NaPoWriMo 29: Killings

We all kill, don’t we?

He signs that paper,
calling bombs into fire.

She writes that line of code,
carrying the drone to its target.

He writes that textmessage,
burying remaining hopes
under lame excuses.

She plods on and on
and on – ignoring the beauty
by the roadside until there is none
left.

We kill ourselves, our pleasure,
our innocence, our joy,
our faith in the good of the world
How often have we stood
with the world in a bag
by our side,
waiting for a subway?

It’s hard to bear:
thinking about all those
killings, so much lost, traces
blown away like sand
on a soft spring breeze . . .
Take a step back
Pass them by
possibilities to die
and look instead
for magic
in the narcissi?

 

Today’s prompt was to write a poem inspired by one of Sylvia Plath from the Plath Poetry Project’s calendar. I chose „Pheasant“ from April 7. I was listening to music while trying to find a poem to speak to me, and one singer sounded like a friend from the US, Sylvia, who also makes music. So I had two „Sylvias“ lined up, and I incorporated the song, „A step you can’t take back“, into the poem, too, into verses 16 – 19.

Heute sollten wir ein Gedicht von Sylvia Plath aus dem Kalender des Plath Poetry Projekts als Inspiration verwenden. Meine Wahl fiel auf „Pheasant“. Während ich noch auf der Suche nach einem Gedicht war, das zu mir spricht, habe ich Musik gehört und eines der Lieder klang, als würde Sylvia, eine Bekannte aus den USA, es singen. Also hatte ich quasi zwei Sylvias auf meiner Seite. Das Lied, das eigentlich Keira Knightley singt ist dann auch ins Gedicht eingewandert, in die Verse 16 bis 19.

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NaPoWriMo 28: Postcard to Someone

I saw you on campus. You were sitting there by that small lake, doing nothing but looking up into the sun. And everyone around you was bowed over their screens, squinting to see irrelevant words, belittled by the sun. Or they were walking, heading somewhere out of the sun, needing to reach someplace different. I could see your lips moving, singing a song I couldn’t hear, and you looked so happy, sitting there in the sun. I stood in the shadows, wanting to tell you how beautiful you are, shining inside out like the sun. And just as I am preparing to step into the sunlight, stepping up to you, unbiting my lips to speak to you, you get up. You brush a strand of hair behind your left ear, and bounce away through the sunny afternoon. I stay behind.

sun

Today’s prompt at NaPoWriMo.net was to write a prose poem, suggesting to write a post-card type poem.

Heute gab es als Inspiration die Aufforderung ein Prosagedicht in Form einer Postkarte zu schreiben.

NaPoWriMo 23: Hum and Rush

Sound travels in winding paths
Some nights cars blend
into a rush
like endless streams of water
ebbing and flowing
Some nights are near silent
just the wind humming
on the frames of open windows
breathing into our rooms.
Sound may reach us – on winding paths –
or not.

 

Today’s prompt was to incorporate sound into our poems. I’ve started sleeping with a partly open window again, and even though we have a busy motorway just half a block away, sometimes nights are quiet and sometimes you can hear the cars really well. My guess is, that it depends on the direction of the wind.

Heute war die „Aufgabe“ Ton/Geräusch/Laut/Klang (Es gibt irgendwie zu viele Wörter dafür im Deutschen) in unser Gedicht einzubauen. Am Wochenende hat es sich fast wie Sommer angefühlt und das bedeutet, dass ich meine Wohnung ziemlich aufheizt, ich habe also wieder begonnen mit offenen Fenster zu schlafen. Dabei ist mir aufgefallen, dass es manchmal sehr leise ist, obwohl eine Autobahn ganz in der Nähe ist und manchmal hört man das Rauschen der Autos sehr laut.

 

NaPoWriMo 15: Two sides

He stood there in awe
looking at a bright red ball
fiery above the flat horizon.
The beauty struck him,
reminded him of what he had lost:
a future.

He stopped just for one second
a small ball rolling across his path
before setting the last house on fire.
Flames licked the night sky,
all he truly had in his hands:
a blood-red glow.

 

 

Maureens optional prompt for today was to humanize a villain while still letting them stay evil. I don’t really believe in evil, I think everyone has a dark side, so while I had lots of (mostly historical) ideas, I chose to write about a faceless person.

Der Ideenanreiz für heute war es, einen Bösewicht menschlich darstellen, während er trotzdem noch böse ist. Ich glaube nicht, dass man das so schwarz und weiß sehen kann, sondern dass jeder eine dunnkle und eine helle Seite in sich hat. Also habe ich über eine gesichtslose Person geschrieben, obwohl ich auch genug historisch inspirierte andere Ideen hatte.

NaPoWriMo 13: -ASAP

We run in circles all around
What do we try to reach?

When goals we stake are much too high
How can we try to reach?

As we go on, and farther up
Where do we try to reach?

On time is what a moment is
as late as it may take

 

Today’s prompt at NaPoWriMo.net was to write a poem in which the words of a common phrase are turned upside-down. I chose „as soon as possible“ and turned it into „as late as it may take“.

Die heutige Anregung auf NaPoWriMo.net war, eine bekannte Phrase auf den Kopf zu stellen und umzudrehen.

NaPoWriMo 10: Hour glass

I sleep – 6 is the dawn of the day
but my day starts later. Farther east
she awakes, shivering from
a bad dream, awakes at 7 to
a day that’s not so much different. He sings
to find a partner, singing for
the possibility of a nest.
9 means maths, his favorite subject,
brooding over systems of equations
until solution finds him. The wind
does not know time, but just blows
on and on. The sun knows when it is
high in the sky, it blinds a lonely
wanderer, passing through. Noon: a game
of tag played as children do. Monkeys
– probably among the cleanest of their kind –
take a bath in Yamanouchi for the start of
the afternoon. It’s a warm season so
neighbors meet at 2 start preparing the
soil for the season. Chats between shovels and
patches at Veg Out. Turtles drifting at 3.
Afternooon Tea at 4, 5 nationalities around a table
for a snack after a day of work, then a walk
up the hill to see Lake Taupo. 5-p.m.-waves lick
into Talava Cave, little by little carving
into the limestone. A fish swallows a piece of
pacific plastic, unknowingly crossing the line
that separates 6 from 7. Deer imprint their tracks
into Alaskan snow, in the diminishing sun.
„Just one more story, Daddy“, she pleads,
while he takes mom as an excuse:
„She said to go to sleep at 9.“ A group of friends
enjoy a drink of wine to celebrate
the first warm day
this spring – 10 is the perfect time. Lake Superior reflects
the moon, a waning crescent, rippling through the dark.
And midnight rings another day of poetry,
another challenge,
yet another prompt. Music blaring into the night at 1,
sweat running down the backs of dancers, glistening
on faces. Glaciers stand still in the dark
while further south and an hour later a warm wind
blows. 4 is the hour of early rising, like bakers bathing
their hands in dough. A colorful bird soars in the jungle
and the leaves are dripping with humidity. Something
touched me in a dream, I wake up to breathe,
to blink into the dawn of this moment.

 

Today’s prompt over at NaPoWriMo.net was to write a poem of simultaneity. I had this image in my mind of clock hands clicking into place all over the world.

Heute ging es darum, ein Gleichzeitigkeits-Gedicht zu schreiben. Zeit ist relativ, und wenn ich schlafen gehe, wachen andere Leute auf. In meinem Kopf hatte ich dieses Bild von Momentaufnahmen aus verschiedenen Zeitzonen und daraus ist dann dieses Gedicht geworden.

NaPoWriMo 8: summer blue

Breathe in the night air
and close your eyes.

Can you feel summer touching
your cheek, crushed grass
on a breeze that carries
the night’s warm embrace
of the day.

Can you hear the stars
singing midnight-blue
ravens carry their messages
back and forth
hidden by the light of streets
and cities below.

Can you smell nature reclaiming
her place, wind that feels like submersion
in a summernight river
carries the woods and the water
to my face.

Open your eyes wide and walk
through the night
breathing

 

Today Maureen’s optional prompt was to write a poem in which magical things occur. Walking home from the bus, I felt somewhat embraced by night in a way that you could call magical, and this is what this poem stems from.

Ein Gedicht mit Magie darin, so lautete das heutige Thema auf NaPoWriMo.net. Schon einige Male sind meine Gedichte in übernatürliche Sphären abgewandert, und heute war es die laue fast-schon-Sommernacht, die mich entführt hat.