My Words

NaPoMo poem #24

This is the twenty fourth of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This is about a poet struggling with inspiration, pressing to break through writer’s block.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

My Words

•

I released my words into the cold
they froze and cracked and splintered
which made them sharp and edged
and piercing

too difficult to handle

I thrust my words into the fire
they scorched and warped and blistered
which made them hot and rough
and coarse

too difficult to touch

I abandoned my words in the storm
they soaked and swelled and sagged
which made them bloat and droop
with heft

too difficult to hold

then I left my words quite well alone
in no adverse conditions

and light they rose up from my heart
and soft they rolled from off my tongue

and true they drifted through the air
where suspended souls could find them there

to take them in
and keep them safe
and treat them in a manner fair

to befriend them
in an honest way
until it was their time to share

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem

 

Dissonance

NaPoMo poem #24-A

This is poem twenty-four-A of the poems I will write this April, in honor of National Poetry Month, as proclaimed by the Academy of American Poets.

This, like poem #24, is also about a poet struggling with inspiration, trying to block out the night noises and cacophony that surrounds him on a hot sticky night.

• NOTE: these poems will all essentially be early drafts, so edits may occur after their initial posting.

 

Dissonance

•

relentless whir
in cycled pulse
drones overhead

coarse whisper from above
promises relief
in vain

blades disturb page edges
at rest before me

in irregular rustle they taunt

impatient
untouched

no burden of remorse
no weight of mystery
do they bear

no sting of anger
no wink of mirth
with which to be dispatched

no coin of phrase to spend

dissonance
spills through the open window
the buzz, chirr, and leggy rasp
muffled keens
distant yelps

the edgy din of crawling
prowling night

intrudes in damp insistence
to fill my head
and leave not one small space
for wit or insight

all in vain
there is no relief

nothing clever
or profound
in the air this night

hot, sticky, thick

uninspired

• • •

rob kistner © 2009

___________________________

• you can find other NaPoMo offerings at read write poem