NaPo 11: Role-Playing

i'm going to try the haibun for tomorrow, but Wednesday's my late night, so here's just a little dodoitsu, inspired by an RPG program.


Life, death, and all their glories--
ev'ry bold misadventure
Forever contingent on
A roll of the dice

NaPo 9: Forgotten songs and NaPo 10: Stage Fright

I um... forgot yesterday. So, two poems today.  Short, but still here.  A rondelet and weird little free-verse.

Forgotten Songs
Forgotten songs
That whisper in the summer leaves
Forgotten songs
That gossip of remembered wrongs
That sneak along the snowy eaves
to find the one who still believes
Forgotten songs.

Stage Fright
Throat locked.
Hands clasped.
Read in monotonic blasts.
Get through to the end of your part.
Just read and read and don't look up and
keep your voice level and low and whatever you do
Reveal
Nothing.

NaPo 8: Limerick

One day in this year's NaPoWriMo
She that a poem did she owe...
She was stuck for a line,
with just imperfect rhyme
With just fifteen minutes to go!s

Okay, yes.  It was a busy day and I overslept to boot.

NaPo 7: From the abandoned daughter to the family historian

Again, using the prompt, to have a weak part of your personality interact with a stronger part -- in this case... well, the title is it.  And that's all I'll say.


From the abandoned daughter to the family historian
Make your trees, if you have to
Bytes and megabytes of

name after name after name--
dates and documenation
limbs of your glorious roots
trees twining in the forest of your soul.

I know the truth, and so do you,
as deeply buried as you might keep it.

But you still pretend!
Fake belief that somehow
curious relatives will find you, and
gamble their comfortable lives
for a stranger they never wanted, following
dangerous trails left in spit,
blood and pixels, straight to your door.

Can you really be such an idiot?
Can you really think they'll forgive you,
coming into the light when they prefer you in the dark?
Like you really even exist to them at all!
Sneering high society does not want a
tale of sordid, secret
liaisons, better swept under history's rug.

Bringing your secret life
to the attention of anyone...
nothing good can come of it.
Trashy talk shows may like it,
hopeful for  scandal, be we--they--are of a
high order, too high for such a gauche reveal.
So hoard your little lists of pretended relatives,
but heed reality: you are not welcome in your own space.

NaPo 6: Insomnia

Trying the NaPo challenge today to use line-lengths that feel outside my comfort zone.

Insomnia
Dark
Quiet
Cat asleep
Clock ticking
Thoughts running through my mind on rattly tracks
Wild mine cars picking up and dropping off
What did I say wrong today and where did I leave my socks and is my dress ruined and did everyone notice the holes in my stockings and if I haven't heard about the job does it mean I have no hope and
Upstairs,
Someone stirring.
Pipes rush.
Feet shuffle.
Still awake.
My feet itch like they want to dance
My face twitches.
My hands lace behind my head and I stare at the ceiling and wonder if there are spiders in the wall, or ants, or whatever phantom thing my cat sometimes hears when she bats at a blank spot, and do they come out at night when I close my eyes and is it because I'm a terrible housekeeper and what if everyone finds out that there are things in the walls and
Headlights.
Splashing over my window
Late night visits ending.
I look.
Blinds are down (not that they do any good on my side)
I go over
Raise them
Leaves rustle and wind blows over grass but I can't see the mountains and maybe it's raining and maybe I should have air maybe air would help maybe cold will put me to sleep and I am so tired but my legs are twitching and my heart is skipping and am I going to have a heart attack in my sleep and I wonder if I'm hyperactiveattentiondeficitdisorder or some other thing they've invented since I was a child and
Cat.
Bumping into my ankles.
Nipping at me to get treats.
I'm sleeping now, I say.  Can't you see I'm sleeping?
Another nip.
I ball my fists tight to stop the tingles.
Turn on the light.
Give up.

NaPo 5: A cheat

A Cheat
I feel like a cheat
But I have so much work left...
Only a haiku

And then another
Because it takes far too long
To keep these things short

I don't have the time
To abbreviate my thoughts
And still keep them clear

There's still so much work!
A presentation to do
Put off forever.

So I can't write poems --
Or is that first line six beats?
I don't really know...

Counting syllables
Is an addictive pursuit
But I don't have time!

I can't... cannot... do
This ridiculous night's work
After the lock-out

But if I do not
Then I'll be forced to concede
On only day five.

Napo 4: Loneliness

Working off the NaPo prompt, to use concrete imagery for an abstract concept.

Loneliness
The clock ticking at midnight.
Lights on, humming low
but loud in the silence
Cat sleeping
dreaming and twitching her toes

The keyboard is sticky
And a little squeaky as I hit each key
My phone beeps
Squawks
Video game feet kllp-kllp-kllping
down the Hawkins paths
YouTube playing
CocoLegallyBlondeHairJCSCinemaSinsReactionsReviewsPolitics
Whatever
Keep it quiet enough
not to wake the neighbors
But it doesn't matter otherwise

Fast food boxes and drinks
Scattered on the desk
I haven't used the stove for days
(though I actually like to cook)

Will I go to bed soon? 
After the day's poem?

I don't care, and neither does anyone else.

The clock continues ticking
On its way to one.

And two.

The lights hum.

And I finish.

I have a game to return to.

And a sleeping cat.

And maybe, eventually, sleep.