again

Here’s to justified delay!

For Odysseus is a slow traveller

Photo by Divyanshi Verma on Unsplash

The prompt at napowrimo.net was to write a poem that directly addresses someone, and that includes a made-up word, an odd/unusual simile, a statement of “fact,” and something that seems out of place in time.