NaPoWriMo 2.11: After Anacreon or, Loaf and Whine

After Anacreontics

Hangover evidence…

Day 11: the challenge to write something Anacreon would approve of. Well, I’m not sure how much he wrote about hangovers, as it sounds from reading on him that his work was about wine and love (rather than – as mine is – whining and loafing, the day after).

Still – I’ve kept to (one idea of) Anacreontic verse form of seven syllables to a line and in couplets. Which I don’t claim to make it any classier. Ah well.

 

After Anacreon

or, Loaf and Whine

 

Ah the rustic thrill of it:

from my flat-thumbed palm, you lick

the sugared ibuprofen

which last night demands, again.

‘Oh lover wine!’  Whine we friends,

as you whinny from both ends.

NaPoWriMo 8: An Ottova Rima

Image

There’ll be plenty of this going on above the Atlantic in years to come, it seems…

Yes, I’m still running on something of a poetry-deficit – but I will catch up by the end of the month and have 30 poems!

The 8th challenge was to write an Ottova Rima; a formal type of poem in iambic pentameter, with the rhyme-scheme abababcc. I didn’t know what to write mine about and then heard a piece on Radio 4earlier discussing some climate researchers’ work about air turbulence. They have concluded that, as climate change develops/progresses/worsens, so will the bumpy ride across the Atlantic (ironic perhaps, as aviation exhaust fumes are no doubt a massive contributing factor!) due to the changing Gulf Stream…

So I wrote this Ottova Rima with aeroplane imagery, perhaps about not knowing what to write about, or something – I don’t know, but it’s another one down!

 

Flight

 

At thousands of ideas above this sea

My pen: the fluid action of a vein.

This isobar controls no more than we

Control the sky’s intention with a plane,

Can regulate its breath. But could it be

The pulsing of a heart’s soft hurricane

Becomes the pen’s propulsion, roaring loud

To pierce the floating ink within a cloud?

Which Winter?

A snow-dome iris, cracking through the screen…

This spell of wintry weather reminded me of a poem I wrote and put on some Christmas cards some years back – which is very wintry indeed…I think it was mainly to do with playing around with the image-paraphernalia of snow and wintry landscapes; so perhaps it’s not my most successful poem – but I hope it paints interesting pictures, at least (and follows a sonnet form too – good old ABABCDCDEFEFGG – as a technical exercise!).

Still working on my second sci-poem of the week, which I’m hoping to pop up later – but in the mean time, here is my snowy sonnet, entitled:

 

Which Winter?

 

There is a blizzard in our eyes sometimes;

A snow-dome iris, cracking through the screen.

Our cabins locked within a shaking mime

As giant flakes engulf the fish-eyed scene.

 

There is ice within our smile some days;

Sharp fragments dripping from our roof top lips.

The mountains mouth an O, the silence plays

On plastic pine tree pivots where Earth tips.

 

There is a frost across our minds some nights

Which petrifies the valleys of our thought.

It hushes colour, crushes light and slights

Our source; stills the singing of the stream.

 

Yet constant is the chorus of the flame

Each cabin’s candle dances, seeks the same.