NaPoWriMo 2017: Retrospect

For the second time now, throughout the month of April I wrote one poem every day in recognition of National Poetry Writing Month.

I first wrote for NaPoWriMo soon after I initially began to write poetry, meaning that, with the completion of NaPoWriMo 2017, a milestone of 1 year of writing poetry has been reached. That is, for over 365 days I have been phrasing words in a prolonged attempt at creative writing, and I am happy that I have lasted this long. In any case, NaPoWriMo was a wonderful literary challenge—it certainly got more difficult to keep up with the cyclic passage of the sun as time went on, especially when I ended up being on an out-of-country that ripped me away from the wonderful (addictive and desensitizing) realm of the internet. Cheers to the passage of April 2017, and I'll be waiting happily for the arrival of NaPoWriMo 2018.

                

#0111 - 30 Days

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 30}

These varied rhymes
'cross 30 days
have found their way
through different styles.
The month has gone,
but coming times
should soon bring on
new written lines
continuing
to sing like songs
or strum like strings.
Rights and wrongs
     will always ling-
     -er 'mongst these things.

#0110 - Musings

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 29}

I

I wouldn’t say I’m sober now,
But neither am I liquored up.
I guess I’m just preoccupied
With existential thoughts.

And that is why I seem distraught:
While part of me’s awaiting death,
The second part is clinging on
To this simplistic life.

I’m floating by and trudging ‘long,
I’m hoping that a glimmer of
Enlightenment will find its way
To this imprisoned mind.

I wish I were a bird because
I’d have to move through air instead
Of trudging through these expecta-
-tions, sorely overwhelmed.

II

You’d think that air would rightly be a breeze to travel through.
But something ‘bout these sounds and stares keeps holding back my feet:
These horrid expectations that are always finding me
I’d rather have replaced with clubs or knives of crimson hue.

This populace is filled with people that refuse to care:
A massive presentation of this world’s fatuity.
These ersatz feelings pave the way for thoughts that torture me:
That everyone is simply waiting for my mind to tear.

The stares devoid of any thought replace the dreams of past;
Forgetting what they once lived for, these people are now grey—
Their dull indifference seeks to spread its deadly grip to me.
I’m chained and beat by glares and stares, but hold my ground, steadfast.

III

There are a million paths through life, and e-
-very one is forked to form a million more.

At every gateway there’s a second door
To lead you faster to your final end.

It offers you a short respite, an end
To all the gloomy things that may assault

Your mind and propagate your countless faults,
Which never cease to bring torment and doubt.

Thus, Death is there, awaiting your last bout,
Which drives you grimly, quickly ‘cross the edge—

That ever-present scythe with sharpened edge,
That cloak of darkness standing motionless.

Don’t let yourself be drawn by what Death says;
It’s easy to be happy when some nic-

-eties find you, but not so otherwise.
If life were not made up of darker times,

The better times would not be so sublime.

#0109 - Światła

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 28}

Światła,
jak les Simples Soldats
maszerują przez czarną pustynie.
Niecierpliwi, ale wolni,

oni przez sto lat już
formują kręcące trasy
przez urbanistyczne mokradła
i polowe niezwykłości.

#0108 - Silhouettes

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 27}

Silhouetted against the night sky,
stars form shapes—
patterns and contours—
in a puppet-show display.

White Rorschach splatters
perform their artistic stillness
on a pitch-black canvas
of infinite vastness.

This is white shade
creating analogous long ears
and slender muzzles and showing
that shadow is a point of view.

#0107 - Haiku XII

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 26}

You can’t attempt to
Hide your own shadow without
Creating more shade.

#0106 - Stockholm Syndrome

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 25}

Do you remember when,
upon a successful landing,
the passengers of a given flight
would give a round of applause to the pilot?

It's that type of unconditional respect
that is progressively becoming extinct;
it is that mutual altruism
that's being replaced with stoicism.

It's Stockholm Syndrome.
People like acknowledge each other
only when they are held inescapably
captive by one another's company.

Unequivocally self-centered
they will remain
for as long as they're offered
any means of escape:

Blasting beats,
ductile displays,
or just something to stare at
in infinite space.

But give them the motivation
of more pay or a better place,
and they'll suddenly will themselves
to speak with someone else.

#0105 - Cinquain IV

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 24}

Lód

Jest jak
Płynące szkło;
Czysty, naturalny...
Jakoś zaprasza, ale zim-
-ny—mróz.

#0104 - "Phobias...haze"

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 23}

Is society so anarchic
because it's people are anarchic?
Or because everyone's view is laser-focused,
but on a superficial goal?

Xenophobia, homophobia,
amongst many other phobias,
are the perpetual insomnia
of society, keeping people awake at night.

Aspirin, Aderall might help a little,
but only for a one-time headache.
If the migraines persist perpetually,
will you just keep yourself doped up perpetually?

I guess the "doped up" makes sense:
everyone sees the problem,
but they only ever stare at the elephant
in the room as if in a cloudy haze.

#0103 - Student's Plight

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 22}

This massive flood of texts and books, so bland
Cannot prepare a student to go on
Or even just to start to understand

The things in which they wish to play a hand.
With frantic grip they must for life cling on:
This massive flood of texts and books, so bland—

It threatens, makes one wish to quick aban-
-don hope and with their tired wits abscond
Or even just to start to understand.

If we say knowledge, wisdom, are both land
On which we must survive, then is it wrong,
This massive flood of texts and books, so bland?

Or is it for each woman and each man
Required to within this life move on,
Or even just to start to understand

The shifts, changing, always moving sands
That form this life's eternal, abstract song?
This massive flood of texts and books, so bland,
Is nigh-impossible to understand.

#0102 - "Patience"

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 21}

If patience lasts for centuries
and rashness lasts for only days,
then which of these is always bound
to go a longer way?

#0101 - 420

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 20}

So strange a day
to commemorate
to getting high
on smoke divine.

If days were so readily
committed to steadily
elevating family/community/society
rather than one's doped-up psyche
we might be in a better place,
pummeling ignorance with steady pace.

"Blazing it" is fun, sure,
but I propose a day for,
instead of burning toxic seeds,
planting convalescent seeds

of knowledge.

#0100 - Haiku XI

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 19}

The poet's tired;
He writes a brief haiku in-
-stead of a sonnet.

#0099 - Haiku X

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 18}

Darkness of the night:
The world changes when shed in
A different light.

#0098 - Kickstart

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 17}

Acres of mire and
pitchers of fire can't
shift my direction much
more than a breeze. || The
day's here to seize so I
make it my mission to
thrive in this grind and to
leave doubts behind.

#0097 - "J'ai rencontre un homme"

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 16}

J’ai rencontre un homme:

En un café rempli des démons et monstres
il était assis, espérer que le temps
passé avec sa peur, son stress
restaurerait sa innocence épatant.

«Je sais que je suis une proie,» il a dit.
«Je me demande seulement qui
me chasse maintenant; je fais face mes peurs,
mais je trébuche sur formes nouveaux des douleurs.»

Mais il craint quoi; ses vices voulusses?
Son humilité, ou caché égoïste?
«Tous et tous; ces et plus—
c’est l’espoir, c’est la vie.»

#0096 - Haiku IX

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 15}

Dry cacti, cool pines;
Vast natural opposites,
Yet each grows sharp spines.

#0095 - Cinquain III

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 14}

Hindsight:
Something passes.
One vainly wishes to
Revisit once more that which is
Long gone.

#0094 - "Deconstructing diligent diversions"

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 13}

Cogitating cognitive conundrums—
abrasive, abstruse abominations
deconstructing diligent diversions
satiating simple succours
warding worrisome wishes
undeniably unattainable. Unreasonable:
pulchritude pervading pigsties.

#0093 - To Know

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 12}

If I could know a hundred million things,
I don't know if this craving would abate;
or even if an end to these stirrings

can truly come... Can I myself satiate
this cursèd cluelessness? Or am I, now
and always, doomed—wisdom's prison's inmate—

to only, always humble, lowly bow
and, seeking, pray to some enlightened mind
and hope that I can grasp some knowledge? How

am I to keep from staying dully blind?
Or am I to be with this void aligned?