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Last day of NaPoWriMo! After this I will freewrite...no idea if I'll post everything online tho.

Prompt 1

the last five seconds
of a love story
are always cut
short

Todd's Eol Eum's idea. I stole it. I also used poems that weren't published online, but written this month...it was a total of...52 poems, not including this one. Fifty two is a good number, kukuku...

Prompt1 - take from several headlines, create a poem out of them. ('Survivor' Black Holes May Be Mid-Sized; Largest Atlas of Nuclear Galactic Rings Unveiled; Galaxy Merger Dilemma Solved; Supermassive Black Holes Strip Massive Galaxies of Star-Forming Gases; Have Black Holes Been Turning Up the Volume on the Cosmic Radio Background?; From ScienceDaily.com astronomy section.)

merging galaxies
excuse me,
i was just passing by
i seem to be in love with you?

as i:
i think we’re one.
if you must go,
leave me with a ring.

Prompt2 search images for a form of poetry, write a poem in that form related to the picture. i can't even tell wtf this is, some sort of 'seguidilla' stanzas. i searched 'antistrophe,' since it sounded cool.

passage
i am the measurement of motion.
i am the method
of movement. the transient,
eternal hybrid--

i am the inborn symptoms--
the inherent flaws
i am the bane of being--
the eternal clause

i am the proof of passing--
marking growth of life
i am the center of both
permanence and strife.

what you are seeing now has no meaning.

a collection of letters
combining into words
translating into noises
gaining their meaning

that is, after becoming
                                 noises
via your head

sight has nothing to do with it—
words have nothing to do with it—
sounds [the perceivable ones]
have nothing to do with it—

this is
           a collection of noises:

when hummed,
                      universally meaningless.

Poem 1 | Poem 2

The poems are on deviantART because...well...viewing difficulties :V .

Prompt 1 Use a discarded poem to create a new poem, or finish/revise that discarded poem.

Jerusalem
oracles
situated in a historical sense
move in small movements—
shuffle.

recognition—
stripped of illusions.

live coal to lips—
leading to repentance.

forgetting | fidelity | disobedience

oscillate
on this path—
redeemed in
‘exile’
suffering in
‘spirit.’

“Renew the spirit of my
country: we suffer.”

'Learning through suffering.'

might’ve been retrojected.


Prompt 2 Judge a book by its cover.

Ghrey
actually,
this is a misnomer—
this is a world based on color—

where the flight of vultures
and the call of whales
is an art of interpretation

where history is counted
by the number of stanzas
in a long, continuous song

where vision is seen with the ears,
and
where singing and writing and thinking
share the same word,
‘being’

Prompt 1

umoya
the first umoya
were twins:
one decided
it wanted a life
where all paths
are unconceived,
and each breath
something different;

so that it could be
immortal.
this one became ‘wind’

the other decided
it wanted a conscious,
so that it knew when one path
was more enjoyable than the other;

so that it knew
which path would be the end of it,
and so prolong its life.
this one became ‘spirit.’


Prompt 2

ramen
is not instant
(unless pasta is instant)
is not pasta
is not good with cheese
is delicious with sriracha
is delicious with eggs
is delicious with chili oil
is fine as just stir-fried noodles
is warm in the stomach—

excuse me, i’m hungry.

prompt1 make something based on a phrase (you can't make a stone bleed or something like that).


well actually,
this stone
is full of earthy juice
and
when squeezed with force
it will bleed
it’s simply that
no one is quite strong enough
to manage it.


prompt2

four-leafed poem
one
two
three
[invisible]

Prompt One:

i am a thought,
a collection of droplets
scattered in space:

and via gravity
i            conglomerate
into this sphere--

this tangible vial
of drinking water.


Prompt Two:

introduction to clique-based society
part i

we begin our experience from afar
look at all these
people
sprawling in the foodcourt

oh, oh my!
look what we’ve found,
point the camera over there!
do you see that?
a rare live encounter
with an emokid,
much less
a herd of them.

it’s difficult
because they often camoflauge
into their surroundings
&
they’re wearing traditional
black hoodies
[you can’t
tell them apart that way—
strength in numbers!]

no, no,
don’t get any closer!
you’ll scare them
out of their
corner

let’s leave their territory!
or
they’ll start the
wrist-slitting
self defense mechanism!


Prompt 3:

April 15th
...
...

...

this fierce squall is made of crows--
tomorrow flinches when they stretch their
tendrils and caw of
rag na rok!

this storm is full of dust
and rust falls
as pepper
from their flaky feathers
while their wings reverberate.

their saffron eyes
sight that yggdrasil emporium
they fall into a dizzy spiral,
talons bared--

prompt 1 too complicated to summarize.

agua
i am
the ultimate snake,
my girth so seamlessly
curled into your kitchen bowl
that i’ve become this new thing—
“liquid”

your ladle
has scooped out my flesh,
but i am “fluid”—
my blood quickly fills the gap
in just a few ripples.

prompt 2 - poem about imperfection. i cut out the first stanza and the last two stanzas, lol. as such, no title, wot. i'm too lazy.

“I think you ought to make a journal.”

“A journal of what?”

“Of these things you say. A Captain’s Log.”

“But that’s always ridiculous.
You never know if you should be pretty
or pretty accurate.
And I can’t be both.”

“Well,
be pretty!”

“Then no one
will know what on
-Earth-
I’m talking about!”

“Well,
be accurate!”

“Then no one
will know
what is a figure
of speech or not!”

“Then be
both!
Add an appendix—
a glossary.”

“How bland!
How futile!
How dull!”

2/3



8:00 PM
why’s it still bright?
i can’t wait until Fall Back,
so I can turn on the aged
glow of this antique lamp
“early”

i made this poem by looking up the scientific definition for radiant and then rewriting it eight times [with only minor edits each time]. it has no title. it will not get one. it does not need one |V .


tracing flamestone footsteps
left when they hurled
lovingly
into gaia’s deadly embrace,
you travel upwards through
a million invisible constellations
brimming with a million more words
to one radiant origin—
nestled among stars.

profession in translation
listen to me,
i know all about this
"language" thing--

you ask for
food
water
attention
and occassionally conversation happens
about these things, or lack of these things--

high low high is glad
low high low is not--

this is how humans talk,
meow.

Prompt 1 Get a random country through a generator, then write a poem on it based on the pictures found in image search.

Umag
My waters—condensed mists
that slide across the river beds
like liquid,
lining the smoothed stone beaches
and walkways snaking
out of little city alleys—
empty,
except for
a widowed bicycle.

Prompt 2 Write about the elements in an unusual way. I am a sucker for elemental stories, so this is ttly restraint on my part x: . I'll do a full poem later kukuku.

earth
scraping the dragon-imbued
stick of pigment
into a pitch black ink pot
add water
and and you’re free to create
masterpieces
with the excrements of an octopus—
how marvelous
are the elements!

OKAY GOING TO CHECK PCBCOS MATCHUPS NOAW.
Prompt 1

i remember
rows and rows of documentaries
lined up on the shelves next to books

and a very fancy water cooler that we couldn’t get because it was expensive
and a spiral staircase that led
to a place with a lot of machines
and a large television

and my two great aunts serving food
only one of which was related to the family
everyone kept emphasizing
“it’s a different kind of love!”
but i still couldn’t figure out how she was my aunt

and outside the house was built on a hill
with its right leg six feet longer than its left
“make sure to put on the breaks
so no one sues you when your car rolls into theirs!”

but mostly
i stole those smithsonian video tapes
and learned about dinosaurs
(and volcanoes)
and when the television was stolen
(by the adults)
i laid out their smithsonian books out in a row
and read them all.

“Clouds,” one said “make an anvil
shape when they grow too tall.”

“Velociraptors,” one said “are not really
as big as Jurassic Park makes them.”

“Tools,” one said “represent
culture.”



Prompt 2
this is a lai. i dislike the form |V

volcano
this fence marks the line
where that old mountain spine
blows out its insides—
the fiery brine
escapes earthen mine—
and the heated tide,
after devouring pine
and natural shrine—
subsides.

write two stanzas to the tune of a previously shitty poem:

in the event of
something
worthwhile:

what a fine and
deadly
game it is!

-

connect the last line of your last poem to an image. "I was [last line] but am now [image]." For bonus points, try a rondeau. Which I did exceptit'snotinmeterlol.

tap
I was alive, but now I dream—
my night sky lit with cerulean,
casting passive glow on land
unfamiliar yet grand
while its lakes teem

with fish’s gleam
under deep water’s seam
where Luna stretched her hand
to touch a distant world

and on dull scales leave
a mark of moonbeam
a temporary brand
reflected on the sand
all things as I seem
here in this waterworld.

Prompt: 1 + 2 + this image

Eggshell

i am empty decimated to nothing except these shattered shells my innards stolen all

what you left in your first breath a discarded cocoon with unbridled joy in watching your first glimpse exploring the world as a warm-blooded creature live.

Song? I wish.
sing softly on the leveled road
my heart, my heart, my heart
stooping into brimstone land
and clinging still to god--
where is a winged shelter--
                           all I see is a ceiling of thorned bramble.
how in denial is the Lord,
                             that he would make sin:
                             the pursuit of
                             a fellow flower.

Alternative title: My God is Gay, but He Lives in the Closet!

Prompt One: Write a nonsense secret code poem.

heirographa
the
affirmatively capable
lamprey eel
disclosed a panopticon
in the center
of a brokenhearted orchestra

“Plethoric!” shellfish jingled,
“Fullcolored fatihah!
“Our shaitan overpoise
“will entrench this electuary!”

Prompt 2: Find a picture related to your favorite writer and write a tribute relating the two.

i am leaning
back on the faded wood
looking at insects
leap among the wheat

I have no role model!
i think
Except in the things
that i am trying my best
to talk about!

like this,
the bar is high enough
to go up
as a wisp of smoke
in a
half-hearted attempt
to dissimilate
among the spacious heavens.