#NaNoWriMo, #NaPoWriMo, 50 Day Blog Challenge

Thankfully, today is the last day of NaNoWriMo, something I participated in once and never again. This year I was tempted to do something to feel part of a writing community but nothing quite attracted me. But when 3 things converged: NaNoWriMo, my subsequent discovery of NaPoWriMo (similar to NaNo but for poets), and a writer friend posted her 50 Day Blog Challenge, I decided to do a combo of all three.

Why poems? It started when I started feeling overwhelmed during this time of transition, selling our home in Las Vegas, moving back to Florida but living in temporary housing while waiting for our new house to be built. I was lying in bed, unable to sleep in the middle of the night, so I grabbed my iPhone and started expressing myself through poetry, thinking it could all be fodder for future songwriting.

Then I started getting addicted to expressing myself through poems. I also realized that those who advise you to do object writing as a songwriting exercise have it all wrong. It shouldn’t be about an object – it should be about a feeling. Certainly for me.

I think I ended up writing about 55 poems and so the challenge ends with the ending of NaNoWriMo, which ends today. I’ll probably continue to write poems because I find it quite a satisfying way to express a feeling or an idea or an observation. And it was a wonderful way to discover other poets and bloggers in the WordPress community who stopped by to follow my blog and/or “like” my poems. There are some really talented people out there.

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Mothers & Daughters (#poem)

Mothers and daughters can love and can hate
The relationship can change from age to age
Some things remain the same and this is what the world knows
But only those in the know can know and this really blows

To be so close yet never know them at all
The facade they show their mother and at the Kingdom Hall
Years later a clue leads you to truth you resist
Nothing makes sense until you see through the Narcissist

These daughters of these mothers are their own special breed
For most of their life they’ve been down on one knee
Until this moment when they seize the day
Leaving behind chaos and walking away

Once Upon a Time (#poem)

Once upon a time wisdom wore pearls
Women wore red, pink was for little girls
The world has forgotten what used to be
I heard it in a song, don’t listen to me

I saw it on TV, the wedding in pink
I knew what I would write about, I didn’t have to think
I remembered the apple dress trimmed in blue
And wearing those shiny, candy apple red shoes

So I wrote my novel on a Florida Lanai
I binged on Hawaiian Tropic and a Jimmy Buffet high
I cruised the Caribbean with women of 3 generations
And each of them came to the same conclusion

I finished the book, sent it off to an agent
She offered representation, said my writing was poetic
She kept the title knowing without being said
Women wear many colors, but real women wear red

Choices (#poem)

Swollen breasts strain against a t-shirt
Ripe with motherhood questioning the future
Young girl’s fingers caressing the keyboard
Pimping music like a surgeon’s suture

Life changing moments in an instant
Can be swept away as if they never existed
To have and to hold as life unfolds
When your instincts scream “go, go, go!”

Choices we make can be a burden
When chasing dreams, escaping the warden
When you lose your way in the dark of night
Accept the gift in the flickering light

 

Me, too, but that’s not my problem (#poem)

There’s a lot of talk about “me too”
Listen, I’ve been there but it’s more than that
There’s a lot of talk about girls with no clue
They’ve been overlooked on the job or in the class
But that’s not my problem

Men who’ve stared at my chest
Instead of looking me in the eye
Sometimes it was what they said
Can I molest you or see you on the sly
But that’s not my problem

There’s a man who let me go
Didn’t care to protect me from men like that
Or so I’ve been told
By a woman who never had my back
Mustn’t do better than she could do – mustn’t be so bold
But that’s not my problem

We’ve all been given a purpose
It’s who we should be – it’s who we are
Dig deep, reveal what’s below the surface
Don’t be afraid, we all have our scars
That’s our problem

Double Life of a Middle-aged Woman (#poem)

I walk to the neighborhood shop
And back three floors to the top
On stairs with tossed cigarette butts
Past decorated doors recently shut
Booming bass vibrates the floor
Like post hurricane waves smacking the shore

I drive past new houses built on golf courses
Views of country roads peaceful with horses
Fishes, turtles, sand, and sea
The new scent of home they all tell me
Poetry, wine walks, and music do thrive
Here I’m a neighbor, am seen, and alive

Back to young families, couples, and singles alike
Kids’ toys, their dogs, and even their bikes
Pools, lounges, outdoor grills, and hotties
A twenty-something living in an aging body
Parties, late nights, loud music, and strife
Hides a middle-aged woman living a double life

Closing Time (#poem)

Guard gate rattles
Rap music vibrates
Engines humming
Shaking me awake
It must be closing time

Dancing til dawn
Straight to the office
No time for sleep
What madness is this?
Staying up past closing time

Working in the City
When I was young
Early bird breakfast next door
Night shift drinking beer and rum
There is no closing time

Nights in Waiting (#poem)

Nights are hell
Tic toc tic toc
Cats are screaming
Tic toc tic toc
It’s twelve o’clock

Sleep escapes me
Tic toc tic toc
My mind is reeling
Tic toc tic toc
It’s one o’clock

The calendar beckons
Tic toc tic toc
Pages crawling forward
Tic toc tic toc
It’s two o’clock

Smart phone whispers
Tic toc tic toc
Thumbing through photos
Tic toc tic toc
It’s three o’clock

Sleep overcomes me
Tic toc tic toc
Dreaming of losses
Tic toc tic toc
It’s four o’clock

The world awakens
Tic toc tic toc
Motors are revving
Tic toc tic toc
It’s five o’clock

Other creature’s schedules
Tic toc tic toc
Cats demanding breakfast
Tic toc tic toc
It’s six o’clock

Showers and coffee
Tic toc tic toc
Me gently sleeping
Tic toc tic toc
It’s seven o’clock

 

Disillusionment of a Writer (#poem)

When did we become so political?
Passersby in separate camps
When did we become so critical?
Of friends, lovers, uncles, and aunts

This is not how we live our lives in person
Why must it be so online?
People misinterpreting
Being so unkind

Do they do this on purpose?
Or is it happenstance?
Do they do this for a purpose?
TMI or lack of brain synapse?

I’m becoming stingy with my words
No longer writing volumes of novels
The drive to share, well, social media killed it
Just like romance readers killed chick lit

Nobody listens anymore
They like without clicking the link
They form an opinion way before
They take the time to read the thing

Yes, I’m becoming stingy with my words
Writing poems, songs, and music
Writing for me has far more allure
Than writing for the public

One Wise Man (#poem)

I’ve had plenty of men in and out of my life
But it’s not what you think
I’m not looking for a man looking for a wife
Who will take me beyond the brink
I’ve been looking for that one wise man
I’ve been looking my whole life

I searched and I searched from land to sea
I searched and I searched on back roads and highways
And then one day I saw a man with the biggest smile I’d ever seen
I offered him warmth and he looked at me
As if he’d been waiting all along
For a woman without him who would still be strong

But once I beheld that loving gaze
I knew I’d found him as I studied his face
To have and to hold when I felt all alone
Like angels from Heaven singing their song
The sun and its power with all of its shine
Told me he loved me and I would be just fine