Here’s the seventh sonnet on the seventh day, a full week of two poems a day for a month. Right about now, the 20 days ahead is looking to me like a long haul. Today’s sonnet includes some extra-credit, bonus material. Sometimes 14 lines is not enough. So how about a twenty-eight line sonnet? Or,Continue reading “#486: I wouldn’t call myself insomniac . . .”
Tag Archives: National Poetry Month
#485: Wish You Were Here
I knew that I recognized this prompt from NaPoWriMo today. Total deja vu moment as I found myself looking to the web for a free graphic I could use of the back of a postcard. Then I just gave up and wrote the poem. But I wanted to know for sure, and, lo and behold,Continue reading “#485: Wish You Were Here”
#484: Kevin was obsessive, compulsively so . . .
Kevin was obsessive, compulsively soand would sometimes anger when things didn’t gothe way he liked, would bite with sarcasm, poke at his wife, but this was his worst. Even though he’d say that when he metmy sister, he was a drugged-up mess, from the beginning none of us saw this. What we saw was aContinue reading “#484: Kevin was obsessive, compulsively so . . .”
#483: A Mom Thing
My mother was not Jewishbut would often use the nameof the traditional wineas if it were a swear word. She’d exclaim in frustration,“Manischewitz!” I never learned why she did this, nor did I knowwhat the word meantand I never asked. Only after she died, and I was thinking about all the oddballsayings of hers, didContinue reading “#483: A Mom Thing”
#482: Shakespeare tried to immortalize his love . . .
Shakespeare tried to immortalize his lovein sonnets, in perfect iambic linesand in masterful metaphor, enjambed rhymes.What lives on is the poem, not the person. But it’s better than nothing, I suppose,and everyone who dies should have a poemcomposed in their memory, 14 lines,a poem that preserves something of a soul, that argues that the worldContinue reading “#482: Shakespeare tried to immortalize his love . . .”
#480: My brother-in-law died from his cancer . . .
My brother-in-law died from his cancerat home on February twenty-fifth.I hadn’t seen him since October lastwhen he still had some hair and could carryon with conversation as if he was not really sick. Even then, though, he hadconfined himself to the sofa; he could physically do little else and welikely knew that it would neverContinue reading “#480: My brother-in-law died from his cancer . . .”
#479: Spiders
Once gigantic spider-like creatures ruled this world. They were as big as lions or gorillas. The Strangest Things in the World, Thomas R. Henry Spiders I don’t kill spiders any more. For the most part, I ignore them.When I can, I scoop them upand I put them outside, which, depending I supposeon the variety ofContinue reading “#479: Spiders”
#478: So I resolved in the new year to try . . .
So I resolved in the new year to trya meditation practice once againafter a two-year mindfulness dry spell.Not entirely mindlessness, but close. For whatever reason, I could not sitand my cushion languished without me.But during that whole episode, I knewsomething was wanting, something was amiss.It’s not enough to write a ten-syllable line; no amount ofContinue reading “#478: So I resolved in the new year to try . . .”
#477 Surrealism is Dead: A Prose Poem
Surrealism is Dead It died right alongside Irony in the second and third decades of the 21st century. We tried to revive it. We administered the CPR. We kept the airway free. We turned it on its side so it wouldn’t choke on its own vomit. Finally, it gave up the ghost. Now, we lookContinue reading “#477 Surrealism is Dead: A Prose Poem”
#476: Please be advised to like and to subscribe . . .
Two days into National Poetry Writing Month and so far I’ve met my goal of writing two poems every day, one of which must be a sonnet. I don’t know if this is sustainable. Only time will tell. . . Please be advised to like and to subscribe . . . Please be advised toContinue reading “#476: Please be advised to like and to subscribe . . .”
michael jarmer 