Tag Archives: NaNoWriMo

#295: Simultaneously

product-big-mac

251 babies are born every minute
and 105 people die.
That’s not sustainable, just saying.
18 million people just got
into a motor vehicle, not the
same vehicle, obviously.
There are 1500 active volcanos
and earthquakes are always happening.
75 people just bought a burger
at McDonald’s.
75 people just bought a burger
at McDonald’s.
This goes on–every second–75 burgers.
On my meditation app,
when my closing bell rings,
my phone tells me how many
people were meditating “with” me.
For fun, I’m going to meditate
right now for a minute.
Mmm. That was nice.
3,771 people just meditated
with me. 4.5 billion people
are asleep at any given moment,
which makes sleeping a lot
more popular than meditation.
If you spend enough time
thinking about how many
people in the world are doing
exactly the same thing you’re
doing in any given moment,
you might feel yourself small
and insignificant. You are.
And you are not. You share
molecules with Shakespeare
and that star that exploded.
Everyone can claim as much.
You are tiny and everywhere
at once, and that should really
make you feel accomplished
right along side the rest of us,
simultaneously.

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#286: When Easter Falls on April Fools Day

Jesus-with-a-basketball

The first poem
of the month
has a provocative
title, and suggests,
provocatively,
that Jesus was
joking. He made
us think he was
dead and then
rose again on
the third day,
the first day
of April, to
shoot hoops
with his friends.
Most everyone was
totally fished in.
You would be.
But of course,
the day we
celebrate Easter,
if we celebrate
Easter, is arbitrary
and changes every
year depending on
some mysterious
force in the calendar
universe, which,
in and of itself,
is a kind of April Fools
joke. Jesus was not
born on December
the twenty-fifth
and he did not rise
from the grave on
April the first.
No one really knows
when he was born
or when he rose
from the grave–
and for this and
for a bunch of other
stuff, he has been
laughing at us
for a very long time now.

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#7: Six Statements and a Question

Write a poem in which each line is a single declarative sentence until the last line.  The last line should be a question.  That was the prompt today on www.napowrimo.net and I took up the challenge.  I thought, that since today was the seventh day of the poetry writing extravaganza, that my poem would contain six statements and a single question.  Ended up as an nine-line poem, though.  Didn’t like a long line dangling out there all by itself at the end.  It’s kind of a slight thing, a kind of catalogue of the last twelve hours.

Six Statements and a Question

We’re almost out of coffee, again.
The wind has been heavy.
It blew open the basement door.
Last night I found a slug down there, forlorn.
This morning I had pancakes with my son.
I sacrificed the last of the maple syrup and used powdered sugar.
Tell me, is there anything that needs doing
that could not wait, could not wait
another day at least?

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