NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 30th APRIL 2013 // HOW TO LOSE MY SOUL A HOME

And now our final prompt! Find a shortish poem that you like, and rewrite each line, replacing each word (or as many words as you can) with words that mean the opposite. For example, you might turn “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” to “I won’t contrast you with a winter’s night.” Your first draft of this kind of opposite poem will likely need a little polishing, but this is a fun way to respond to a poem you like, while also learning how that poem’s rhetorical strategies really work. (It’s sort of like taking a radio apart and putting it back together, but for poetry). Happy writing!

 

 

 

walking, bleary-eyed

tomorrow

i know well how to lose my soul a home :

wherever fire is thirsty

but water is stone

i never learn

and i’m not convinced anymore

that everybody

and everybody

can make it out there just with love

 

love, full of love

nobody, i say nobody

can make it out there just with love

 

poor people

with money to spend

girls, not women

children, not men

there is no doctor

for their useless souls

and nobody

yes, nobody

can make it out there just with love

 

love, full of love

nobody, i say nobody

can make it out there just with love

 

don’t try to get closer

i won’t tell you what i don’t know

the sky may turn gold

the wind may turn kind

the earth may turn the sea

and i won’t see you anymore

because nobody

and nobody

can make it out there just with love

 

love, full of love

nobody, i say nobody

can make it out there just with love

 

 

 

a.aime

 

(ORIGINAL POEM : ALONE BY MAYA ANGELOU)

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15624

 

 

 

 

 

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 29th APRIL 2013 // A BOAT-SHAPED WOODEN HEART

And now our prompt. In honor of the many poets outside of the United States who are participating in NaPoWriMo, Gloria Gonsalves (originally from Tanzania and now living in Germany) has suggested that we try writing poems that contain at least five words in other languages. You could perhaps write a poem that takes place in a foreign country or, like our featured blogger for the day, write a poem based on overheard conversation (inclusive of foreign words). So whether you have to dig deep into what you remember from high-school Spanish, or use a dictionary to translate a few interesting words into other languages, why not drop a Mohrrübe or an asciugamano into your work today (even if it seems de trop. Happy writing!

 

 

 

I let the front door open.

 

I run out.

 

run away, run away, run away little starlet!

 

but I still hear your voices…

i still hear the words of your broken promises,

i still feel the blade of your mediocre love brushing my skin,

i still see your ghosts in my head…

 

AAAAAH!!!!AAAAAH!!!

scream, scream, scream louder little starlet !

( oh you are so spectacular girl, so clever, so unique, you are what I’ve been searching for, I love you, I’ ll never let you go…I PROMISE … )

AAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

run, run, run faster little starlet..

 

i stop and spin round, round,

round again… faster, harder,

until i fall on the ground and close my eyes.

 

rain on me,

now,

please,

rain on me…

 

I am leaving this world behind,

to you,

where you all belong.

 

I am sorry,

but I belong to a different place…

 

I belong to this rainy sky.

 

and when you’ll be thinking of me,

just picture a girl in a boat-shaped wooden heart,

waving a red balloon,

from the middle of a lake…

 

I’m there, where your heartless souls will never ever reach me…

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 28th APRIL 2013 // EVERY SINGLE SHADE OF GREY

And now, the prompt (as always, the prompt is optional). Today, I’d like you to pick a color. How many synonyms are there for your color (e.g., green, chartreuse, olive, veridian)? Is your color associated with a specific mood (e.g., red = passion, rage, blue = hope, truth). Look around the room, take a walk — note everything you see that is your chosen color. Then start writing, using the color as a guide. Happy writing!

 

 

overwhelmed by senses

she doesn’t miss a thing

nothing

everything

she perceives everything

every single shade of grey

haunts her black and white portrait

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 27th APRIL 2013 // PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN GLASS HOUSES SHOULD NOT THROW STONES

And now the prompt! Think of a common proverb or phrase — something like “All that glitters is not gold,” or “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Then plug the first three words of the phrase into a search engine. Skim through the first few pages of results, collecting (rather like a poetic magpie) words and phrases that interest you. Then use those words and phrases as the inspirations (and some of the source material) for a new poem. Happy writing!

 

 

 

vulnerable defenceless unknowns

haunt me

red, green, yellow, blue and violet stones

on me

same old thick skin tones

i see

 

i love rainbows

 

 

 

 

a.aime

 

( PROVERB: ” PEOPLE WHO LIVE IN GLASS HOUSES SHOULD NOT THROW STONES  ” )

 

 

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 26th APRIL 2013 // YOU ARE STILL THE SUNSET FROM A PUBLIC OFFICE

And now the prompt. This one’s a bit tricky. Back in 1977, the poet Ronald Johnson first published “RADI OS”, an “erasure” of Milton’s “Paradise Lost”. Basically, Johnson took a copy of Milton’s long poem, and systematically erased whole words and even lines, while maintaining the relative position of the remaining words. You can see a brief excerpt here. Today, I challenge you to perform an erasure of your own. Go ahead and copy and paste the text into a document, and then start whiting-out words. Or make a photocopy of a long poem you like, and mark over words on the copy. You can form a whole new poem just by taking words away! Once you’re done, you can leave the spaces as they are (I rather like the “ghosted” look of all that empty space), or take the left-over words and keep playing with them, reforming new poems from them. Happy writing!

 

 

fire is your faithful friend

black eye-liner to go off to war

to the left edge of the galaxy

( the humidity of the garages )

our souls gasping for breathing

for a temporary occupation

it was an endurance race

take me to the blind with you

i’ll be the airship in your inconsolable storms

( give me 50 cents )

couldn’t realize your mirrored earrings

were shooting subliminal flashes

couldn’t realize the lines of your sight

you are a woman a woman a woman

we will put beds everywhere

we will fly dirty mattresses

( the smell of bleach spreads )

we will sleep with our clothes still on

we will be gipsy herons

but all the sparks you make

is not productive enough

such a shame now that you were so near

but you are still the sunset from a public office

( jesus christ hanging on the walls )

you are mine

to betray and shine

i will always keep your eyes as an amulet

in the hidden pocket of my coat

and you will come back from the world

maybe

one day

you will come back home

a.aime 

( translated, adapted, erased and changed )

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 25th APRIL 2013 // YOUNG VETERANS OF FOREIGN WARS

And now, our prompt. Traditionally, ballads were rhymed poems that told a story of some kind, and were often set to music. They were sometimes set in four-line verses, with an ABAB rhyme pattern, employing alternating 8 and 6 syllable, iambic lines. This 8/6 iambic pattern is sometimes referred to as ballad meter. The use of this type of pattern was not universal, however, and old ballads often involve different syllable counts, as well as refrains that break up the verses.The form has generated many sub-genres over the years, including the sentimental ballad (think “Danny Boy“), the gruesome murder ballad, and of course, the power ballad. The form’s come a long way from the folk songs with which it began, but the narrative aspect of the ballad remains intact. Your ballad could be sad, or funny. It could tell a tale of love, or murder, or just something silly. If you have any musical talent, it might be fun to try and actually make a tune for your ballad! Happy writing!

 

 

 

same souls, the darkest shades

young veterans of foreign wars

nights painted in red blames

rusted razor blades on sad floors

 

major scale, golden knights

a magician will fly a dove

a symphony of white lights

will raise poetry, chaos and violent love

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 24th APRIL 2013 // SELF – PORTRAIT

And now, the prompt! Today I’d like you to think about words buried in words. In particular, think about the words buried in your own name. Plug your name into an anagram generator, like this one, and try writing a self-portrait poem using words that are generated. Happy writing!

 

 

 

 

a late gig tit zoo

a age glitz it too

a gaze guilt it too

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 23rd APRIL 2013 // HOURS OF PEACE, MILES OF LOST TIME

And now our prompt. Today, let’s try writing triolets. A triolet is an eight-line poem. All the lines are in iambic tetramenter (for a total of eight syllables per line), and the first, fourth, and seventh lines are identical, as are the second and final lines. This means that the poem begins and ends with the same couplet. Beyond this, there is a tight rhyme scheme (helped along by the repetition of lines) — ABaAabAB. Happy writing!

 

 

hours of peace, miles of lost time

dreaming a forsaken illusion

oh, electromagnetic mine!

hours of peace, miles of lost time

oh, so alive, our minds entwine!

oh, so deep, red blood transfusion!

hours of peace, miles of lost time

dreaming a forsaken illusion

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 22nd APRIL 2013 // A HUMMER IN MY HEAD

And now, the prompt. Today is Earth Day. The first Earth Day was celebrated in 1970 and is now celebrated internationally. In honor of the occasion, I challenge you to write a poem in keeping with Earth Day — it could be a reflection on what’s growing in your garden, a modern pastoral, or a Marianne-Moore-style poem about an animal. Anything to do with the natural world is fair game. Happy writing!

 

 

TO THE STAFF OF NAPOWRIMO.NET

AH!

keep waiting for the day i will write anything about freakin’ Mother Nature .

sorry, so sorry

( not really )

i just can’t

human beings have been doing this since they learnt how to write.

the first words ever written on earth ? a poem about it.

again, again and again.

and again.

and again, again, again.

a hummer in my head.

oh, so banal and annoying..

kinda we are back in the 60s

kinda we are hippies on acid that actually think to be back in 60s

kinda we are fucking idiots

you said honesty is the best policy :

you didn’t put any effort in your prompt,

i won’t put any effort in my poem.

kind regards

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 21st APRIL 2013 // 17 FORTUNE COOKIES

And now the prompt! Today I challenge you to re-write Frank O’Hara’s Lines for the Fortune Cookies. Hopefully, you won’t have any problem — after all, the ideal fortune is a one-liner, and one-liners thrive on a very poetic compactness of expression. This should be a good chance for all of us to practice that, and amusing to boot. Happy writing!

 

 

you are so unique and different, like every other human being.

you will suck(cess) in life!

you will meet Jesus soon, but you won’t recognize him.

you will share this fortune biscuit on instagram, facebook, twitter, pinterest and every other fuckin’ social network.

you are beautiful. that’s it.

you will marry a dickhead and you will get used to it.

it’s actually better you marry rich. trust this little cookie.

the future is stupid. you also are. it’s gonna work.

oh, it seemed a good idea to you at the time. am i right?

you are so disappointed you turned into everything you said you’d never be. ain’t you?

you will read a book tomorrow, instead of watching your daily porno and masturbate. yes i know.

common people envy you.

you will buy some good weed and deliver it to the address on the back. now.

you’ve just eaten chinese. are you sure?

you are a (smart) ass.

you were the fastest out of millions of sperms.

i was trying to write a good compliment but nothing came to mind.

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 20th APRIL 2013 // BILIOUS STAINS

And now, the prompt. Today I challenge you to write a poem that uses at least five of the following words:

[……………………………………………………….]. Happy writing!

 

 

your presence has now become absconding prisoner.

 

you, the owl with elusive eyes

you, generator in my miraculous nights

you, mercurial ghost whispering life

you, willowy cowbird unwind

you, artillery fire, a real live wire

now..bilious stains are hard to justify.

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 19th APRIL 2013 // WANTED!

And now our (completely optional) prompt! Today’s prompt comes to us from a list that Daisy Fried put together: Write a poem in the form of a personal ad! Or, if you like, try any kind of want ad. Personal ads, though, do have a kind of poetry to them. The personal ads of the London Review of Books are particularly famous, and have even spawned a book. When I was younger, one of my favorite guilty pleasures was getting a copy of the local alternative newspaper and reading through the personal ads for (a) witty ones and (b) really horrible ones.(Oh, and by the way, the personal ad doesn’t actually have to be about you, of course. Feel free to invent every last thing about it). Happy writing!

 

 

WANTED

a smart, kind woman with really good

values, i don’t care much about the

body, but must appreciate a good fuc-

schia garden, sweet cuddling and long phone tal-

king, without getting too serious.

please read line 1,3 and 5.

 

 

 

( real ad from craiglist modified.AH! )

 

a.aime  

 

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 18th APRIL 2013 // LIFE IS TIME OUT OF MIND

And now our (as always, optional) prompt! Today’s prompt comes to us from Cathy Evans, who challenges us to write a poem that begins and ends with the same word. You could try for something in media res, that begins and ends with “and,” for example. Or maybe “if.” Or perhaps you could really challenge yourself and begin/end your poem with a six-dollar word like “antidisestablishmentarianism.” (Just kidding!) Whatever word you choose, I hope you have fun with it!

 

 

i smile.

i fail, i try a major scale and search for a new light.

i smile.

i paint, i destroy and it’s fire i ignite.

i smile.

i’m pure chaos,  i say bye and vanish in the night.

i smile.

i’m the excesses of life, i’m either black or white.

i smile.

regardless of your kind, i’m out of your sight.

i smile.

i broke all the mirrors, life is time out of mind.

i smile.

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 17th APRIL 2013 // A REGARDLESS MIND

And now our (totally optional) prompt! Early on in the month, I asked you to write a valediction — a poem of farewell. Today, let’s try the opposite, and write poems of greeting. There’s lots of things you could greet. The spring? Your new stapler? A favorite classmate? An addition to the menu at your local cafe? The subject’s up to you — now get out there and say “hello!”

 

 

white nights

stolen images

the power of luxury

the luxury of power

homeless faith

fire in my veins

mascara down my eyes

invisible bruises

broken words

broken world

killing days

another mistake

chased by the man in grey

a shame for what went wrong

 

to your colors i’m blind

it’s my freedom that i signed

a thank

a regardless mind

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 16th APRIL 2013 // A VICTIMLESS CRIME

And now our (optional, as always) prompt. This is an oldie-but-a-goodie and it ties in nicely with our featured link! Today, I’d like you to write a “translation” of a poem in a language you don’t actually know. Go to the Poetry International Language List, pick a language, and then follow it to a poet and a poem. Generally the Poetry International website will present a poem in its original language on the left, and any translation on the right. Cut and paste the original into the text-editing program of your choice (and try not to peek too much at the translation). Now, use the sound and shape of the words and lines to guide you, without worrying too much about whether your translation makes sense.Once you have your rough “translation,” you could leave it at that, or continue to shape the poem. It’s up to you. Happy writing!

 

ORIGINAL FORM IN ROMANIAN: Această tristeţe nu este a mea by Doina Ioanid ( this sadness is not mine )

Această tristeţe nu este a mea. E a bătrînilor care nu mai pot urca scările, a copilului care nu poate vorbi, a bărbatului furios de propria-i neputinţă, a acestei primăveri tîmpe ce se hrăneşte cu morţii mei, a femeii care nu-şi mai poate seduce bărbatul, a zilelor ce nu reuşesc să rămînă, a fetei devorate de lumina nordului. Această tristeţe nu este a mea şi cu toate astea nu pot să scap de ea.

 

I WROTE A NEW POEM KEEPING JUST THE SOUNDS OF THE TRANSLATION OF THE WORDS IN AMERICAN ENGLISH ( SO ITS NOT A TRANSLATION, ITS MY WORK )

 

NEW POEM : A VICTIMLESS CRIME

a coast, trust anew in me. and bats won’t care my pot or scars, an eclipse cares a new faith for me, barbarians furious about their repellent properties, accept your primary time, honest, a victimless crime, a female care, my truelove knot is seducing the barbarians, sailor flashes, it’s raining, war cry, a clash dissolves the north light. a coast, trust anew in me, see how cute is the new girl with pot and scars, at the sea.

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 15th APRIL 2013 // SHE SMILES THE SKY

And now our (again — totally optional) prompt! Today, I challenge you to write a pantun. Not a pantoum— though they are related. The pantun is a traditional Malay form, a style of which was later adapted into French and then English as the pantoum. A pantun consists of rhymed quatrains (abab), with 8-12 syllables per line. The first two lines of each quatrain aren’t meant to have a formal, logical link to the second two lines, although the two halves of each quatrain are supposed to have an imaginative or imagistic connection.The associative leap from the first couplet to the second allows for a great deal of surprise and also helps give the poems are very mysterious and lyrical quality. Try your hand at just one quatrain, or a bunch of them, and see how you do!

 

 

she used to laugh out loud, out of control

at all those people who called her crazy.

now she just sings out her theatrical role

at all those people she gives a daisy.

 

she used to cry out loud, out of control

at all those people who said her goodbye.

now she’s her own positive magnetic pole

at all those people she smiles the sky.

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST//14th APRIL 2013//THE END OF THE FANTASTIC 5.TRUE STORY.

And now, our prompt. Today’s should be fun — I hope. I challenge you to write a persona poem — that is, a poem in the voice of a particular person who isn’t you. But I’d like you to choose a very particular kind of person. How about a poem in the voice of a superhero (or a supervillain)? Comic book characters are very much like mythological characters — they tend to embody big-picture values or personality traits. Good or bad. Loyal or disloyal! (Heck — some comic book characters are mythologial characters — think of Thor). And like mythological characters, superheroes and supervillains let us tap into deep-seated cultural tropes. So go for it. Whether you identify with Batman, Robin or – gulp – the Joker, let’s hear your poems in another voice. Happy writing!

 

( today’s prompt really sucks.what are we 15?what am i supposed to write? )

 

 

the Thing: ” hey Ms. Fantastic, wanna get laid ? uh? ”

Lyja ( Ms.Fantastic ) : ” why not? ”

 

and this is how ” the Fantastic 5”  became ” the Fantastic 4 ”.

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 13th APRIL 2013 // FROM PUB TO DRUNK

And now our (totally optional) prompt. Yesterday’s prompt of saying what you’d never say was sort of a doozy — rather emotionally intense, I think, for a lot of you! So for today, let’s relax. Your prompt for today is simply to take a walk. Make notes — mental or otherwise — on what you see on your walk, and incorporate these notes into your poem. A bit more serene and observational than yesterday, and hopefully a nice, calming poem to begin your weekend with. Happy writing!

 

 

OBVIOUSLY THEY ARE SONGS MIXED TOGETHER.

WHAT I COULD THINK OF AT THE MOMENT AND THE SENTENCES I WAS ABLE TO WRITE DOWN.

SITTING IN PUB, FROM PUB TO PUB, FROM PUB DO DRUNK.

THE LIBERTINES.

 

the boy who liked to kick at the world

the world kicked back a lot fuckin’ harder

i know you lie i’m still in love with you

you can’t stand me now…

have we enough to keep it together?

or do we just keep on pretending

that our luck is never ending?

 

if you wanna try…if you wanna try

there’s no way else you can do…

oh oh oh

i know you lied all you do is make me cry

( oh all those words that ain’t true… )

can take me anywhere, i can take you everywhere

that you wanna go…

 

and if i have to go…i will be thinkin of your love

oh somehow you’ll know..you’ll just know…

thinkin of you….i was carried away….

we’ll meet again someday

but my boy there’s a price to pay.

 

all you can be is given in your hands:

trust in me and take me by the hand.

we will die in the class we were born

but it’s a class of our own my love!

 

( ignorant faces that bring this town down )

 

i try to make you see…but you don’t wanna know…

what became of the dreams we had??

what became of forever??

well, we’ll never know.

 

is it cruel or kind not to speak my mind and to lie to you?

rather than hurt you…

well i’ll confess all of my sins after several large gins

but still i hide from you..

hide what’s inside from you.

 

and all the memories of the pubs and the clubs and the drugs and the tubs

we shared together…

will stay with me forever!

but all the highs and the lows and the toes and the froes they left me dizzy..

and all the memories of the nights, and the fights and the blue lights

we flew together,

well i hope they’ll fly forever..

i no longer hear the music…

 

and the love bell rings

when you say you heart still sings

when you are with me

oh won’t you please forgive me?

i no longer hear the music…

 

and now,

what you are gonna do Katie?

you are a sweet sweet girl

but it’s a cruel cruel world…

my safety pins are none too strong katie…

to hold my life together..

and i never say never yeh i’ll never say never again.

 

but since you said goodbye…polka dots fill my eyes..

but since you said goodbye…polka dots fill the sky..

and i don’t know why.

 

 

with love.

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 12th APRIL 2013 // HOMELESS, AMISH OR HIPSTER?

And now, the prompt. Today’s offering comes to us from Charles Bernstein’s list of poetry experiments. In particular, today I challenge you to “write a poem consisting entirely of things you’d like to say, but never would, to a parent, lover, sibling, child, teacher, roommate, best friend, mayor, president, corporate CEO, etc.” Honesty is the best policy, after all, so get it off your chest!

 

 

 

dedicated to you, guys, standing 24/7 outside the ( emh..emh ) cultural association just in front of my house…

listen..

i’ve been living here for two months now and…

just one question : what the fuck are you?

are you fuckin’ homeless,  fuckin’ amish guys or just a bunch of fuckin’ hipsters?!?!

please enlighten me, because i really can’t get any fuckin’ difference.

and most important, when i see you,

i never know if i should give you some cents, some questions or just a kick in the ass.

 

with love,

your neighbour xx

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 11th APRIL 2013 // I STILL BELIEVE IN MERMAIDS

And now, our prompt! Today I challenge you to write a tanka. This, like the “American” cinquain, is a poem based on syllables, with the pattern being 5-7-5-7-7. They work best when those final two 7-syllable lines contain a sort of turn or surprise that the first three lines might not wholly anticipate. You can string a bunch of them together to make a multi-stanza poem, or just write one!

 

 

 

it’s also my fault,

i do understand it now

it’s mostly my fault,

i was trying too hard

you were too tired and i was too drunk

 

it’s also my fault

i do understand it now

it’s mostly my fault

if you ran away that way

you were too far and i was too close

 

it’s also my fault

i do understand it now

it’s mostly my fault

because i was too happy to realize

you were not yourself and neither was i

 

so now forgive me

my smiles, my excesses, my life

cause it’s not my fault

if i still believe in mermaids

and i still believe you were the one

 

 

 

 

i don’t know if you will ever read this.

anyway is for you xx.

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 10th APRIL 2013 // THIS IS A POEM OF SARCASTIC DISLIKE

And now, the (again, optional) prompt. Many of us have read and even written love poems. But have you written an un-love poem? An un-love poem isn’t a poem of hate, exactly — that might be a bit too shrill or boring. It’s more like a poem of sarcastic dislike. This is a good time to get in a good dig at people who chew with their mouth open, or always take the last oreo. If there’s no person you feel comfortable un-loving, maybe there’s a phenomenon? Like squirrels that eat your tomatoes. (I have many, many bitter feelings about tomato-eating squirrels). There’s lots of ways to go with this one, and lots of room for humor and surprise as well. Happy writing!

 

 

 

 

you are my chocolate easter egg on christmas day

you are my oxygen in the middle of the forest

you are the cherry on my kebab

what i mean is…

you are completely useless.

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 9th APRIL 2013 // THE SWEETEST DEATH

And now our (totally optional) prompt. I’m a sucker for a good mystery novel, especially the hard-boiled noir novels of the thirties and forties. There’s always a two-timing blonde, a city that keeps its secrets, and stuck in the middle, a man who just can’t help but rabbit after truth. Today I challenge you write a poem inspired by noir — it could be in the voice of a detective, or unravel a mystery, or just describe the long shadows of the skyscrapers in the ever-swirling smog. After all, “you know how to write a poem, don’t you, Steve? You just pick up a pen and you write.”

WEDNESDAY, 9th APRIL 2013

I do, I clearly do remember what happened that day.

It was Monday, 8th, April 2012.

I woke up

I washed and shaved my face

I had breakfast

I went to work

I did the same shit i did everyday.

When I came back home I found a letter from abroad, impossible to see exactly where it came from.

Inside, I found a picture of a stabbed unicorn, turning on a carousel, crying blood.

And a message. written in the left corner, in capital letters: ” LOVE IS THE SWEETEST DEATH. ”

I threw it away. I thought it was probably a joke made by some kids.

 

 

It has been one year now since I received that letter.

And I am now writing my own one.

A suicide love note.

 

 

367 days ago my life had no sense because there was no love.

I found it eventually, I trusted it, I believed in it.

Then, suddenly it was taken away from me.

Love was able to see my soul, to find it, and then steal it.

And now, I feel like an empty book,

laying on a shelf among other useless old books,

completely aware that nobody will ever look at me again, or search my name.

 

 

And so World excuse me, while I live you behind.

 

 

All I can say is that if could come back,

I WOULD STILL CHOOSE THE SWEETEST DEATH.

 

 

with love, by a man who could love.

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 8th APRIL 2013 // MEMORIES

And now, the prompt (again — the prompt is optional!). Because it’s the 8th, I thought we might try writing in ottava rima — an Italian form that, in English, usually takes the form of an eight-line stanza of iambic pentameter, with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c. The most famous poem in English that uses the ottava rima form is probably Byron’s Don Juan. If you haven’t read it, it’s wickedly funny! It’s really amazing how contemporary Byron’s language is — it’s like he’s your mean-girl friend just gossiping at you in verse. But unlike Byron, you don’t have to write an entire epic in ottava rima! Just eight lines will do for now. Happy writing!

 

 

I wanna know too much,

you wanna play the same game.

I  am on fire, burning too much,

your candles have got no flame.

I loved you all too much,

your mediocrity is such a shame…

but even now that i am far from you,

it’s still memories i keep looking through.

 

 

 

a.aime

 

 

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 7th APRIL 2013 // PRODUCE,CONSUME AND THEN DIE!

Speaking of which, here is our optional prompt for this, the seventh day of NaPoWriMo. I challenge you to write a poem in which each line except the last takes the form of a single, declarative sentence. Then, the final line should take the form of a question. With any luck, this will result in poems that have a sort of driving, reportorial tone, but with a powerful rhetorical finish. Let’s hope so, anyway!

 

 

 

WAKE UP!

GO TO SLEEP!

GO TO WORK!

PAY YOUR RENT!

WASH YOUR HANDS!

CHANGE YOUR UNDERWEAR!

GET SOME FAKE FRIENDS!

BE A GOOD CITIZEN!

PRODUCE, COSUME AND THEN DIE!

WHAT THE FUCK??

 

 

a.aime

 

 

( sorry bout the  ” powerful rhetorical finish ”)

 

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 6TH APRIL 2013 // GOODBYE

And now, our (completely optional) prompt for the day! This might seem like a bit of a downer, but I challenge you to write a valediction. This is a poem of farewell. Perhaps the most famous one is John Donne’s A Valediction Forbidding Mourning, which turns the act of saying good-bye into a very tender love poem. But your poem could say “good-bye” (and maybe good riddance!) to anything or anyone. A good-bye to winter might be in order, for example. Or good-bye to the week-old easter eggs in your refrigerator. Light or serious, long or short, it’s up to you!

 

 

goodbye.

goodbye is all he said.

 

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 5th APRIL 2013 // YOU ARE

TODAY’S CHALLENGE: A cinquain is a poem that employs stanzas with five lines. Each line has a certain number of accented or stressed syllables, and a certain number of overall syllables per line. In the “American” cinquain, a form invented by a woman with the highly unfortunate name of Adelaide Crapsey, the number of stresses per line is 1-2-3-4-1, and the number of syllables is 2-4-6-8-2. So the first line would have two syllables, one stressed and one unstressed. The second line would have four syllables, two of which are stressed, and so on.

 

you are

you already are..

i asked you everything

because it’s everything i need.

you did.

 

you are

you already are..

i asked you to be real

because it’s your presence i need.

you ‘re here.

 

 

a.aime

 

 

 

 

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 4th APRIL 2013 //A Fine Disregard For Awkward Facts

her blames

her pains

her secrets

her punishments

her pasts

 

in silence

 

she hides.

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 3RD APRIL 2013 // BETWEEN SPACE AND DEATH

I mean…I want this possibility to be clear

 

TO EVERYONE!

WE CAN CHOOSE!

we can choose to refuse this world.

we can choose to search for another one.

we can even be that lucky to find our own.

but you must dare to,

you must have the courage to,

you must be strong enough to..

..to let it go and don’t be afraid.

don’t be afraid to be sit between space and death…don’t!

because if you are,

it means you are sitting AMONG THE STARS!

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 2nd APRIL 2013 // TEARS OF UNICORN

today this pavement smells familiar. I’ve never really appreciated the bristly surface of this carpet,

but when he embraces me with this hysterical strength,

i can nearly feel my mother’s uterus closer to my baby little fingers.

the desert around me makes me feel like a crowned Queen.

it’s just…my bones, just my bones i want to feel buttoning up to the earth.

what else? i’m tired of this war, i’d come back to my far far Paris,

or to a waitress uniform or just something white,

to hide this vocation for triumph and cry.

the curves of the carpet,

indeed,

follow the lineaments of my face,

already torn apart from the tears,

from the willing to throw away these ideas,

that somewhere inside are ripping my stomach apart.

my heart is in the throat, in the throat of the void.

as if, in the desert, there was only one light, mine.

but what’s the difference? what’s the difference??

I walk, my face covered in tears,

because they can’t find me anymore,

because i’m alone with my idea.

and now i’m a little scared.

even just a voice, bring me down to the ground, again;

but this time, the carpet isn’t embracing me anymore.

nobody is embracing me anymore,

because i’ve erased my past, i’ve erased my present and i’ve erased my future,

that now is just me and is working as a waitress.

now the wind outside is raping me.

i can see the street. i can see many lives. but i cannot see mine.

I picture her happy, chased by poppy petals all along Beirut’s high road,

i picture her playing with tea leaves, and paint her hair black,

then white, then back to black, and finally white again.

I miss her now.

I miss her because art is not cold. art is not static. art is a journey, not an arrival.

it’s a procedure, not a product.

her, my life, has become my cause and consequence. and now she’s not here!

because to be both woman and artist, you must lose within yourself,

without any help, you just have to let yourself fall.

and the lack of balance will be your new stability.

yeh, ’cause i lost my thread,

i’ve tied my filaments to the wrong edges,

and now, even just a voice, dissolves them in the insatiable vortex of life,

of the continuous movement.

and now wish i could come back to something white,

white white white,

completely white: but my clothes, are not that white anymore.

life has ejaculated on them for too long and now they got the color of her sperm.

milan, amsterdam, london, paris, LIFE , why did you let me go?

i feel you pulling back…

i feel you changing shape…

and then, when i’m about to set me free,

you stand in front of me

and let all the filaments slide down to the earth;

and with my hands to the sky,

I forsake everything.

a.aime

NaPoWriMo CONTEST // 1st APRIL 2013 // HEY DAD

I TRIED TO CALL MY DAD YESTERDAY

FOR THAT EASTER SHIT I DON’T EVEN BELIEVE IN.

 

HE SAID HE WOULD LOVE NEWS ABOUT ME,

THE NEWS THAT I’M DEAD.

 

HERE I GOT SOME NEWS FOR YOU.

 

I AM HERE,

I AM ALIVE!!

 

AND I’VE LEARNT TO DANCE IN YOUR DARKNESS,

AND SHINE IN YOUR SHADOW..

 

NOW,

I’VE LEARNED TO LOVE MY OWN WAY.

 

 

A.AIME