Back on April 5th, the prompt for NaPoWriMo was quite complicated.
“It’s called the “Twenty Little Poetry Projects,” and was originally developed by Jim Simmerman. The challenge is to use/do all of the following (the list followed) in the same poem. Of course, if you can’t fit all twenty projects into your poem, or a few of them get your poem going, that is just fine too!”
I got most of them in. Stuff like: Begin the poem with a metaphor. Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place. Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem. Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . .”. Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person. Use a phrase from a language other than English. And a bunch more.
Here’s the final product:
today is a loaf of bread the sky’s fresh-baked goodness calls out and lures you, Juliette, to come and play to Siesta Key’s pure white sand today is a pie it’s chocolate-pecan-apple all over today is a mere slice of bread just a taste of life in the sun I closed my eyes and you were gone, Juliette it gave me the frissons the tender band of hope reached out but it didn’t touch Juliette, you soar above the ocean you will rise above us all Mae watches helplessly knowing you will come down but not knowing where your jellied wings will melt Ca c’est bon the pie speaks of love the bread rises again
I discovered Sean of the South this year and when I see see his name in my inbox every morning I know I’m in for a good read on his blog. He writes about everything, but a recurring theme is the loss of his dad when he was 12. He even mentioned that someone has said he talks about that too much. I don’t think so. It’s a part of him.
Grief touches us all in different ways. When my Dad died I grieved, but so much was going on in my immediate family that I didn’t really have time to stop and grieve. It hit me about eight or nine months later. Like a knock down punch. Mom had been grieving in her own way. I remember she wasn’t eating enough at one point, then later it was the opposite – she was eating a lot of sweets which was unusual for her.
She also could not listen to music for a long time, because it always made her think of Dad. It was quite a while before she began playing the radio again.
This year for NaNoWriMo I’m attempting the family story once again. Last year I wrote about 23,000 words. This year I’m trying to redo it in the forms of verse and letters. So I’m reading/rereading the tons of letters I have here, from 1925-2015. Today I read a letter Mom wrote her sister, Billie, a month after their mother, my Mamaw, died in 1983.
“Seems like for the last couple of weeks I’ve had a delayed reaction to Mama’s dying. Can’t explain it, but I guess it’s a natural thing, I don’t know.”
It really struck me all over how much I miss Mom. Lately I’ve found myself tearing up with an overwhelming feeling of loss. It just comes over me and I can’t control it. In three months it will be two years that she’s been gone. I know I’ve talked about it a good bit here; forgive me.