tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41674181081118211792024-03-14T09:31:46.782-07:00Summer BluesMy poetry, told digitallyNatasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.comBlogger417125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-65304404506004959132023-04-30T17:32:00.003-07:002023-04-30T17:35:47.404-07:00Palinodes<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVa3CdWniRtbZ0GUbkP7M1Z0hBsG5peJPVTxjAIwaazytnyItMlh-JsyN6T_eDwgAJM1I9xUa5-ffWEYtXSm324Km3CkYXYV1X43DXvClO3Ke4BwNOt8g0bGi0pkC2ARtNwlOWMhvFyHbmjghuSXhXFyeYqvA9RTjP9LmS0FfVYRuerlYqNvMlplRb/s270/OIG%20(29).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVa3CdWniRtbZ0GUbkP7M1Z0hBsG5peJPVTxjAIwaazytnyItMlh-JsyN6T_eDwgAJM1I9xUa5-ffWEYtXSm324Km3CkYXYV1X43DXvClO3Ke4BwNOt8g0bGi0pkC2ARtNwlOWMhvFyHbmjghuSXhXFyeYqvA9RTjP9LmS0FfVYRuerlYqNvMlplRb/s1600/OIG%20(29).jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-thirty-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 30</a> - some palinodes to what I wrote earlier in the month</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Write a poem they won’t understand</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">Hide it.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Bury it under exotic words and fashionable</p><p style="text-align: center;">figures of speech,</p><p style="text-align: center;">Shower them with similes.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Make your language as dense as a forest.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Surround them with a soundwall of </p><p style="text-align: center;">alliteration. Resort to repetition, if all is lost.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Whatever you do,</p><p style="text-align: center;">make sure they won’t understand.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Hide it.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Hide it well.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">This poem retracts views expressed <a href="https://natasa-summerblues.blogspot.com/2023/04/the-poetic-alphabet.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="https://natasa-summerblues.blogspot.com/2023/04/what-makes-good-poem.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5fLGWWoWfzkKhukHRckH-ZIk2kHHQaN0GNEHQ4Ayq9nUOebox0koaAWENuyTkWLBVu0-hX0-9jQ9S1hcQIx7MXtu-fvs5Q3B7_Eu-aRavc7XPXx3Pe-h6VA-ATet0Hypmvbehi82bfbxhFtOQ_R4z31d5YfRN3Hg8ZYwZ13VldkF_JSDcV3hwdQZ/s270/OIG%20(12).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5fLGWWoWfzkKhukHRckH-ZIk2kHHQaN0GNEHQ4Ayq9nUOebox0koaAWENuyTkWLBVu0-hX0-9jQ9S1hcQIx7MXtu-fvs5Q3B7_Eu-aRavc7XPXx3Pe-h6VA-ATet0Hypmvbehi82bfbxhFtOQ_R4z31d5YfRN3Hg8ZYwZ13VldkF_JSDcV3hwdQZ/s1600/OIG%20(12).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">What It Might Become</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><h4 style="text-align: center;">The Egg</h4><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">That morning song, your time to rise.</p><p style="text-align: center;">That midnight call, an ill omen.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Those wings, a shadow from above.</p><p style="text-align: center;">A feather, that you find</p><p style="text-align: center;">and keep for luck.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h4 style="text-align: center;">The Magic</h4><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">It might have been inside you all along.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Or maybe it doesn’t exist.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Does it matter?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h4 style="text-align: center;">The Dictionary</h4><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">That thing which lists and orders, </p><p style="text-align: center;">That thing which informs and defines.</p><p style="text-align: center;">That thing which prescribes.</p><p style="text-align: center;">A collection of words.</p><p style="text-align: center;">A museum of exhibits,</p><p style="text-align: center;">their little wings pinned.</p><p style="text-align: center;">No escape.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The three short poems were written as an answer to <a href="https://natasa-summerblues.blogspot.com/2023/04/what-it-isnt.html" target="_blank">these poems</a>.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-4479501313479904262023-04-29T15:35:00.000-07:002023-04-29T15:35:05.509-07:00So, You Want Nettle Soup?<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxcizdRE-olNFg4fSdb4_0opsuJUJECvUGyI-eC1Lt2XiPn1Vjo3KUHxQBlrLPptIY82rq8DodYKVdFxWAXasNVpyb_DrUSsZyIEUp4F_QrZCqB8CiYDYUzTWYXDNuQ-a6QWxQMGvE0z8yfpzTmHMHsoK6FqL4VwgLB7PEHsNkArdNj-9w6TNrFF0/s270/OIG.t.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDxcizdRE-olNFg4fSdb4_0opsuJUJECvUGyI-eC1Lt2XiPn1Vjo3KUHxQBlrLPptIY82rq8DodYKVdFxWAXasNVpyb_DrUSsZyIEUp4F_QrZCqB8CiYDYUzTWYXDNuQ-a6QWxQMGvE0z8yfpzTmHMHsoK6FqL4VwgLB7PEHsNkArdNj-9w6TNrFF0/s1600/OIG.t.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">So, You Want Nettle Soup?</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">Nettles may sting and prick your skin,</p><p style="text-align: center;">but don't let that stop you from diving in</p><p style="text-align: center;">to a bowl of soup that's creamy and green</p><p style="text-align: center;">with flavors so fresh and rich and clean. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I can see you coming, armed with shears.</p><p style="text-align: center;">You must be hot in those thick clothes. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Rubber gloves won’t help, for I will find a way.</p><p style="text-align: center;">You didn't notice that hole in the bag?</p><p style="text-align: center;">Once I’m in there, you’ll think you are safe.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I am sure you’ll want to take off those gloves.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Then I’ll attack and get my revenge.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Until then, I’ll lie low and </p><p style="text-align: center;">pretend I am dead.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">GloPoWriMo Day 29 - a </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">two-part poem that focuses on a food or type of meal</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">This poem is a dialogue. The first stanza was written by Bing AI. The second stanza was written by me. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-72351925575197518962023-04-28T17:38:00.005-07:002023-04-28T17:42:31.737-07:00The Little Black Notebook<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjUxfvSU4eS9PYdRPGk0BkNx2C-79qitiyE24NJQsvbCiA65btjXPB1rvLy3qYkOf-yCMXAndGunXVAjf76wSxzLLRaE5S8TfBtbV0dfLDmxO2oTI7WSkqK0I-c3Sz57E_BBIC3qxpHQrBVK37sGY4svNb25vfrNfQEHlgS-2_E5XS45Qh_2RVnFB/s270/OIG%20(34).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjUxfvSU4eS9PYdRPGk0BkNx2C-79qitiyE24NJQsvbCiA65btjXPB1rvLy3qYkOf-yCMXAndGunXVAjf76wSxzLLRaE5S8TfBtbV0dfLDmxO2oTI7WSkqK0I-c3Sz57E_BBIC3qxpHQrBVK37sGY4svNb25vfrNfQEHlgS-2_E5XS45Qh_2RVnFB/s1600/OIG%20(34).jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">The Little Black Notebook</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">So many forgotten names. Zdenka’s fruit cake. Zdenka is no longer alive. Olivera’s Spanish cake. I don’t remember eating this one. My mother couldn’t really cook or bake, but she loved eating. Apparently, she honoured the person who had given her the recipe, which is nice. Nada’s coq au vin. I wonder where she is now. We used to eat this every Sunday until I could no longer stand it. I wish someone would make me coq au vin now. Ankica’s Slovakian cake. Now, that was delicious, though I am not sure if it has anything to do with Slovakia. I didn’t know Ankica had given her the recipe. That must have been so long ago! I should focus, I need to find the chocolate cake. Branka’s meat pie. She died too. I miss her. I never liked meat pie. I still don’t. I loved Branka’s pancakes. Vinka’s fish stew. I hated the stew and only ate the bread. Slobodanka’s honey pie. Now, that doesn’t ring any bells. I don’t even remember eating it, but sometimes she would write something down just because someone said it was good. No, I don’t remember half of these recipes, but they sound delicious. I have to try this pasta. Olgica’s baklava! That’s a secret recipe. If asked, she will make it for you, but she will not tell you the ingredients. How did my mother manage to convince her? Never mind, here it is. And here is the chocolate cake. It says Mom in brackets. My grandmother’s recipe. So many recipes. Fruit cake (Mica). Ice cream (Hranilovic). Hungarian pie (Jola). Blueberry wine (Mom). Moussaka (Simka). Soft cake (Juca). Chestnut cake (Brana). Milica’s cake. Canadian cake (excellent). I am going to keep cooking and baking, until I have tried out each one of them. I bet she used to think that too. I will need to start right now, or I will run out of time.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-eight-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 28</a> - an index poem </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-35965737539255130852023-04-27T17:24:00.006-07:002023-04-27T17:24:55.834-07:00The Tuftroot of Pain<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyViDCN-i0PwqOlQaq6wz0YDZIoPE0V4oo-XkmwENeO8xLq5w27PbZ8smfjOQYwiDZe1gZzBeMh-zWGEJ0Pszc-hxt3kTXsTqHR-qmWDiss-k3Uj9HQj4x3WTPVeiPx7D1HIjxn9LE4_46pPFhxj4G70sIR5t4fzwRfwlEiGnyz6pVAS4OD9Vr_YOj/s270/OIG%20(76).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyViDCN-i0PwqOlQaq6wz0YDZIoPE0V4oo-XkmwENeO8xLq5w27PbZ8smfjOQYwiDZe1gZzBeMh-zWGEJ0Pszc-hxt3kTXsTqHR-qmWDiss-k3Uj9HQj4x3WTPVeiPx7D1HIjxn9LE4_46pPFhxj4G70sIR5t4fzwRfwlEiGnyz6pVAS4OD9Vr_YOj/s1600/OIG%20(76).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">The Tuftroot of Pain</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">Here’s my only houseplant, the only one that survived,</p><p style="text-align: center;">its little back bent over, </p><p style="text-align: center;">from where a heavy curtain fell and broke its spine.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Yet it refuses to give up,</p><p style="text-align: center;">its leaves still green and vibrant.</p><p style="text-align: center;">If it’s in pain, it is not telling.</p><p style="text-align: center;">And here are the three of us, all strong and feisty:</p><p style="text-align: center;">my grandmother, my mother and I.</p><p style="text-align: center;">All in our fifties, our backs bent over, </p><p style="text-align: center;">each one nursing her own pain.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My grandmother, small and gracious,</p><p style="text-align: center;">her face upturned, as if</p><p style="text-align: center;">listening lovingly.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My mother, leaning forward, as if</p><p style="text-align: center;">suddenly forced into humility.</p><p style="text-align: center;">And myself, my shoulders rounding, </p><p style="text-align: center;">my eyes cast downwards, as if</p><p style="text-align: center;">in modesty, though I am anything but</p><p style="text-align: center;">modest.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-seven-9/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">GloPoWriMo Day 27 </span></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-44956025827884919162023-04-26T18:17:00.004-07:002023-04-26T18:30:26.148-07:00Vasa's Cake<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wnl1Oh5r687TKUK3n-McR3siH9cKfgVLoOaXBWE3i6uAzow8_0eCj4Mf8iTfw3e5s5zp4Pp8K8B5xLjqg5ySRPiQcFjoKskGrv-apeRZaU_74fEvjo9J4BH-fxgKJyYuPAQJ3J7iKc0NsWmMWy5_sa5ckb3P2oQXrkB8tkvFx2JSjruVrlOJajgu/s270/OIG%20(70).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4wnl1Oh5r687TKUK3n-McR3siH9cKfgVLoOaXBWE3i6uAzow8_0eCj4Mf8iTfw3e5s5zp4Pp8K8B5xLjqg5ySRPiQcFjoKskGrv-apeRZaU_74fEvjo9J4BH-fxgKJyYuPAQJ3J7iKc0NsWmMWy5_sa5ckb3P2oQXrkB8tkvFx2JSjruVrlOJajgu/s1600/OIG%20(70).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Vasa’s Cake</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">This story should be told</p><p style="text-align: center;">like a fairy-tale:</p><p style="text-align: center;">Once upon a time</p><p style="text-align: center;">there lived a prince called Vasa.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>For the cake you will need:</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>eggs and sugar</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">He fell in love with a fairy,</p><p style="text-align: center;">tall and gracious,</p><p style="text-align: center;">thin and frail.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Her name was Jelena.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>walnuts and flour</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">One day, she fell ill.</p><p style="text-align: center;">They said she would die.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>some dark chocolate</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">There was a doctor in Vienna.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>some milk</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">So, Vasa sold everything he had.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>melted butter</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>orange juice</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">By this time, you must have guessed:</p><p style="text-align: center;">Vasa was just a humble merchant and</p><p style="text-align: center;">Jelena was just a local beauty.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Yet, this is a fairy-tale and</p><p style="text-align: center;">it should be told as such.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>some orange slices</i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>vanilla extract</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">For, like a true hero, he saved his love.</p><p style="text-align: center;">And, like a true hero, he was rewarded.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>some water and a pinch of salt</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">Neither a palace, nor a magic carpet</p><p style="text-align: center;">but a cake, to bear his name forever.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-six-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 26</a> - </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">a portrait poem that focuses on the subject’s name</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://thebalkanhostess.com/vasina-torta/" target="_blank">Here's more</a> about Vasa and Jelena. The original recipe is <a href="https://www.coolinarika.com/recept/vasina-torta-7aada600-6a2f-11eb-a994-0242c0a8b01d" target="_blank">here</a>, and you can run it through Google Translate if you are curious about the cake itself. It is not easy to make, but absolutely delicious. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-25971171418748616022023-04-25T17:21:00.002-07:002023-04-25T17:21:46.344-07:00Peppermint Field<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNWPek0PJB5RkramNeJgLPMfYwZOAWPRlWjEVCRlBOybxF7o57H2I3C9dZzfLX4I8MPCJvueAg150ygZPjX_oB8QP7BBBOlrjjMTNKbPqnRk4emWSFJEGmTDrOzTSYwcY2DJftpcNzQRGcwEQXUMUqAN9ScEQFCl2ghxjHGcJ7ACXwyajNSO4Tw10/s270/OIG%20(65).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNWPek0PJB5RkramNeJgLPMfYwZOAWPRlWjEVCRlBOybxF7o57H2I3C9dZzfLX4I8MPCJvueAg150ygZPjX_oB8QP7BBBOlrjjMTNKbPqnRk4emWSFJEGmTDrOzTSYwcY2DJftpcNzQRGcwEQXUMUqAN9ScEQFCl2ghxjHGcJ7ACXwyajNSO4Tw10/s1600/OIG%20(65).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Peppermint Field</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">If you dream you are in a peppermint</p><p style="text-align: center;">field, (if you get lost in a peppermint </p><p style="text-align: center;">field in your</p><p style="text-align: center;">dream), its aroma on your</p><p style="text-align: center;">skin, the memory of its</p><p style="text-align: center;">touch, its</p><p style="text-align: center;">burning taste on your</p><p style="text-align: center;">tongue, its soft rustling</p><p style="text-align: center;">call in your ears,</p><p style="text-align: center;">if you get lost in the fields of</p><p style="text-align: center;">green, feeling</p><p style="text-align: center;">exposed </p><p style="text-align: center;">and in need of</p><p style="text-align: center;">guidance, </p><p style="text-align: center;">you will wake up,</p><p style="text-align: center;">the remains of your</p><p style="text-align: center;">dream scattered around you, this roadside </p><p style="text-align: center;">grass that others walk on,</p><p style="text-align: center;">your heart.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-five-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 25</a> - </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">a love poem that names at least one flower, contains one parenthetical statement, and in which at least some lines break in unusual places.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-89175176404768922882023-04-24T17:39:00.005-07:002023-04-24T17:39:59.729-07:00On Heartbreak<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghl2dmjuaBbYnYLpkpN6QKiUWtrrFVDSr_LmfH2K8tktHE0zhFBPwHgvTxduvYh9rcGZpx6aocKVE-t-AcJjdTeFgUsder4JPrG2E5ZHkHuJePEkdZdLhC34ZpokGgssES2d7mmfa3hUWZzPkYcFpxTfIri8J8my6pJLa0z4n1HH5_UzISXXyWFZpM/s270/OIG%20(63).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghl2dmjuaBbYnYLpkpN6QKiUWtrrFVDSr_LmfH2K8tktHE0zhFBPwHgvTxduvYh9rcGZpx6aocKVE-t-AcJjdTeFgUsder4JPrG2E5ZHkHuJePEkdZdLhC34ZpokGgssES2d7mmfa3hUWZzPkYcFpxTfIri8J8my6pJLa0z4n1HH5_UzISXXyWFZpM/s1600/OIG%20(63).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">On Heartbreak</h2><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The first crack </p><p style="text-align: center;">marks </p><p style="text-align: center;">the earliest development stage.</p><p style="text-align: center;">It is</p><p style="text-align: center;">sometimes muted,</p><p style="text-align: center;">sometimes delicately fresh in flavor.</p><p style="text-align: center;">After a period of silence, the second crack begin,</p><p style="text-align: center;">softer and gentler,</p><p style="text-align: center;">deceptively nuanced, enigmatic,</p><p style="text-align: center;">richly to sharply bittersweet.</p><p style="text-align: center;">At least, that’s the stereotype.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The quiet finish centers around</p><p style="text-align: center;">pipe tobacco and scorched clove.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Burned bitter tones dominate.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-four-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 24</a> - a poem in the form of a review</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">This found poem is based on darker-roasted coffee reviews found </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.coffeereview.com/darker-roasted-coffees-not-just-old-school-anymore/" target="_blank">on this website</a>.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-10392348003927405432023-04-23T17:56:00.003-07:002023-04-23T18:04:34.206-07:00My Home<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8kKKaNpwGcqiOIXYthSlDJTdK151AhjzhYHbdoEiiSPpzpA_yG2FaY0kR_RFHqLNGe6Wlg6J_n1HCs-8-9T7BSPaBZpUXWR-W5nsIvQS73t4zbqkIq9YfuxY-7ctkJOLomtWxTknyVZjqUAHtc83FWuwdLnjjJHn31d64EPemvaveYEEl5Ms2ggr/s270/OIG%20(51).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8kKKaNpwGcqiOIXYthSlDJTdK151AhjzhYHbdoEiiSPpzpA_yG2FaY0kR_RFHqLNGe6Wlg6J_n1HCs-8-9T7BSPaBZpUXWR-W5nsIvQS73t4zbqkIq9YfuxY-7ctkJOLomtWxTknyVZjqUAHtc83FWuwdLnjjJHn31d64EPemvaveYEEl5Ms2ggr/s1600/OIG%20(51).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">My Home</h2><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: center;"><b>I</b></h3><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I am the garden.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I am sure you have guessed this by now from the way</p><p style="text-align: center;">I keep lamenting about the change of seasons,</p><p style="text-align: center;">the fallen apples, the broken branches,</p><p style="text-align: center;">the general asymmetry of trees</p><p style="text-align: center;">and the way the birds repeat themselves.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I am the garden.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The metaphor is not original.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I know you expected more.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: center;"><b>II</b></h3><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">It is important to believe that the garden still exists,</p><p style="text-align: center;">just as we left it.</p><p style="text-align: center;">That we didn’t dream it up.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: center;">III</h3><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">We conspired to stay here forever,</p><p style="text-align: center;">but the house crumbled around us.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The house is gone from the maps.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The river rose and washed it away.</p><p style="text-align: center;">We found ourselves, stranded,</p><p style="text-align: center;">at the top of the hill,</p><p style="text-align: center;">a new-born sea raging beneath us.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: center;">IV</h3><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Did I do this? </p><p style="text-align: center;">Did I neglect details</p><p style="text-align: center;">in my visions of you?</p><p style="text-align: center;">Did you crumble while waiting for me to notice</p><p style="text-align: center;">the misplaced brick,</p><p style="text-align: center;">the crude carpentry,</p><p style="text-align: center;">the lack of structure, </p><p style="text-align: center;">the failure to keep it all</p><p style="text-align: center;">under control? </p><p style="text-align: center;">Or was it my inflated ego</p><p style="text-align: center;">that made me believe </p><p style="text-align: center;">I was a builder?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: center;">V</h3><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">You cut that cherry tree </p><p style="text-align: center;">that was protecting my entrance. </p><p style="text-align: center;">You exposed me to the winds. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Draft got in and now </p><p style="text-align: center;">I am always cold.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: center;">VI</h3><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I am going home.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My decision is final.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I will find my home</p><p style="text-align: center;">exactly as I left it.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Not a brick will be missing.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My home, as I wrote it down.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My palace, as I painted it.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-three-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 23</a> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-26959653019592626982023-04-22T18:06:00.002-07:002023-04-22T18:06:27.331-07:00Patience<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTjTi8Zb0Et1B7-vxBBolvnDM-_MJHbo8_0CpDtK75sLwyaH7MB-0X5Qs0S3XbDWAT_wmVtQRACwdpQJoJrfR7IlrVOHcdhaDi2wsHJ6D1x8wGnE6mvLJdmvNeucFNuwa8B4yTR4T_2gaCNjh_p3jnTMQXjC_pamtfmjQwRy8pYhEznev0OJPkbQT/s270/OIG%20(47).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTjTi8Zb0Et1B7-vxBBolvnDM-_MJHbo8_0CpDtK75sLwyaH7MB-0X5Qs0S3XbDWAT_wmVtQRACwdpQJoJrfR7IlrVOHcdhaDi2wsHJ6D1x8wGnE6mvLJdmvNeucFNuwa8B4yTR4T_2gaCNjh_p3jnTMQXjC_pamtfmjQwRy8pYhEznev0OJPkbQT/s1600/OIG%20(47).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;"><br /></h2><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Patience</h2><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">“Patience” is a nice word for those who seek revenge. But strong fists are also fine in this day and age.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-two-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 22</a>:</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">"Find an Emily Dickinson poem – preferably one you’ve never previously read – and take out all the dashes and line breaks. Make it just one big block of prose. Now, rebreak the lines. Add words where you want. Take out some words. Make your own poem out of it!"</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I used Emily Dickinson's <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48184/faith-is-fine-invention-202" target="_blank">"Faith" is a fine invention </a></span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-54712744425733494292023-04-21T17:06:00.000-07:002023-04-21T17:06:14.889-07:00Calm<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQKVWyOQ0t37bjPVhcADcXp2AciJkMSSymtcG5-rd1-gH7ZF4t7ecLklIuTP3PHUg21sHAmg4nJF1D7TxQgjbKW5L5odQngIiTJH8dx57Hl9EqUSEwbgtOqiGuX8FQfDFsmWBPGH4KldJ6K-TZy1eoUvmD60x8genCq1dPxg9d4pILlw46rfj_AZ0/s270/OIG%20-%202023-04-22T020201.582.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQKVWyOQ0t37bjPVhcADcXp2AciJkMSSymtcG5-rd1-gH7ZF4t7ecLklIuTP3PHUg21sHAmg4nJF1D7TxQgjbKW5L5odQngIiTJH8dx57Hl9EqUSEwbgtOqiGuX8FQfDFsmWBPGH4KldJ6K-TZy1eoUvmD60x8genCq1dPxg9d4pILlw46rfj_AZ0/s1600/OIG%20-%202023-04-22T020201.582.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Calm</h2><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Stay calm,</p><p style="text-align: center;">even when there are</p><p style="text-align: center;">thoughts.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Today I almost lost</p><p style="text-align: center;">my streak.</p><p style="text-align: center;">That’s thinking!</p><p style="text-align: center;">My perfect streak.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Breathe in,</p><p style="text-align: center;">breathe out.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Ten more minutes</p><p style="text-align: center;">of this.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Thinking!</p><p style="text-align: center;">Breathe in peace,</p><p style="text-align: center;">breathe out stress.</p><p style="text-align: center;">It is important to breathe </p><p style="text-align: center;">naturally.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I am calm.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Though the world is</p><p style="text-align: center;">collapsing.</p><p style="text-align: center;">It is hard to beat this</p><p style="text-align: center;">calmness.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Two more meditations.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Two more apps.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My perfect streak.</p><p style="text-align: center;">That’s 20 more minutes</p><p style="text-align: center;">of my life</p><p style="text-align: center;">gone.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I am acing this.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I am</p><p style="text-align: center;">calmworthy.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My heart is</p><p style="text-align: center;">beating</p><p style="text-align: center;">too fast.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Should I get</p><p style="text-align: center;">a fourth app?</p><p style="text-align: center;">It is free.</p><p style="text-align: center;">That’s ten more minutes</p><p style="text-align: center;">of my life.</p><p style="text-align: center;">How much is that </p><p style="text-align: center;">in a year?</p><p style="text-align: center;">Two more minutes</p><p style="text-align: center;">until it’s over.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Then I’ll be allowed to cry.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-one-8/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 21</a> - short lines</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-59660853249635661262023-04-20T16:16:00.002-07:002023-04-20T16:16:29.236-07:00What they will say about us<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIi6hH-vUDjwmt13ShikE9ycgYfhRgqQL1vCZg6zOb3RuZC4HPcJa_bC0-K-8ZiMH2lO6TSEkt_6kfZung40N1uS3bTCyPtizlRl1sYqtcU28BBz4hrou2KhuZipJe7DoxuI7Yd5jBWoz19ubfAFC4URLR1x9POMFsB-smRl333vX1VbBWSWSO7QLQ/s270/OIG%20(89).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIi6hH-vUDjwmt13ShikE9ycgYfhRgqQL1vCZg6zOb3RuZC4HPcJa_bC0-K-8ZiMH2lO6TSEkt_6kfZung40N1uS3bTCyPtizlRl1sYqtcU28BBz4hrou2KhuZipJe7DoxuI7Yd5jBWoz19ubfAFC4URLR1x9POMFsB-smRl333vX1VbBWSWSO7QLQ/s1600/OIG%20(89).jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">What they will say about us</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div>These people could not</div><div>read or write. They left nothing</div><div>to help us learn who </div><div><br /></div><div>they were. Just a small </div><div>plastic rectangle. Long dead.</div><div>Probably a toy.</div><div><br /></div><div>That is why we think</div><div>they were simple and childish,</div><div>ignorant and poor.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-10/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 20</a> - what future archaeologists, whether human or from alien civilization, will make of us</span></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-10370013468207323462023-04-19T16:58:00.000-07:002023-04-19T16:58:06.586-07:00The Moth<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhMoa1ent8R_DCSMWnrInIgImv_PrceJpMRoHhIJOJTcBRz4JzzqPXT9Lr9I-lJRdKvWrT6a9p_GV065DZ7Oa3771OU911jGZFPvXqIR7HLxs2y6ngLIHPh9QW6nJ23neyPJj1UkHKaQjF-doeZI8oxy2Pud2IrZNzIsmI4SFSU7tejDSxODsr3xB/s270/OIG.e.d.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhMoa1ent8R_DCSMWnrInIgImv_PrceJpMRoHhIJOJTcBRz4JzzqPXT9Lr9I-lJRdKvWrT6a9p_GV065DZ7Oa3771OU911jGZFPvXqIR7HLxs2y6ngLIHPh9QW6nJ23neyPJj1UkHKaQjF-doeZI8oxy2Pud2IrZNzIsmI4SFSU7tejDSxODsr3xB/s1600/OIG.e.d.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">The Moth</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">She is just an ordinary girl.</p><p style="text-align: center;">A neighbour.</p><p style="text-align: center;">She seems strange and doesn’t talk much, but</p><p style="text-align: center;">she is very polite.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Then why are you so worried that she showed at your door?</p><p style="text-align: center;">And why do you keep looking </p><p style="text-align: center;">over your shoulder?</p><p style="text-align: center;">This is just an empty field and</p><p style="text-align: center;">there is no one here but you.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Old childhood fears creep in and</p><p style="text-align: center;">you start running.</p><p style="text-align: center;">You get home and turn on all the lights.</p><p style="text-align: center;">In the garden, the moths are gathering</p><p style="text-align: center;">around the lightbulb.</p><p style="text-align: center;">An owl is hooting. </p><p style="text-align: center;">You cover your neck.</p><p style="text-align: center;">You will stay awake tonight.</p><p style="text-align: center;">That way you will be safe.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Next thing you know, you are in a windmill.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The wheel has stopped and</p><p style="text-align: center;">the silence is complete.</p><p style="text-align: center;">In the distance, you can see your neighbour.</p><p style="text-align: center;">She looks at you and smiles knowingly.</p><p style="text-align: center;">You want to wake up, but you can’t. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-nineteen-8/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 19</a> - a poem about a childhood fear</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0200800/?ref_=tt_mv_close" target="_blank">Leptirica (The She-Moth)</a> is a Yugoslav horror movie from 1973. When I was a child, this movie gave me a fear of the dark. If you love old horrors based on folk tales, you can find the movie with English subtitles on YouTube.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-73516622310727925452023-04-18T17:30:00.002-07:002023-04-18T17:30:48.027-07:00The Poetic Alphabet<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE8sC6durn877vU-f66M8eplf1jdWNCzJ9poMV7pndqWMmNxr-ffm3d3FVfKIFKcudtANrtqaNjJ32W3AnL-XhEoiQqxJv7VNldHbFfAYU5ehASqPXeTHtQdwWtxqre4ctIzK5lVm5-a3DbnY3ySxvsI-tmbrwKk2gi9w_kYn7kRtU8vkgvxXhDsRr/s270/OIG%20(29).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE8sC6durn877vU-f66M8eplf1jdWNCzJ9poMV7pndqWMmNxr-ffm3d3FVfKIFKcudtANrtqaNjJ32W3AnL-XhEoiQqxJv7VNldHbFfAYU5ehASqPXeTHtQdwWtxqre4ctIzK5lVm5-a3DbnY3ySxvsI-tmbrwKk2gi9w_kYn7kRtU8vkgvxXhDsRr/s1600/OIG%20(29).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h2 style="clear: both;">The Poetic Alphabet</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">A poet must</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">beware the </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">childish</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">dependence on </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">exotic words and redundant</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">figures of speech.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Gradation,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">hyperbole,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">irony, you get the picture.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">keep it simple and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">logical.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Mind you,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">no one says an occasional</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">oxymoron or</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">pun, or even a </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">quote will </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">ruin your poem. A random </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">synecdoche is fine, as long as you don’t lose</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">track of your </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">unique </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">voice and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">your poetic </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">vision. That’s </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">what sets you apart - your</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">x-ray vision and your poetic</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">zest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-eighteen-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 18</a> - an abecedarian poem</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div></div><br /><p><br /></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-49035648118520795742023-04-17T16:47:00.004-07:002023-04-17T16:53:55.330-07:00Early Potatoes<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTL6TkCPFvb2OzzbVhehjHUfa65Uc_iI_xBTU92End91xduRiQHbc_kujmVqqR_l6d4PLiIwn-uyXr3EiCUot2fCHPt_4puJtahrYd1_RDV1tSG6BVKVlXPUT8bFCZ0tdgksWfu7XOJHPySEBHJVvjlDpS65kSjZMdT_B3VaDAJ6CGYIcdMmoHod-/s270/OIG..IkCMisN40.uI52R.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTL6TkCPFvb2OzzbVhehjHUfa65Uc_iI_xBTU92End91xduRiQHbc_kujmVqqR_l6d4PLiIwn-uyXr3EiCUot2fCHPt_4puJtahrYd1_RDV1tSG6BVKVlXPUT8bFCZ0tdgksWfu7XOJHPySEBHJVvjlDpS65kSjZMdT_B3VaDAJ6CGYIcdMmoHod-/s1600/OIG..IkCMisN40.uI52R.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><h2 style="clear: both;">Early Potatoes</h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Natascha is not as devastatingly elegant</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">as Prada, but she too</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">has excellent taste.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">She is resilient and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">matures early.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The plant is semi-upright.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Like her human namesake, she probably has</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">back problems.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Her eyes are shallow.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Mine offer more depth, I hope.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We are both attractive and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">have smooth skin.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">What shall I say?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Good genetics and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">a healthy lifestyle.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The fruit is poison and</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">so are the flowers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hidden, the real fruit</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">is safe.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-small;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-small;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-small;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-small;">GloPoWriMo Day 17 - a poem that contains the name of a specific variety of edible plant</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-small;">And how could I resist writing about <a href="https://www.fedcoseeds.com/moose/natascha-early-season-potato-7695" target="_blank">an early potato with (more or less) the same name as me</a>?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-small;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-small;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-small;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-small;"><br /></div></div><br /><p><br /></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-16678964469984193672023-04-16T17:05:00.002-07:002023-04-16T17:05:14.003-07:00What It Isn't<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPp7lyseZECQvVEJETU6o3sbExMiO3Jh3h8_2bkk1f2kEUWzBRaWhl7MU_ApQoLMiWa3tgiU4RHFrPvYeL9u0ifTBAVSIPqU84dxuve0rAucCXZ0xSntBcYf-XXpQ65CLPLfKEipUuxXQ_4R4-EXi3vUND0MUqIaCzIvtx0G1qtbl_6AGF8Laap3yA/s270/OIG%20(10).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPp7lyseZECQvVEJETU6o3sbExMiO3Jh3h8_2bkk1f2kEUWzBRaWhl7MU_ApQoLMiWa3tgiU4RHFrPvYeL9u0ifTBAVSIPqU84dxuve0rAucCXZ0xSntBcYf-XXpQ65CLPLfKEipUuxXQ_4R4-EXi3vUND0MUqIaCzIvtx0G1qtbl_6AGF8Laap3yA/s1600/OIG%20(10).jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">The Egg </h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">It's neither square, nor round.</p><p style="text-align: center;">It cannot fly, or walk.</p><p style="text-align: center;">What it will be, it's not.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">The Dictionary</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">It's not a pet and</p><p style="text-align: center;">can’t be tamed.</p><p style="text-align: center;">It leaves no room for </p><p style="text-align: center;">guesswork.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">The Magic </h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">It isn’t here or anywhere else.</p><p style="text-align: center;">It’s not a person, or a thing.</p><p style="text-align: center;">It doesn’t live and it hasn’t died.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-sixteen-10/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 16</a> - a poem of negation</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-27612934012516195592023-04-15T17:28:00.007-07:002023-04-16T17:08:22.015-07:00The Bribe<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig80eCh0SBJdzPlHFILNWoqJd2tzzw_trSpstlRJEmovzegU24XsfECZUaF9fbVWf1QqWK92hQllQVZm4-H5gDiqEkI7lw9g4vHjU_CvKgexY-KfFebeh4K5JljXEBQRg8-B7EstdjtM0qw5kKeCOqylu0UoiYEq_YXlRQqcWx7XeaKtU9ZWN_WdiQ/s270/OIG..vJgldJ9E_YwMGo8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig80eCh0SBJdzPlHFILNWoqJd2tzzw_trSpstlRJEmovzegU24XsfECZUaF9fbVWf1QqWK92hQllQVZm4-H5gDiqEkI7lw9g4vHjU_CvKgexY-KfFebeh4K5JljXEBQRg8-B7EstdjtM0qw5kKeCOqylu0UoiYEq_YXlRQqcWx7XeaKtU9ZWN_WdiQ/s1600/OIG..vJgldJ9E_YwMGo8.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">The Bribe</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">She claims she is not ill, just under the weather. She has managed to lose some weight recently and her old clothes are too big. Never mind, she will buy new ones. The doctors treated her so well, they were wonderful. She is grateful to them and doesn’t know how to express it. They won’t accept any of her presents, which is making her sad. Well, now she has made them a cake and they won’t be able to refuse a gift like that. She will offer to eat it with them and surely they will accept. Between us, she will just pretend to be eating. She is on a diet and this time it is working. She will need a lot of new clothes. Her husband can’t refuse her anything right now. He has turned into a big softie and keeps crying for no apparent reason. He is just relieved that she didn’t need the operation. No, she can’t afford to die. Her children are still small and they need her. She will live, she knows she will, no matter what everyone says. She has got this. She is praying every day and her prayers will save her. She is feeling stronger already and she has never looked better. The doctors will have to accept this cake. She has made it with a lot of love. If they give it back, she will get really angry. She will just stand there and will not accept no as an answer. Just like she refused to listen when they told her they couldn’t help her. They have helped and she is grateful. She is so grateful that her prayer has been heard. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">GloPoWriMo Day 15 - a person who has been held out as an example</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-90380974231279104182023-04-14T17:31:00.003-07:002023-04-14T17:34:06.798-07:00Give me back my stilettos<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVFNiVDbHEGtfVqoq1i30GaypWZ0fno227_dyG9NEFLVXMJa1WcSdJIRxVG-ehiUwH7qg8ml9Yz1ev_FWU-lOa9ctpPiUuJGh9dNfV1IG8REW-mcHiuS1R621Y9NYTzaIEvempvsHuCP5LfClZgPC3IE5bPTod8WmwpbdhYKqjnNsLepvlU_e3Fgw2/s270/OIG%20(86).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVFNiVDbHEGtfVqoq1i30GaypWZ0fno227_dyG9NEFLVXMJa1WcSdJIRxVG-ehiUwH7qg8ml9Yz1ev_FWU-lOa9ctpPiUuJGh9dNfV1IG8REW-mcHiuS1R621Y9NYTzaIEvempvsHuCP5LfClZgPC3IE5bPTod8WmwpbdhYKqjnNsLepvlU_e3Fgw2/s1600/OIG%20(86).jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Give me back my stilettos</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">My flat mules of pure green satin</p><p style="text-align: center;">Of yellow silk of striped suede</p><p style="text-align: center;">Of my light blue lace.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">My pumps of spotted cotton</p><p style="text-align: center;">Of burnished leather of checkered prints</p><p style="text-align: center;">Of sequins and jewels</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Give me back my strappy sandals</p><p style="text-align: center;">Give me when I ask you nicely</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-fourteen-10/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 14</a> - </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">turning a favorite poem of the past into something humorous</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I used <a href="https://allpoetry.com/Give-Me-Back-My-Rags--1" target="_blank">Vasko Popa's Give me back my rags #1</a>. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I had some fun going through various shoes on <a href="https://www.manoloblahnik.com/gb/women.html" target="_blank">Manolo Blahnik's website</a>.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-3314537381897714772023-04-13T18:45:00.005-07:002023-04-13T18:47:24.565-07:00The Faith<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnuAnJBYZR8MuQFCRhx_ugyW26RTU_qSRa1RsXbDp7KMR5AhQDovEiptw4oJQGMlKs43p4RB21c-meJ-SHtiVGOdW9gEBvAokfrmjva3bVvspmm770nBY1pjwxi8yMJO0ZH7cmQdtDM2cO38FGowOe2lwEpcHub6YEYfEK1JmI0VeR40zvcOnjDqr/s270/OIG.MIuLZO_yJ63iP2L.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlnuAnJBYZR8MuQFCRhx_ugyW26RTU_qSRa1RsXbDp7KMR5AhQDovEiptw4oJQGMlKs43p4RB21c-meJ-SHtiVGOdW9gEBvAokfrmjva3bVvspmm770nBY1pjwxi8yMJO0ZH7cmQdtDM2cO38FGowOe2lwEpcHub6YEYfEK1JmI0VeR40zvcOnjDqr/s1600/OIG.MIuLZO_yJ63iP2L.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">The Faith</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The river stole the gods.</p><p style="text-align: center;">That really eroded people’s faith in them.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-thirteen-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 13</a> - the punchline</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I used <a href="https://randomwordgenerator.com/sentence.php" target="_blank">Random Sentence Generator</a> to generate the first line.</span></p><div><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-20281441690638330932023-04-12T17:43:00.003-07:002023-04-12T17:52:28.735-07:00To My Fugitive Poem<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rdUL0NqIG53rAmGcU0g7sZnqyPelUPjRbUgdP4wQxvxvQBptqEZgTYcs7evinUjfBNJZUMXouDdOAdsL8CVireNWeEZAWraWCLIR_YvV2YfjMApeAYq5oE9dItkaxxje8RK-NjRU0rYHTDsrSxDX83SgPiJroyuBY1_OZjJmQNTplLdgSCKnifbk/s270/OIG%20(72).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rdUL0NqIG53rAmGcU0g7sZnqyPelUPjRbUgdP4wQxvxvQBptqEZgTYcs7evinUjfBNJZUMXouDdOAdsL8CVireNWeEZAWraWCLIR_YvV2YfjMApeAYq5oE9dItkaxxje8RK-NjRU0rYHTDsrSxDX83SgPiJroyuBY1_OZjJmQNTplLdgSCKnifbk/s1600/OIG%20(72).jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">To My Fugitive Poem</h2><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">You keep hiding from me.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I have searched under the bed and on the top shelf.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I have decluttered my desk, thinking I would find you inside.</p><p style="text-align: center;">You know I hate decluttering.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I have turned over every last scrap of paper, </p><p style="text-align: center;">looked behind the drawers,</p><p style="text-align: center;">and inside the fireplace.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our last conversation didn’t end well.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I have washed the windows, hoping to see you</p><p style="text-align: center;">lurking outside.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The house has never looked cleaner.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> I heard something in the street, so I ran outside</p><p style="text-align: center;">in my nightgown and slippers.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I thought I could hear you breathing, </p><p style="text-align: center;">but you didn’t show your face.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Now I am back inside.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I am sitting here in silence,</p><p style="text-align: center;">with the curtains drawn and the lights out.</p><p style="text-align: center;">You will have to come home at some point.</p><p style="text-align: center;">We have played this game for so long.</p><p style="text-align: center;">You promised this time would be different.</p><p style="text-align: center;">So I wait.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I have always been naïve</p><p style="text-align: center;">that way. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twelve-11/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 12</a> - addressing a poem directly</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><div><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-56835625988872309502023-04-11T17:15:00.003-07:002023-04-11T17:17:29.026-07:00Tough Love<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_X-yC6d9R27my24moKfaiWeqXw1HmKMUWXIOEGjLPhd7ON3SJm4aWKirPhARFyQaFXP8XM9DVvJuDHKlRHZ53FuPhPQHrxxAu1L9CptU1fWJL5zUrAEMiS5QmIFoSZ9NnALwMSFrR23XNPBp-Ir3bR0tDwnobxrS2JEzfCp0fGpAmFNCRxU1_2ro_/s270/OIG%20(63).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_X-yC6d9R27my24moKfaiWeqXw1HmKMUWXIOEGjLPhd7ON3SJm4aWKirPhARFyQaFXP8XM9DVvJuDHKlRHZ53FuPhPQHrxxAu1L9CptU1fWJL5zUrAEMiS5QmIFoSZ9NnALwMSFrR23XNPBp-Ir3bR0tDwnobxrS2JEzfCp0fGpAmFNCRxU1_2ro_/s1600/OIG%20(63).jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Tough Love</h2><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;">He is lovable and cute.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I will play with him all day.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;">He will make a perfect pet.</p><p style="text-align: center;">He is quiet, clean and small. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;">I will take good care of him.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I will feed him orange cake.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;">He is lonely and so scared.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I will be his human mom.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;">I will make a hat for him.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Bow ties for his lovely shell.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;">I will bring him corals red,</p><p style="text-align: center;">Seashells white and pebbles blue.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;">If he pinches, I won’t cry.</p><p style="text-align: center;">If he runs, I’ll follow him.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I keep the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Can I at least step on the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;">I'll just crush his little shell.</p><p style="text-align: center;">It will make a funny sound.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Daddy, can I step on the crab?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-eleven-11/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 11</a> - overheard language</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I used <a href="https://overheardatthebeach.com/archives/226.html" target="_blank">this post</a> from Overheard at the Beach.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-41256367237908224532023-04-10T16:44:00.005-07:002023-04-10T16:47:19.531-07:00Pirate Waves<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-BGKExhDh7aDPEM5fBc3q1Con2EmfZ9pTvC5g1qvXdQTLgRbHKXr-GxE4Gd6fqq9eHxiyum2L1bXDESTZIiADOofph0ldMp9m--jGK5PpI7z8DfxM2wyoyoz91Sre1vXeQgN4Qt78SE375Jc1iaelnmnQVwdWqkbzDJohZWUy3IRSs5B1rEAIjRrh/s270/OIG%20(44).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-BGKExhDh7aDPEM5fBc3q1Con2EmfZ9pTvC5g1qvXdQTLgRbHKXr-GxE4Gd6fqq9eHxiyum2L1bXDESTZIiADOofph0ldMp9m--jGK5PpI7z8DfxM2wyoyoz91Sre1vXeQgN4Qt78SE375Jc1iaelnmnQVwdWqkbzDJohZWUy3IRSs5B1rEAIjRrh/s1600/OIG%20(44).jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Pirate Waves</h2><div><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The day is young and so are we,</p><p style="text-align: center;">sailing on the deep blue sea.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our hats are white, our jackets blue,</p><p style="text-align: center;">we are pirates, bold and true.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The winds are strong and so are we,</p><p style="text-align: center;">rolling on the rocky sea.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our arms are strong, our hearts are black,</p><p style="text-align: center;">we will find a ship to wreck.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The sea is calm, the night is near,</p><p style="text-align: center;">we are lost, so full of fear.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The wind is gone, our arms are weak, </p><p style="text-align: center;">we are far beyond our peak.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The sky is dark, we are washed ashore.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Alas, we are bold no more.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our hats are lost, our jackets torn.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our days of wrecking ships are gone.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-ten-11/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 10</a> - a sea shanty</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-17553367742687432882023-04-09T17:17:00.001-07:002023-04-09T17:17:11.905-07:00Lavender<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Th2Bv9eHl8xRsNFHteYQp1Yl3mL3fJH5bUgg8YgRZWS-RbH-Ms59f8tpWBFqY85G6pF9qLVNlpp2NBdlIjpDmLcrOqd2kPbcP8SBcl582GDg44uuDRgNOfRWjSa_Qc6D9Q4zvSTZZZLw9Dl4jby1uNWEGlaG-A7MQ_TXFFbZ2cnyESavI08kPFDQ/s270/OIG.wzyblRUK3uVz.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Th2Bv9eHl8xRsNFHteYQp1Yl3mL3fJH5bUgg8YgRZWS-RbH-Ms59f8tpWBFqY85G6pF9qLVNlpp2NBdlIjpDmLcrOqd2kPbcP8SBcl582GDg44uuDRgNOfRWjSa_Qc6D9Q4zvSTZZZLw9Dl4jby1uNWEGlaG-A7MQ_TXFFbZ2cnyESavI08kPFDQ/s1600/OIG.wzyblRUK3uVz.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Lavender </h2><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Sweet sister, touch my weary eye</p><p style="text-align: center;">with your gentle compassionate hand,</p><p style="text-align: center;">breathe a balmy melancholy sigh,</p><p style="text-align: center;">dispatch me to that soft sepulchral land</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">where my soul will roam through meadows lone,</p><p style="text-align: center;">in enchanted caverns search its precious gifts</p><p style="text-align: center;">and in silent dens hope upon a dawn </p><p style="text-align: center;">when from these lands midnight gloom shall lift.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">How intoxicating is your fragrance sweet!</p><p style="text-align: center;">On its wings I fly to distant shores,</p><p style="text-align: center;">to noisy markets full of spice and mead</p><p style="text-align: center;">and magic spells and potions that will lure</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">a tired soul into oblivion,</p><p style="text-align: center;">a dreamless night, dark as obsidian.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-nine-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 9</a> - a sonnet</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><div><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-61742837974505204712023-04-08T17:22:00.002-07:002023-04-08T17:24:41.575-07:00The Smoking Gun<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1bg2ZUK_qO-dRBj33jZAYt3RjAkYSNzXQKf2k2WbGiZLOu7RiVzAnRLJSyOF1rALjgn4TI4cB8sbqAqfMqo7pQLfAScqdn_DRZxtMfCP7JKzKaGYP3XCLB1DbykViGzbc_JPqqgUTUZaT3-m_UaBn4f9k5OepgdWlMuPNk7CzoZ0sz3Wjj7XfgaC/s270/OIG%20(35).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1bg2ZUK_qO-dRBj33jZAYt3RjAkYSNzXQKf2k2WbGiZLOu7RiVzAnRLJSyOF1rALjgn4TI4cB8sbqAqfMqo7pQLfAScqdn_DRZxtMfCP7JKzKaGYP3XCLB1DbykViGzbc_JPqqgUTUZaT3-m_UaBn4f9k5OepgdWlMuPNk7CzoZ0sz3Wjj7XfgaC/s1600/OIG%20(35).jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">The Smoking Gun</h2><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The drawer bit me, it had teeth.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Inside, my aunt’s stash of family photos.</p><p style="text-align: center;">A picture of me at my parents’ wedding. </p><p style="text-align: center;">She never allowed me to touch the ballerina,</p><p style="text-align: center;">Sugar-coated, sweet-smelling, sharp as a razor,</p><p style="text-align: center;">Spinning loudly.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My aunt Vera lived in a suburb called Ćava.</p><p style="text-align: center;">And, of course, that was another girl in the picture, not me.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I was born four years later, if you must know. </p><p style="text-align: center;">She gave me a pair of pointy pumps from the 50s.</p><p style="text-align: center;">She would give me anything I asked for, except the ballerina.</p><p style="text-align: center;">A gift from her ex-husband, she said. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The ballerina was not made of sugar because I tasted it.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I still wanted it more than anything else. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The neighbour came to the door to ask for tea.</p><p style="text-align: center;">She had ladder stones,</p><p style="text-align: center;">which made no sense.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The bitter tea of remorse, my aunt said.</p><p style="text-align: center;">By that time, I was busy diggng through the drawer</p><p style="text-align: center;">and I’d given up trying to understand.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The gun was so beautiful and not a toy.</p><p style="text-align: center;">She let me touch it, then took it away.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Another gift from her ex-husband, she explained. </p><p style="text-align: center;">She gave me the bullets and I played with them for hours.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My Twelve Sons will not repeat my mistakes, she told my mother,</p><p style="text-align: center;">while she slid the guilty-looking bullets into the drawer.</p><p style="text-align: center;">So, later in life I was careful </p><p style="text-align: center;">never to put on as much weight as she had. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Mojih dvanaest sinova, she used to call me,</p><p style="text-align: center;">because that’s how much I was worth to her.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The ballerina ran away on a stormy night,</p><p style="text-align: center;">or, at least, that’s what they told me</p><p style="text-align: center;">and I refused to believe anything else.</p><p style="text-align: center;">My aunt had run away on such a stormy night.</p><p style="text-align: center;">At 15, you don’t know what love is,</p><p style="text-align: center;">my mother said.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I am sure that gun would tell a different story. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Her husband had given it to her for protection.</p><p style="text-align: center;">She almost killed him by mistake one day.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I thought that was the most romantic of all stories.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-eight-10/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 8</a> - Twenty Little Poetry Projects</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">The procedure is a little involved and you can find out more about it <a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-eight-10/" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-32401584476471998342023-04-07T16:22:00.002-07:002023-04-07T16:24:24.435-07:00What Makes a Good Poem<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4brvakMxKOLWe3pJnk6hQiLAkLznhwnAn69lLnLN7G1InNSC9i3qxBBmh4Dx-_7IaFvuYTgYAqVg7k7h4uXLKa1FuvUalBb-D3L1dWN45Lg2oWFNixPA64dENeqh5TV4lSpbYySLre08Owspoq-zGwOqKSex-a3Cn5Q0GYpiwk9SB1jokE4Oj6ZDt/s270/OIG.5lA4FGzJWQMa2YDPj.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4brvakMxKOLWe3pJnk6hQiLAkLznhwnAn69lLnLN7G1InNSC9i3qxBBmh4Dx-_7IaFvuYTgYAqVg7k7h4uXLKa1FuvUalBb-D3L1dWN45Lg2oWFNixPA64dENeqh5TV4lSpbYySLre08Owspoq-zGwOqKSex-a3Cn5Q0GYpiwk9SB1jokE4Oj6ZDt/s1600/OIG.5lA4FGzJWQMa2YDPj.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-seven-9/" target="_blank">GloPoWriMo Day 7</a> - a list poem</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">This is a found poem. It consists of sentences and phrases found in <a href="https://marilynsinger.net/what-makes-a-good-poem/#:~:text=Strong%2C%20accurate%2C%20interesting%20words%2C,that%20lie%20between%20the%20lines" target="_blank">this text</a>.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">What Makes a Good Poem</h2><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">A good poem is a slip-of-a-thing,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">a blind date with enchantment,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">emotion surprised.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">A good poem is a menagerie of craft; a spinning of sound,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">an act of discovery.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">A good poem is like medicine:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">A flavor that lingers on the tongue,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">surprises your senses, shakes you awake,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">a word that doubles back on itself, not once but twice.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">I want poetry that children can understand,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">and a way of ending that makes the reader exclaim with
delight,<o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">“Robert Frost is icy blue and
white!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><br /></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167418108111821179.post-18274811784194856342023-04-06T18:24:00.001-07:002023-04-06T18:25:27.419-07:00Something Monstrous<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssZT00eTb4CYkFTFRleNUGCzTvm3ayi51AzYim17aQtTSp8b3R55i3Q5kE8ffxOp0FKJbxWopEjoeMq0-RiWDf2-KVPTOMagJaQrQoKs7-c9a8rgSFESkJSrS5giupqITQGu8kDbaZxFSG4XB-k_hgDOlh65o7DHHuhXvWd-Jak2MV5MWzWNIsZBn/s270/OIG.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssZT00eTb4CYkFTFRleNUGCzTvm3ayi51AzYim17aQtTSp8b3R55i3Q5kE8ffxOp0FKJbxWopEjoeMq0-RiWDf2-KVPTOMagJaQrQoKs7-c9a8rgSFESkJSrS5giupqITQGu8kDbaZxFSG4XB-k_hgDOlh65o7DHHuhXvWd-Jak2MV5MWzWNIsZBn/s1600/OIG.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.napowrimo.net/day-six-10/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">GloPoWriMo Day 6</span></a></p><p><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Our task today was to take a look around Poetry International for a poem in a language we don’t know, then read the poem to ourselves thinking about the sound and shape of the words, and the degree to which they remind us of words in our own language, then use those correspondences as the basis for a new poem.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I used <a href="https://www.poetryinternational.com/en/poets-poems/poems/poem/103-28520_FOTOGRAFIE#lang-org" target="_blank">Part 3 of the poem Photographs by Mária Ferenčuhová</a>. The poem was written in Slovak and I first "translated" it to Serbian, then translated it (this time really) to English. The result is a very raw draft (especially the Serbian version), but it is the beginning of something that can be worked on. </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RYyiiMTnw6nRIDeJ2ap8l92cawik_aVIQAOp2B5Bd5L4IwKKUWpjoTJZHYU9cPoe-sMKXLpHuSXYHJwKTf9la0mOo0dYk8VhfP_cihKQOai7ZNYRQshCH94sAEqpVeWTdRCcxccuVJKnFOF3XsMSwINfK0MaFrReZP3ahxW-ENstkcIIKNsvxlgH/s270/OIG%20(24).jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="270" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-RYyiiMTnw6nRIDeJ2ap8l92cawik_aVIQAOp2B5Bd5L4IwKKUWpjoTJZHYU9cPoe-sMKXLpHuSXYHJwKTf9la0mOo0dYk8VhfP_cihKQOai7ZNYRQshCH94sAEqpVeWTdRCcxccuVJKnFOF3XsMSwINfK0MaFrReZP3ahxW-ENstkcIIKNsvxlgH/s1600/OIG%20(24).jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Image created by Bing AI</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Strava </h2><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Nikada, na rubu vremena.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Sa tektonske ploče</p><p style="text-align: center;">u trenutku prhne</p><p style="text-align: center;">par crnih krila.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Sve se rasprskava.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Posrnuli, ustaje.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Veliki odron tutnji.</p><p style="text-align: center;">A šta joj to kida utrobu?</p><p style="text-align: center;">To strava uzima svoj prvi dah.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: center;">Something Monstrous</h2><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Once, on the edge of time</p><p style="text-align: center;">something dark flaps its wings,</p><p style="text-align: center;">the tectonic plates crack,</p><p style="text-align: center;">the Fallen stands up again,</p><p style="text-align: center;">the great landslide rumbles.</p><p style="text-align: center;">What is it that's tearing her insides?</p><p style="text-align: center;">Something monstrous takes its first breath.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Natasahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12048765349737400507noreply@blogger.com2