Batman

(Source text: The Encyclopaedia of Fantasy by John Clute and John Grant)

That Night With Her

When she
entered the chamber,
her feet
hardly touched the ground,
so light she was,
like a marigold petal,
carried
on cool currents of air.

And I,
who lay trapped in the dark,
could sense her presence,
felt the tremor
of sobs
as they shook
my mattressed coffin—
I, who should feel nothing.

There, in the dark,
I tasted the blood and salt
of her strange suffering —
this bride to be,
already covered in bruises.
There in my tomb,
I drank from her cup,
the wine of delirious emotion.

It stained me red;
it gave me back my soul.

* * *

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. I love myths and fairytales and I found this prompt to be an inspiring one. I wrote two poems, each exploring food as character.

‘That Night With Her’ is written in the voice of the pea in 'The Princess and the Pea'. To Be Devoured is written in the voice of the cake in Little Red Riding Hood’s basket.

To Be Devoured

The cool white cloth

wrapped itself around me.
Mother made it with her own hands
just like she made me.

She wrapped the girl in red,

but the girl protested,

stamped her foot,

face like a corkscrew.

I laughed to myself,

Don’t look so pretty now, do you?

She wore the cape in the end,

stormed out of the house,

swung me roughly in my basket

as she tore down the path.

Stop! I shouted.

Are you trying to kill me?

She calmed a little,

sung us both a ditty

about love and buttercups and mandolins.

Her voice soothed my seasick soul.

(I almost liked her then.)

I lost myself in daydreams —

Granny would caress me

say how sweet I smelled,

all almonds and cinnamon.

The girl hated Granny’s kisses.

How her cheek glistened with saliva!

I saw her wipe her face

when Granny turned away to stoke the fire.

Oh, Granny!
Won't you consume me with your kisses?

A voice wrenched me from my reverie.

His eyes deep as the forest,

drool dripping

from the corners of his mouth.

It was me he wanted, not her.

All she cared about was skipping in the grass.

I let him know

I longed to be devoured,

longed to give myself

to the wild green of his eyes.

* * *

Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. I love myths and fairytales and I found this prompt to be an inspiring one. I wrote two poems, each exploring food as character.

'To Be Devoured' is written in the voice of the cake in Little Red Riding Hood's basket. That Night With Her is written in the voice of the pea in The Princess and the Pea.

I'm feeling a little hungry now. I think I need to go and eat a piece of cake!

Angel

Today I felt inspired to continue with yesterday’s supernatural theme!

Source text: The Encyclopaedia of Fantasy by John Clute and John Grant. The version I used is the weighty hardback. However, this incredible resource is now available online. It is worth checking out!

How To Be an Effective Ghost

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt:

Many years ago, “didactic” poetry was very common – in other words, poetry that explicitly sought to instruct the reader in some kind of skill or knowledge, whether moral, philosophical, or practical. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write the latter kind of “how to” poem – a didactic poem that focuses on a practical skill. Hopefully, you’ll be able to weave the concrete details of the action into a compelling verse. Also, your “practical” skill could be somewhat mythological, imaginary, or funny, like “How to Capture a Mermaid” or “How to Get Your Teenager to Take Out the Garbage When He Is Supposed To.” Happy writing!

I was tickled by the idea of how to be a supernatural being. Source text: The Encyclopaedia of Fantasy by John Clute and John Grant. The version I used is the weighty hardback. However, this incredible resource is now available online. It is worth checking out!

Hey There

Today's poem is a song!

I Am Thirsty Now

A woman is lying on the ground.
She can’t get up.
I think she will pull me down
into the earth.
I run,
I run from the earth.

My mother is lying on the ground.
She is sleep.
She is darkness.
She is tears.
She sucks the world into her belly
and it never comes out.
I run,
I run from my mother.

The ancestors are sitting in the corner
drinking wine.
They sing me songs of grief and joy
in an ancient language
my skin understands.
I do not want to go towards the earth.
The earth is sprinkled with their blood.
I run,
I run from their song.

Their arms are heavy and slow.
I think they want to put me in a box
and bury me beside them.
I become fast and light.
I run. I run. I grow wings. I fly.

Her arms were heavy and slow.
But they were arms that held,
that pinned me to one place
long enough to be loved

and the earth was a hill
we rolled down and down
and laughed at the tumble of our senses
and the earth
was my grandmother’s garden
where I picked raspberries
for the raspberry pie.

I am tired now.
Look at me:
I can’t even keep a single plant alive.
I walk on rubber,
watch landscapes on TV.
How long it’s been since I went outside.

I am thirsty now.
I cry when I see the men
dancing in a circle.
These are my people.
I long for them,
for the line of meaning
of bread
of hands
stretching back through time.

I am lying on the ground.
I am thirsty now
for a drink of that wine.

Love Letters

The Mirror of You is Waiting

This comics poem is a response to today’s NaPoWriMo prompt:

Because today marks the halfway point in our 30-day sprint, today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates the idea of doubles. You could incorporate doubling into the form, for example, by writing a poem in couplets. Or you could make doubles the theme of the poem, by writing, for example, about mirrors or twins, or simply things that come in pairs. Or you could double your doublings by incorporating things-that-come-in-twos into both your subject and form.

A Royal Conversation

(Source text: 'The Willow-Wren and the Bear' by The Brother's Grimm)

Fortune Cookie

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt:

The number 13 is often considered unlucky, so today I’d like to challenge you to beat the bad luck away with a poem inspired by fortune cookies.

In honour of the fortune cookie theme, I broke out a bottle of Chinese Ink. This was my first time using this ink in a comic. And I loved it. I’ve got a thing for using areas of solid black in my comics. But with the Chinese ink, there is quite a different sense of depth to the shaded areas. I have a feeling I will be using it a whole lot more from now on!

The Walk

Adventure, the unknown
Art, the life of the artist becomes the work of; perhaps this day can be my work of
Artist, I am a performance
Back, you are always just on the point of turning; do you need to turn?
Beautiful, isn't this?
Bench, sometimes you may need to sit on a
Ceremony, anything and everything can be a
Coins, spending steps like
Counting, stop all this endless
Down, do you need to sit?
Expressive, there is another way of moving that is wilder and more
Far, from the car park to the beach is too; the sea is too
Feet, today I am wearing my
Have, how many steps do you?
Human, this journey is beautiful because it is
It, I find myself deep in the middle of
Life, it takes me out of; it takes me deeper into
London, in Cornwall I dream of a simple walk through the streets of
Magic, the sand and the sea work a kind of
More, get out
Now, do you need to turn back?
Otherwise, taking me into realms I would not have gone
Performance art, this walk is a work of
Pocket, these few pennies in my
Precious, these few steps become; the walk becomes
Progress, on the one hand I’m making; on the other hand there seems to be no
Purse, look at the contents of my
Rain, while I was singing to the sea I didn’t notice the
Rocks, if you look carefully you might catch a glimpse of me basking on the sunlit
Sand, walking barefoot in the soft, soft
Sea, the artist goes to the; in London I dreamed of walking by the; singing old songs of the
St Ives, today we are going to
Standing, let me watch my own
Steps, I am buying life with my; other people are rich with their; how are your?
Sunlight, my feet bathe in pools of
Toes, sand between my
Walk, I could make a work of art called the; it’s so good to; It's so damn good to just

* * *

Today's NaPoWriMo prompt: Have you ever flipped to the index of a book and found it super interesting? Well, I have (yes, I live an exciting life!) For example, the other day I pulled from my shelf a copy of on old book that excerpts parts of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s journals. I took a look at the index, and found the following entry under “Man”:

fails to attain perfection, 46; can take advantage of any quality within him, 46; his plot of ground, 46; his use, 52, 56; not to be trusted with too much power, 55; should not be too conscientious, 58; occult relationship between animals and, 75; God in, 79, 86; not looked upon as an animal, 80; gains courage by going much alone, 81; the finished, 89; and woman, distinctive marks of, 109; reliance in the moral constitution of, 124; the infinitude of the private, 151; and men, 217; should compare advantageously with a river, 258.

That’s a poem, right there! 

Today, I challenge you to write your own index poem. You could start with found language from an actual index, or you could invent an index, somewhat in the style of this poem by Thomas Brendler. Happy writing!

A trio of book spine poems

Blueprints

Talking to my body –
enormous smallness.
A book of luminous things.

Blind willow, sleeping woman,
black swan, white raven –
are you my mother?

Blueprints for building better girls:
everyone’s just so so special.
Blabber blabber blabber everything.

There

Picture this:
the narrow road to the interior
through the woods.

East of the sun and west of the moon,
everything is illuminated.
They do the same things different there.

The Shaman’s Coat

Meeting the shadow
remember remember
beware of God.

One hundred demons
kiss & tell
the angel of losses.

War and peace
mistakes in the background
the invisible partners.

The power of myth
tangles
beyond the words.

The shaman’s coat
travels with a circus
after dark.

* * *

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt “comes to us from Lillian Hallberg. She challenges us to write a “book spine” poem. This involves taking a look at your bookshelves, and writing down titles in order (or rearranging the titles) to create a poem. Some fun images of book spine poems can be found here. If you want to take things a step further, Lillian suggests gathering a list of titles from your shelves (every third or fifth book, perhaps, if you have a lot) and using the titles, as close to the originals as possible, to create a poem that is seeded throughout with your own lines, interjections, and thoughts. Happy writing!”

I enjoyed this prompt so much, I ended up writing three different book spine poems!

Kwik Fit

I wasn’t expecting to be able to write a poem today as I was on my way to the forest. However, the journey had a mind of its own, as journeys often do.

The Burning Road

When I place my foot

upon the burning road

I feel the heat of fire.

I feel the cool of fire

when I hold my foot

above the icy road.

But this is my road

and this is my fire

and this is my foot.

My foot longs for the burning road of fire.

This is my second poem of the day and my second tritina, too. Here, I experimented with shorter line lengths and an even simpler structure. You can read my first tritina, ‘The Women’, along with a description of the tritina form, here.