GloPoWriMo

2022 NaPoWriMo – Day 1 (Prose Poetry)

~ Unwrithings ~ 3 Comments

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is: Write your own prose poem that is a story about the body. 

You animate your body awkwardly, like you are using the wrong muscles for the wrong movements. I watch you untangle yourself from your desk, lumbering limbs you loosen out, angled arms you arrange around—unwrinkling yourself up. I want to readjust you like my trainer does my own body: “Pull back the shoulders, straighten the back, use the core,” she repeats like a mantra. You lean to the left when you walk. It’s quirky, or maybe an injury. I want to nudge you to the right, hold you in place. One day, we are finally formally introduced. “Nice to meet you,” you say with the biggest grin that’s ever been. I feel everything escape my body. All that is left is a desire to see you smile again, to be the one that makes you smile. I jerk my hand forward awkwardly, almost punching you in the gut. “Nice to meet you too.”

Drop

~ Unwrithings ~ 7 Comments

I

drop

hints and eloquence.

I

drop

bad habits, old friends,

all the make pretends.

I

drop

my heart anxiously,

my stomach constantly, in knots.

I drop what I forgot.

I

drop

masks and too hard tasks.

I

drop

to my knees, praying, begging please.

I drop what is heavy, what I don’t need.

I

drop

conditions and expectations,

pretenses and messes.

I

drop

tears that linger

at the cusp of my chin.

I drop fights I cannot win.

I

drop shows and stories before their

endings so I can go on pretending.

I

drop

words of comfort, love notes and hope.

I drop it for you. For the you that will maybe, someday, pick it all up and offer it back to me, an understanding, of all I have lost and all that I still am.

Excavate

~ Unwrithings ~ 2 Comments

You can tell me a thousand times,
that everything will be alright,
but that doesn’t make it true,
especially coming from you.

There is nowhere left to hide,
when I’ve used up all my lies,
there’s nothing left of me inside.

I don’t want to die,
I just don’t want this life,
I’ve tried to hint, that I’m not in this,
but what difference does it make,
when everyone feels the same?

But what happens to me,
when I’m emptied?

It’s been too long,
it’s been too few,
I can’t seem to get through,
especially to you.

I’m raising my white flag,
I’ve had enough of that,
Enemies now seem,
like friends to me,
hoping for peace,
I’m suffering.

I’m being tossed in the sea,
endlessly, trying to breathe.
Give me a break,
before you take and you take,

Stuck in these walls,
they know it all,
and I’m leaving it here.

When you excavate,
this lonely place,
all you’ll find, is my pain.

NaPoWriMo Day 11 – Letter Exchange

~ Unwrithings ~ 4 Comments

Dear Author

It’s not fair,
to end my story,
here.

Tell me there’s an epilogue,
before long,
or a sequel,
where I get free will.

I need more pages,
of your imagination.
I need more time,
in your mind.

Dear Character,

I’m afraid,
I can’t be swayed,
Your storyline’s through,
I have no words,
left for you.

NaPoWriMo Day 10: Junk Drawer Song

~ Unwrithings ~ 2 Comments

I have Band-Aids to heal wounds from knives,
and should have thought twices,

I have alcohol wipes, to reduce the risk,
that anything sticks.

I have gauze, to wrap a wound,
of any cause, to include
burns, and bees, and
the clumsiness of me.

I have cold compresses, for hot messes,
or heating pads, for muscles mad.

I have pills to hold the hurt,
or curse words to let it burst,

But I have nothing,
nothing,
to heal,
the painful parts,
of my heart.

NaPoWriMo – Day 17 (Forgotten Tech)

~ Unwrithings ~ Leave a comment

Today’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) prompt is: Write a poem that features forgotten technology. (Photo is of my refurbished 1938 Underwood Champion!)

Sometimes,
I feel as obsolete,
as an antique,
typewriter—
My stories used to delight her,
until I fell out of favor.

Typewriter

NaPoWriMo – Day 15 (Music)

~ Unwrithings ~ 1 Comment

Today’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) prompt is: Write a poem inspired by your favorite kind of music.

Okay, clearly I am way behind on NaPoWriMo, but I have a decent reason. I had to focus on finishing my capstone and graduating with my Master’s in Health Systems Administration (not easy going back to school in your 30s, but I am DONE!). This means I have more time to focus on my writing now, and I plan to still finish NaPoWriMo, albeit later.

So, back to the prompt, my favorite genre of music is country. I imagine this poem being sung in the style of Girl Crush by Little Big Town. I don’t know why, but that song was in my head when I wrote it, and I do love the song!

I’m lovesick,
there’s no cure for this,
as much as I wish,
I can’t get over it.

I’m achin’ for your touch,
my body’s heating up,
it’s serious, I’m delirious,
thinking of you,
there’s nothing I can do,
I’m lovesick for you.

I wish I could recover,
find another lover,
to feel less weak,
and find some peace,
but there’s no relief.

My head hurts from all the thinking,
dreaming, and make believing,
I’ve forgotten what’s it’s like,
to not have you infecting my mind.

I’m lovesick,
there’s no cure for this,
if you only knew how,
I’m suffering now,
put me out of my misery,
and say you’ll never love me.

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NaPoWriMo – Day 14 (Inspiration)

~ Unwrithings ~ 5 Comments

Today’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) prompt is: Write a poem that deals with the poems, poets, and other people who inspired you to write poems. So, I was excited to see this prompt because I immediately thought of Gerald Callahan’s essay, Chimera. This essay has inspired so much of my writing since I have a creative writing and health/science background – and his essay was the first piece I ever read that drew on both fields. Years after reading the essay, I wrote a poem inspired by it. See below!

Some of our DNA
are relics of viruses
from past infections
so scientists say.

Envelope viruses like the flu,
carry lipids, protein,
and the stuff of genes,
from the hosts they travel through.

I like to think,
this means:

After years of sharing a home,
and conceivably the flu,
I’ve collected pieces of you,
stored in my chromosomes and genome.

You are not lost, you see,
You make up parts of me, literally,
saved in my “immunological memory.”

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