Repetition

 Photo Credit: Brian Smithson (Old Geordie) via Compfight cc



It never ends.
You follow the path
and it doesn't take long
before you realise
that you are walking in circles,
passing the point you started from
thousands of times.
It is all right
somehow,
you'll never get tired of this,
your muscles crave the repetition,
you look forward
to the familiar landmarks.
Yet the real challenge
is in noticing the differences:
the position of the sun
on your face,
the way the ground feels
under your feet
and the sound of your own voice
in your ears
as you sing
the same tune
over and over.

It is Day 30 in NaPoWriMo, the last day. I posted every single day and on some days I wrote more than one poem, so I need to count the poems and see how many I have written (yes, I am boasting). I am grateful to all my new friends for reading my poems. I am planning to continue posting once a week. What are your plans?


Photo Credit: zen via Compfight cc


By the way, I used the Day 30 PAD prompt.

A Concise Serbian-English Dictionary - Part 2

 Photo Credit: MrPhilDog via Compfight cc


Početak, the beginning
It was just another challenge
I was to try and fail.
Put, the road,
was not always easy,
but I forgot an important fact:
Pesma je neophodna da bi se preživelo
(a poem is necessary for survival).
A day - dan
and the smallest unit of time
is a poem.
Friends, prijatelji,
the people I met along the way.
Tajna, a secret,
what you share with friends.
Kraj, the end.
But you don't have to stop
if you don't want to.


It is Day 29 in NaPoWriMo. I have really enjoyed today's prompt, which has enabled me to 'teach' people some Serbian and to send some love to all the new friends that I have made in this challenge.Today's PAD prompt gave me more ideas, so I combined the two. This is the second poem in the Concise Serbian-English  Dictionary series (might not be the last). The first one is here. I will add an audio file to this soon.

I Am Not Going to Write a Poem Today

Photo Credit: Pink Sherbet Photography via Compfight cc


I am not going
To write a poem
Today.
I can’t be expected
To produce
A new poem
Every day.
It can’t be done.
I won’t do it
Any more.
I refuse
To write a poem.
I have got
Nothing to say.
Go to the library.
Find yourself a nice novel.
Leave me alone.
I am going
To keep quiet.
I will not speak
Evey if you torture me.
I will not
Write a poem
Today.


NaPoWriMo Day 28

I Am a Bird

Photo Credit: kainet via Compfight cc

I am a bird

I build my nest

From what others

Have dropped.

I weave my home

From other people’s

Words and footsteps.

I look through their eyes.

I speak their tongues.

I feel with their skin.

I am a perfect conductor

And I can take it all

Without resistance.


My NaPoWriMo Day 27 poem and I didn't really follow the prompt.

Photo Credit: Kuzeytac (will be back soon) via Compfight cc

He Casts His Nets

dedicated to Branko Miljković

Photo Credit: Mike_tn via Compfight cc

He casts his nets

The sea will not rest tonight

He is not afraid to listen to its song.

He leaves, he just walks out

And takes the fire with him,

The thief.

He is not afraid to walk through the wood

That has eaten the sky.

Still, he cannot find her,

The girl with the flower in her name.

In the underworld

He searches for his brother

Who has failed.

He carries a torch

And is not afraid

To turn and look behind him.

He doesn’t belong among the dead

But they won’t release him.

The victim of murderous words,

He is not afraid to be walled in.

Tamed, the Hell will eat out of his hand

And sing.

He casts his nets.

He draws them out, empty.

He is the fish on the table today, 

His blood, the ink for the writing orgy

Of those he knows will come after him,

Of the happy ones

And the cowards.

But today

He still has only

The fire

And me.

My NaPoWriMo Day 26 poem. I modified the NaPoWriMo prompt and combined it with the PAD Day 26 prompt. The poem is dedicated to the Serbian poet Branko Miljković who has influenced my poetry a lot. What I tried to do here is write a poem about his poetry and to create a collage of his pictures and metaphors. The nets are my idea, though :)

What Might Happen If I Ever Read My Poetry in Public

Photo Credit: ~Oryctes~ via Compfight cc


My accent is foreign
My voice quiet
I stutter.
Somewhere inside me
I find the passion,
Then begin.
I tell them everything.
Years of dreams
All leading to this moment.
When I finish
Everybody claps
Politely.
Afterwards
They all avoid me
In the corridors.

My NaPoWriMo Day 25 poem. I used the PAD prompt for Day 25 and modified it slightly.

My Fingers

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo shared by Ferran.


My fingers know what is expected of them.
I leave them alone
And they get the job done
Every time.
I let them run
On their own.
They never come back
Without their prey
Whatever they bring to my door
I accept.
No questions asked.
They never bother me.
They are very independent.
They know I need my rest
After a hard day.
We are locked in this game,
My fingers and I.
I never know what they are hunting for.
I fear their return,
For I know
I’ll have to sink my teeth into
Whatever they decide to leave
On my threshold.

It's NaPoWriMo Day 24 and I used the PAD Day 24 challenge

I See You

My son is 13 tomorrow, so this is my NaPoWriMo Day 23 poem. Technically, you could say that I followed the PAD prompt for Day 23, though I was going to write this anyway.

I see you

In the car

That day before the school started

Your eyes wide with fear.

I see you

In your room

Whispering to your toy puppy

Do you still tell him your secrets?

You are three years old now

Learning the alphabet from fridge magnets

Asking endless questions.

You are sitting in my lap

Fiddling with my earrings,

I have just come back

From a trip.

Now it’s winter and you are

Playing with your toy computer

Getting all the numbers right again

The penguins dance on the screen

And you clap your hands.

You are laughing

As you watch cartoons.

You are in the kindergarten, crying,

As I leave you there

You are crying as they cut

The umbilical cord, but stop

When they give you to me

I wish I still had that power over you.

I see you

Now

You are a teenager

You can open a Facebook account

Or get an email of your own.

You never spoke much

I have to feel you with my stomach

It is scary to have that ability 

And there must be

Something I can do

To keep you safe.

The Garden, in its Absence

In its absence, the garden
Seems to have no purpose.
The memory of it
Is clear,
Yet there is no life
In the memory itself.
We may dream of the garden and hope
That it still exists.
We may believe that it is the same
As we remember it.
Though, of course, it won’t be.
Something will be different:
A stone upturned
A tree a year older
That flower that used to grow in the corner -
Long dead.
A bird will have left
And moved somewhere else.
Other birds will sing
And something new will crawl in the grass.

My NaPoWriMo Day 22 poem. 

How Do You Like Them Cookies

cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by Josh Kenzer: http://flickr.com/photos/shoot-art/3918507550/


You will hunt by night and sleep by day.
You will tear everything you weave and enjoy both activities equally.
You will hide your dreams in a drawer out of fear that sunlight will turn them into ashes.
You will be a voluntary insomniac.
You will be faithful to everything you touch – the people, the objects, the memories. You never know when you might need them on your side.
You will forever be thirsty.
Are you sure you want one more? They are fattening, you know.


My NaPoWriMo Day 21 poem. I seem to have run out of things to say, but I am still posting. I also did the PAD Day 21 poem. They are connected.

Why I did it

I stole the cookies
And replaced the messages.
You need to lose weight.

Beyond Meaning

cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by surrealmuse: http://flickr.com/photos/surrealmuse/4757004/


Salt on my wound,
All those words I don’t understand
Such as non-pareil
cowbird
And dunderhead.
The little man doesn’t like
These elusive words.
Have you got nothing of your own
To tell us?
The meaning has absconded
From this poem.
There are word generators
That do a better job than you did here.
They produce honest words, such as
Owls
artillery
And cheese.
All these words
Could have had a purpose
In a real poem.
They are squandered
On this mechanical cyclops,
This ghost in a gutter,
This billius ego trip.
No wonder
Poetry has
Such bad reputation.

I have to say that I didn't really enjoy the NaPoWriMo Day 20 prompt, but I decided not to take myself too seriously and to fool around with it. The PAD prompt for today was "beyond" and it was easy to combine these two. 

Day 19 - Ads and Fires

cc licensed ( BY SA ) flickr photo by x-ray delta one: http://flickr.com/photos/x-ray_delta_one/3935087159/

Personal Ads

On sale
Peace of mind and sanity.
Well preserved
One careful lady owner.

Wanted
Rage, rants and raves
Tamed and housebroken
Trained to guard and assist
Poets.

This is my NaPoWriMo Day 19 poem. The challenge was to write a personal ad.

I wrote one more, using the PAD prompt for Day 19 (burn). You can read all sorts of symbolism into it if you wish, but I was simply reminding myself of the proper procedure for lighting a fire in our holiday house. We have this crazy old-fashioned stove which is quite temperamental and stubborn.

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by akahodag: http://flickr.com/photos/akahodag/1455082181/

How to Light a Fire

A pile of cones

Should be made first.

Make sure they are dry.

Then 

A couple of pages from a newspaper,

Crumpled.

All this in the form of  a pyramid. 

Put two pieces of wood 

On top 

Make sure they are small.

You should have three piles of wood ready

Starting from small pieces on the right

To the logs on the left.

The small pieces will catch fire fast.

Keep adding them 

Until the fire builds.

Then you can use

Larger and larger pieces

And finally, the coal.

That should keep you warm for a while.

The coal pieces shouldn't be

Too big.

The entrance to the stove is narrow

And your hands are small.

Oh, and never throw anything

Straight into the fire.

That might extinguish it

Before it builds.

Use the corners instead.

Now you can light a match

And put it on top of the paper.

After that, just wait

There is nothing else to do.

You can offer a little prayer

If you are so inclined.

If the wood doesn’t catch fire

That first time,

Just keep trying. 

I Am a Hard Disc

cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by egaistek: http://flickr.com/photos/29276244@N03/3200630853/


Spinning,
I count
The ones and the zeroes as I try
To make some sense
Of the random thoughts that start to emerge.
Spinning,
I remember everything,
The movie of my life
Frame by frame
The pictures and the sounds,
Folders
Full of data
That I am not allowed to forget:
Who said what to whom
And why
What I thought and felt
What I said and
What I should have said
If I had thought about it
More carefully,
Old programs
That I never use any more
But might need one day,
Music
That was important once,
Millions of
Pictures
And all those books.
Everything
Is inside me as I keep
Spinning.

For Day 18 I combined the NaPoWriMo prompt with the PAD prompt.

Not My Mother Tongue

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by CherrySoda!: http://flickr.com/photos/cherrysoda/115956078/


This language is foreign to me.
It will not bend under my tongue.
It rebels against me.
I am under its spell.
Fascinated, 
A toddler with a Barbie doll,
I stretch its limbs too far
And it breaks.
I need to learn 
How to behave myself
Before I come to play again.

My NaPoWriMo Day 17 poem and I used the Day 17 PAD prompt (expression).

Tradittore

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by --Tico--: http://flickr.com/photos/tico_bassie/4120114329/

It's Day 16 in NaPoWriMo and our task today is to "translate" a poem written in a language we don't speak, using this site. I chose this beautiful poem by Elisa Biagini. I decided to retell it rather than translate it, but after reading the real translation I really feel like a traitor for doing this to it:


I think she loves him a lot.
I think they don’t speak the same language.
She translates his life
With the aid of feng shui.
She sings to him,
Her voice in harmony with his voice.
They don’t speak the same language,
But she writes his life with her body.
She summons the wind to clear the path he is taking,
But there is that bit about the water she used to wash the dishes 
That I don’t quite understand.
She reads his life to him, 
I believe,
In strange doorways.
As he passes by, she pulls him
Into the museum she created of his life.
Of their life.
Hers is an artist’s portfolio.
She is a collector of memorabilia,
Trying to capture the essence of him,
To keep it on the shelves of her museum,
To protect it.
The acid rains
That have been falling for years
Will not taint the silver of their past.

They Come at Night

cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by code poet: http://flickr.com/photos/alphageek/254391170/

NaPoWriMo Day 15 (halway there!). I used the PAD Challenge for Day 15 and wrote two poems, different in tone.


They come at night
Thousands of
Moths
Barely visible
They hide in our closets
While we sleep
Tearing the fabric
Leaving behind
Something that resembles
Our past
But is not quite like it.
A new day comes
And, embarrassed,
We look at each other.
The seams are not quite there
And the sun can be seen
Through the tears.

cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by +yooco+: http://flickr.com/photos/rutsu/3709434413/





They come at night, one by one,
Out of a secret drawer
She surrounds herself with
Sweet little stuffed animals
They are everywhere
And she knows that, once again,
Everything’s good
And she can be
The princess
In her own story.
Don’t tell anyone. 
They might think it is strange
For a woman her age
To have such a dirty secret.

The Nice Girl in Your Neighbourhood

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by pullip_junk: http://flickr.com/photos/pullip_junk/7681283188/



I was made of clay
And I am as old as the Earth itself.
Nothing about me 
Is the way it seems.
My magic is powerful,
My clothes are lethal weapons,
My wings are invisible
And you’d better never get to know
My rage.
I can be sweet and modest
If that is required.
But don’t you ever
Lie to me
And, whatever you do,
Don't stick around
If I decide to take off
My bracelets.

My NaPoWriMo Day 14 poem.

Day 13 - In the Woods

cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by fatboyke (Luc): http://flickr.com/photos/fatboyke/2984569992/



It is a nice day.
Nothing spectacular,
But the sun is shining and
It is warm enough.
I leave the building,
Go past the shops,
The school and the open market,
Past the swimming pool, now padlocked,
And into the woods. 
It is different here,
Cool and dark
And I need my sweater again.
The trees know it is spring time,
Thought some of them 
Still have bare branches.
The ground is soft,
A little muddy,
Not too bad.
There are ferns by the path
And a red plastic bag.
A dog is wearing red too.
It is a sweater
And he must be hot. 
Maybe he is a she,
I don't know.
I try to record mentally 
Everything I see,
For I will have to write about it
Later.
Still, I lose track
Of the number of times 
I hear a bird singing.
I fail to notice
The green numbers on trees,
The swings
And the birdhouse, 
As I am weighing pros and cons
And pluses and minuses
And good sides and bad sides,
Thinking of a decision I will have to make,
Eventually,
One day,
Though maybe
I will never have to make that decision,
But it is better to be prepared,
Just in case.

My NaPoWriMo Day 13 poem

Day 12 - Cracks in the Wall

cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo by rabiem22: http://flickr.com/photos/rabiem/8442193634/


There are cracks
in the walls
the house is tilted
to one side
your legacy
crumbling
before our eyes
we do nothing
we watch
time passes and the garden
gives in to entropy
new plants, new trees
and that rosebush that’s
gone wild.
Time passes and your legacy
changes and people
stand on the doorstep,
then leave
never to come back and I
remain inside, though time
leaves traces on me too.

The first poem was written using the 2013 April PAD Challenge prompt for Day 12.

And in the second poem I used the NaPoWriMo Day 12 prompt.



cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo by Darwin Bell: http://flickr.com/photos/darwinbell/3522474942/

I will not write a poem about you

I will not write a poem about you
I promised never
To
Do
That
I will not mention you in my poetry
You will never get in here
This space is mine
Password protected
And secret
The days I read my poetry to you
Are finished
I know you are scared
Your thoughts are censored
Your ground is firm
You see me clearly
And, in your vision, I am safe
As long as I stay away
From poetry.
Besides,
Who knows what might be revealed
If I write a poem about you.
Don’t worry.
I will not
Do
That.
I promised I wouldn’t.

Two Short Poems for Day 11

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by ViaMoi: http://flickr.com/photos/viamoi/3012259645/

In Case of Fire

In case of fire
I will not save this poem.
I’ll leave it to burn.
Maybe there’ll be some sparks then.
Maybe we’ll see some passion.




cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by lindes: http://flickr.com/photos/lindes/248862557/

If only

If I could only
Express it with clarity,
if I was better
at metaphors and such things
maybe I would be great, then.

Two tankas for Day 11 of NaPoWriMo (hopefully I have got the form right). The first poem also follows the Day 11 PAD Challenge prompt.

I Can't Do This Any More

cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo by Massimo Margagnoni: http://flickr.com/photos/50335549@N05/7170224022/


We meet at midnight,
Tired and disillusioned.
The habit has set in.
I drag my feet through the mud
To reach the empty field
Where you are already waiting.
Why am I the only one
Doing the hard work?
You take my time
And leave me frustrated.
Every night I promise myself
I will not come.
For thirty days we meet,
We wrestle.
I suffer.
You grow.
You feed on my misery.
You have put on weight
Since we started.
I am drained.
I am fading.
I have nothing else
To give.
Yet I keep coming.
I drag my feet along this path
Filling it with my words,
My life,
Carefully coded.
Each night
A new riddle.
Where will you take me next?

My Day 10 entry for NaPoWriMo. I combined the NaPoWriMo prompt and the 2013 PAD prompt for Day 10.

The Dark Mirror

Which one is real?
The predator,
Hiding in the shadows,
Motionless, waiting,
The silver in her hand 
Caught by moonlight?
Or is it the other one?
The meek creature
Who comes out only
During daytime?
Does it matter?
They both lie and, in the long run, 
It will make no difference to you.
Whoever she is,
She will hunt you down.
She will take everything you have
And everything you are.
This nightmare,
This reflection in the mirror,
She is all you will ever know.
She will make you walk for miles,
And you’ll never find out her name.

My entry for NaPoWriMo Day 9 (prompt: film noir) and for 2013 PAD Day 9 (prompt: a hunter poem).

Day 8 - How to Build a House

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by Franck Vervial: http://flickr.com/photos/vervial/6084493791/


Build your house
On a hill.
That will give you an advantage
Over your neighbours
And it will keep you dry
When the floods come.
Lay your foundations
Onto the roots
Of an oak tree.
That will remind you
There’s someone older
And stronger around.
Your ditch should be large and deep.
You don’t need any unwanted visitors.
The door should be simple, made of wood,
And it should creak when you open it.
That way you will know 
That your job is not done.
Make your windows large,
So there is always plenty of light,
But build a deep cellar
To retreat to when you need darkness.
Finally, a tower
To write in,
Solitary and secluded
With just a single window,
Should you wish
To let your hair down.

My Day 8 NaPoWriMo poem. I used the 2013 April PAD Day 8 prompt.

The Only Problem

cc licensed ( BY ND ) flickr photo by h.koppdelaney: http://flickr.com/photos/h-k-d/4030113126/

To celebrate seven days of NaPoWriMo (and eight written poems), I should have created something festive. Instead, I came up with the darkest poem I have written this week. Sorry, but it's my party and I'll cry if I want to.


He bought a rope.
Then he fixed that fence.
He had been postponing it for a long time.
He tidied the house
and wrote a will.
Then he wrote one more letter.
He took his bills out of the box and checked them.
All paid.
He called his son, who said he was feeling better today 
and even managed to eat.
He hung up, then called his daughter.
She was unavailable.
It was getting late, so he had to hurry.
He took the rope from where it was lying
And slowly walked out.
At the door he stopped and looked at the room.
All nice and tidy.
Then he walked over to the barn.
That was all.
But who will take care of his cat now? 

The Post

cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by cindy47452: http://flickr.com/photos/cindy47452/1796528206/


It was their home.
I don’t know 
What they thought or felt,
If anything, 
But they must have enjoyed
The garden
And the kind autumn sun.
The cold must have killed them.
They say this happens to wasps
When the weather changes.
They also say the queen leaves the nest
And goes into hybernation 
During winter.
I hope she did that.
The nest was still there,
Intact.
The mailbox was full of them.
There was nothing else inside.
Nobody writes letters 
These days.

My NaPoWriMo Day 6 poem. I used the PAD Challenge Day 6 prompt (the word was "post").

A Box Full of Trinkets

cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo by ahisgett: http://flickr.com/photos/hisgett/504354910/


Just start
And keep going
It will all make sense in the end
The words
A box full of trinkets
That dog
Who loved you
That afternoon
When the sun was hot on your skin
And the cold wind
On that graveyard
Your life
Full of trinkets you don’t need
But can’t throw away
A box
Where every button or a piece of thread
Might be needed
To stitch it all together.

My Day 5 NaPoWriMo poem and the prompt is taken from the April PAD Day 5 challenge (write a plus poem). I got stuck and almost didn't write this one, so I played some sad music in the background, closed my eyes and started typing. Then I just kept adding stuff.

Day 4 - Hold that darkness

cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by lintmachine: http://flickr.com/photos/lintmachine/3652702115/

Two short poems today. The first one is for the PAD Challenge:

Hold That Darkness

Not sleeping

Curled up 

Safe

As long as the darkness remains

On my eyelids.

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by jef safi \ 'pictosophizing: http://flickr.com/photos/jef_safi/2931277932/

The second one is an answer to the Day 4 NaPoWriMo prompt:

Well I Was in the Neighbourhood

Well I was in the neighbourhood

So I decided to drop by

So I decided to dig a hole

In your rose garden

So I decided to write my name

On your garage door

So I decided to burn your treehouse

On my bonfire

So I decided to give your bed

To my goats.

I Don't Want You to Read My Poetry

cc licensed ( BY NC SA ) flickr photo by Stuck in Customs: http://flickr.com/photos/stuckincustoms/2539913076/


I don’t want you
To read
My poetry.
Stop searching my room.
I will not tell you
Where my poetry is hidden.
You will never find
The loose floorboard,
The buried treasure,
I don’t want your meddling fingers
In that box.
Look.
My room is full
Of beautiful china figurines,
Serene waterfalls,
The sound of dolphins in the background.
This is who I am,
Smiling and composed.
Don’t you dare ask me 
Where my poetry is.


This is my NaPoWriMo Day 3 poem. I used the 2013 April PAD Day 3 prompt (write a tentative poem).

Demotivational Quotes

cc licensed ( BY ) flickr photo by .faramarz: http://flickr.com/photos/fhashemi/97033289/

My NaPoWriMo Day 2 challenge - tell a lie. This is a found poem and what I did was take a bunch of lovely motivational quotes, take the words out of their context, mix them up and create something dark and pessimistic (still trying to participate in the PAD challenge as well and to combine the two daily prompts into one poem). I admit, it was a mean thing to do and it is a mean little poem.



Be miserable.
With the new day comes
Someone else’s plan.
Keep going.
I don’t believe
You can dream it.
Optimism is the faith, 
The will to win.
Always continue the climb.
Be kind
If you’re going through hell.
Even if you fall on your face,
Eat them for breakfast.
After a storm comes
Not much.
Too old.
Do you want to know
Who you are?
Learn from the past,
Expect problems, 
Always do your best.
Act as if what you do
Makes a difference,
Reach the end of your rope.
The day runs you.
It does.

Day 1: The Guest

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo by Kevin Conor Keller: http://flickr.com/photos/conorkeller/4431443614/

Oh, but it is dirty,

His shirt.

His face, smiling,

His cheeks, dimpled,

Covered in soot.

He has no jacket.

Nobody heard him

When he walked in.

Now he sits down quietly

At the table opposite the counter.

He can’t be more than ten.

He shivers slightly,

Then corrects his posture

And puts a cheeky grin on.

He is quite handsome,

Curly hair, and those dimples.

He never takes his eyes off

The barista.

She stares at the floor

As she brings him

A chocolate muffin

And something steaming

In a cup.

They don’t speak,

They have done this

Many times before.

He sits there,

Invisible to everyone,

His manners impeccable

As he eats.

Once finished,

He walks outside

And a gust of wind

Enters the room

Bringing with it

The chill of

A December morning.

This is my post for NaPoWriMo Day 1 (a poem that has the same first line as another poem) and for 2013 April PAD challenge (write a poem about a new arrival). Two birds with one stone. Hope I can keep this up - a poem a day.