Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches loosely onto the withered soul
And sings a melodious tune
Without the need of tough words
Nor meaning, this sweetest sound,
Seems endless like the curling of tides
With much rhythm but no reason
In the harsh gale is heard.
Sorely greedy must be the storm
That could dare to abash the little bird
That kept so very many undead corpses warm
And resurrected them anew.
So ruthlessly greedy must be the storm
That it took away the music which
I’ve heard in the chilliest land and
On the strangest sea
Which yet, never in extremity
Asked a crumb of me.
NaPoWriMo April 2015 Day 5 prompt: Today’s exercise asks you to do something similar, but in the interests of creativity, rather than ill-conceived “correction.” Find an Emily Dickinson poem – preferably one you’ve never previously read – and take out all the dashes and line breaks. Make it just one big block of prose. Now, rebreak the lines. Add words where you want. Take out some words. Make your own poem out of it!
The poem I chose is called ‘Hope’ is a thing with feathers by Emily Dickinson
Did you like it? Did you not like it? Was it reconstructed enough or just copy pasted? Let me know what you think about it. Have a splendid day y’all!
I was a wanderer before I met you.
Oblivious to my loneliness,
I used to hop on trains and gaze at stars from my window
Running and jumping gave me thrill,
A thrill compared to nothing when you hold my hand and say those three words.
I used to go to places and watch them through a key hole,
A key hole of my lone experience
But with you, they’re like different planets to me
And every inch of the destination feels like a foreign rock i need to take home,
Not even as a souvenir but as a monument,
Signifying how special and fantastic I feel when I am with you.
You know what happiness and home have in common?
H and of course you.
In fact, you are my home now,
A home to this wanderer
A home, this wanderer can take with him,
A home with whom I can hop on trains and buses,
With whom I can chase uncountable sunsets.
A home that will welcome me no matter how flawed I am
And a home who is beautiful in every possible way.
NaPoWriMo April 2015 Day 4 prompt: Love poems are a staple of the poetry scene. It’s pretty hard to be a poet and not write a few – or a dozen – or maybe six books’ worth. But because so many love poems have been written, there are lots of clichés. Fill your poems with robins and hearts and flowers, and you’ll sound more like a greeting card than a bard. So today, I challenge you to write a “loveless” love poem. Don’t use the word love! And avoid the flowers and rainbows.
Okay. Okay. I know it’s cliched. I am sorry. Really. I couldn’t come up with anything else. Ugh.
And this poem was inspired by two characters of a British serial called Doctor Who – The Doctor and Rose Tyler – because both of them are such cuties that they make me cry every time I think about them. Poor things.
Also, just to clarify, yes, this is a spoken word poem… not exactly spoken out loud. I suck at it, so, no.
So, did you like it? Did you not like it? Was it awful? Was it too cliched? Do tell me! I would love to get feedbacks so that I can improve on this hobby that I have taken up.
My grandmother is a hilarious senile lady
She wears saggy old traditional clothes and fills up her
nonexistent bosom with paper and coins and money
Because she has absolutely neither a heart nor love
to give as it withered along with her soul and body.
Clever she is as a wicked witch though who disguises
Her wickedness with the holy glitter of a fairy.
Practitioner of seven sins she is. But in the end,
She is a senile, hilarious, tiny old lady.
NaPoWriMo April 2015 Day 3 prompt: Today I challenge you to write a fourteener. Fourteeners can be have any number of lines, but each line should have fourteen syllables.
You never traced your fingers on my arm
You never felt my throbbing pulse on seeing you
Just an inch away from me, oh goodness
I guess, it was when I lost myself to you.
You were the warm cloth that eased my pain
Existing on this earth – day in, day end.
You were that ignorant, insufferable soul
That made me bleed and made me whole.
You were young, you were spectacular
You were something from a whole new world
And when you went away to where you came from,
And when you lay in my arms that still, starless night
I caught your whisper and released it into the sky,
I turned you into mighty bright stars; up, very high.
‘Orion’ you shall be called from now on, my love
You burnt my soul and so the sky you now burn.
NaPoWriMo April 2015 Day 2 prompt: gaze upward, and write a poem about the stars. You may find inspiration in this website that lists constellations, while also providing information on the myths associated with each one, as well as other salient information. Your poem could be informed by those myths or historical details, by the shapes or names of the constellations, or by childhood memories of seeing them. Any form or style will do.
This poem is narrated by Artemis and is about a greek myth involving Artemis and Orion.
They don’t take birth or bathe
Yet they are immortal and pure.
They won’t fit in your palm
And like water, they’ll flow
Out from between your fingers
Back into their initial form
But you’ll remember
How silky they felt
Against your skin, caressing
The hard calloused hands.
Lie they don’t for rest
Yet they could rival sloths
In movement, never in grace
and yet these books
are not hindrances.
NaPoWriMo April 2015 Day 1 prompt: Today’s prompt is a poem of negation. I challenge you to write a poem that involves describing something in terms of what it is not, or not like. For example, if you chose a whale as the topic of your poem, you might have lines like “It does not settle down in trees at night, cooing/Nor will it fit in your hand.”
The topic I’ve chose is clearly (I hope) : ‘Books’ because I love books! Yay. I hope it abides to the guidelines because this is the first time I’ve written such a poem. If it doesn’t, then please let me know in the comments! Thanks!