NaPoWriMo 29: Watchful

Like ice
they reflect the world
from their polished surface
keeping hidden the dark depths
of the rivers within
spectres like wisps of cloud
traveling lightly in their mirrors
be they storm, saphire,
water, lightning, tea
in color
Thoughts flitting across the surface
like flat stones flipping
across a lake
In dark nights
I see the stars reflected
in yours.

 

I have a book of poetry which is illustrated with quilted pictures and artwork in cloth and fabric, and one of my favorite poems from it is „How to be a friend“ by Pat Lowery Collins, because it is so on the point – short and clear. The problem is, there are no concrete nouns in it. So I chose instead another poem I hold dearly, which was written for me, and from it, the word eyes, to work with today’s prompt.

Heute sollten wir uns aus einem Lieblingsgedicht ein konkretes Nomen aussuchen, zu diesem brainstormen und daraus ein neues Gedicht formen. Mein Wort ist „Augen“ (also auf Englisch ;) ) aus einem für mich geschriebenen Gedicht, das aber auch auf Englisch ist. Außerdem hab ich das Wort bei der Bildersuche im Web als Anfrage genutzt und daraus weitere Ideen gezogen.

NaPoWriMo 28: Tired Clouds

Breathe in breathe out
mind’s a cloud
thoughts so loud
all a crowd
days are so long
full of song
full of wrong
full of time
not quite, but rhyme
write to clear clouds
inside it shouts
stop! – Go to bed
eyes are dead
tired – day’s
end now – ways
still to walk but
not now – now what?
sleep. . .

 

Today’s prompt was to write a skeltonic, that is a poem without a clear rhyme scheme and using dipodic verse. At the moment I am really tired, so I guess that shows in my poem – the short lines help though.

Momentan bin ich einfach nur sehr müde, das spiegelt sich wohl auch im Gedicht. Aber die Gedichtform, die heute vorgestellt wurde, passt auch irgendwie dazu: kurze Verse, zwei Betonungen pro Vers (hoffe, dass ich das hinbekommen habe…) und kein klares Reimschema.

Childhood Tastes

My childhood tasted like
peanut butter and honey
melting on toast and
in my mouth
mingling with cherries
under hot italian sun

My childhood tasted like
salt on daddy’s skin
When he came home
from biking
we would cling to him
and lick it off his arms

My childhood tasted like
poppyseed-cake once a year
marking the beginning of a new one
with sweet paradise cream
and poppy seeds stuck
between teeth

My childhood tasted like
Dentinox on hurting teeth
Camomile sweetness and
that something else
took the hurt away

My childhood tasted like
gatorade and snow
winter slushies tangy
artificial sweetness
collected in plastic cups
then straight under the tap

My childhood tasted like
„Plätzchen“-dough
special Christmas Cookies
were the best before baking,
together with that flavor
of mischief and secrecy

 

Today we were prompted to write about taste. Actually this morning I had the taste of rain in my mouth (guess what? It’s raining here ;) ) – but then something smelled like one of my childhood tastes and I decided to write about that instead.

Heute war das Thema Geschmack. Darüber hatte ich noch nicht viel geschrieben, normalerweise sind ja visuelle und auditive Eindrücke stärker. Trotzdem gibt es einige Geschmäcker, die für mich mit Erinnerung verbunden sind, mit Kindheit. Darüber habe ich heute geschrieben.

NaPoWriMo 26: Why chalk?

Layers of rock
are books to me
classifications of life
they speak of ages past
eonothems and erathems long gone
Ordovician newly-born plants
speak of first landgreens
Silurian fish leave me
jaw-open, as they populate the seas
Permian concludes in a catastrophe
but flies fly first
I could continue lecturing,
but that is not what bothers me
still one layer remains
a mystery to me
It’s mainly what we call
codedmixtemium when
apes must have ruled that planet
scraps of what might have been
first technology show up – held together
by thin metal hair and flat shapes
a puzzle we have yet to solve
But what puzzles me must – personally –
is the chalk
It doesn’t belong there
should be cretaceous
down where huge reptilian bones are buried
first delicate tree leaves reside
and the coccoliths and dinoflagellates
which bloomed in the water
and became chalk
much later
Especially not pressed into these condensed
cylindrical forms
flaking off at touch
– some kind of early cultural object,
decoration or jewelry?
Sometimes a time machine would be useful
for us archaeologists specialised on
Earth

Today’s prompt was to write about an object from the present from the point of view of a future scientist. Since I was at university at the time of reading the prompt I chose one of the first things I noticed: a piece of chalk. Thanks to a friend of mine studying environmental geology, who helped me out with some of the geological information!

Heute sollten wir aus der Perspektive eines Wissenschaftlers der Zukunft über ein Objekt aus der Gegenwart schreiben und da ich gerade in der Uni war, als ich auf NaPoWriMo.net nach der heutigen Idee geschaut habe, war es eben ein Stück Kreide, das mir ins Auge gefallen ist. Vielen Dank an einen Freund, der mir mit Infos zur Geologie ausgeholfen hat!

NaPoWriMo 25: Purse of Words

Carmine – the name of a book
2.7 x 12.5 x 17.5 in centimeters
nearly three years in time
worlds in words
my life in bits and pieces,
traces of ink
It was made to look ancient
imitation of a 1688 binding
metal clasp hugging the pages
red ribbon marks the time and place
Time and I made it look old
worn corners and blots are witnesses
of a journey – mine.
It was and is a place to keep
words of worthiness, secrets, memories
my purse of words
It was my diary when paper was rare,
a physical vessel for my emotions
when nothing else was there
to pour them into,
the ear to hear those whispered thoughts
I hardly dare admit to myself
dreams, touches, fears
encoded in old symbols
making it hard to read
even for me
Pressed flowers between pages
resemble physical reminders of places
I loved
Notes, ideas and empty pages –
the pauses –
complete the story – mine
Pages end,
but the story will go on.

When given the prompt to write about small personal spaces, I first thought to write about my actual purse. Then I went through it and next to coins, old receipts and ids, I found a poem given only to me. And I decided I’d rather write about my book of poetry, the beautiful book I write in.

Als Anregung gab es heute einen Verweis auf das Buch „The Poetics of Space“ (lose übersetzt „Die Poesie des Raums/des Orts“) und die Idee über kleine definierte Räume zu schreiben. Einige Beispiele waren auch genannt: Die Geldbörse, das (Kinder)zimmer… Zunächst wollte ich gleich über Ersteres schreiben und habe mich mit dem Inhalt meines Geldbeutels näher auseinander gesetzt und neben Münzen, Scheinen, einem alten Ausweis und Belegen auch ein Gedicht nur für mich gefunden, zerlesen und fragil, aber noch da. Und habe beschlossen, lieber über mein Gedichtbuch zu schreiben, das einiges mehr an Poesie für mich enthält.

Zweisamkeit – Gemeinsamzeit

Zweisamkeit – Gemeinsamzeit hätte ich gern
mit dir zu zweit, doch du bist fern
Tage rinnen wie Sand
durch die Hand
Zeit
allein ist vorbei
bald sind wir dann zwei
und haben gemeinsam alle Zeit der Welt
Zweisamkeit – Gemeinsamzeit, die uns zusammen hält

Dieses Gedicht ist quasi ein Nachtrag, ich hatte am 18. April erzählt, wie ich auf das Thema zum Neologismen-Gedicht gekommen bin. Dieses hier ist zum damaligen Prompt zu „visual poetry“ entstanden.

I mentioned this poem as my inspiration for neologisms a few days back, on April 18th. Back then I found the words by „leafing“ through e-mails… I like the thought of poetry inspiring poetry inspiring poetry and so on.

NaPoWriMo 24: Thread of Scribblings

We all do it, don’t we?
Students do it
Margins full of
small drawings, sketches, hearts,
sometimes just colored squares
or weird towers of objects and people.
Coders do it
Invisible comments of penguins
and cats made of slashes
and dots and greater thans,
lingering below the surface of
webpages and your favorite program.
Chefs do it
Recipe stains become wild
or cute little monsters
and symbols representing the tastiness
of a dish start to grow
more and more complicated.
Gardeners do it
Little twigs become stick men
or earth worm parcours
while some of their sketches
bloom only months later.
Adults in general, they do it
Smiles and frowns on notes and
in calendars; scribblings and complex
circular constructions evolve
during official phone calls.
We all do it!
Sometimes words get lonely and
we need to give them company.
So why should it have been any different
anytime – even if paper and ink were
still precious goods?
Why shouldn’t they have?
Their drawings – so much more elaborate,
but then again: They had so much more time
to write and
their work was intended to last –
still combine the same topics
weirdness, some devils and sexual organs,
occasional ladies and other ideas thrown in.
Ariadne’s thread of Scribblings across the ages.

marginalia

Today’s prompted topic was to write poems inspired by works of art, more specifically, the marginalia of medieval „books“. Somehow I stayed more on the meta side of things.

Heute war das Thema, von dem wir uns zu Beginn der letzen Woche des NaPoWriMos Inspiration erhofften, Marginalien, also Randnotizen oder Bilder, v.a. in Mittelalterlichen Manuskripten. Auch wenn ich einzelne der Bilder witzig oder besonders interessant fand, hat mich meine Muse doch zum Blick auf das große Ganze gelenkt.