April 2023

NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 30

Our final prompt of 2023 is to write a palinode – a poem in which you retract a view or sentiment expressed in an earlier poem. I did not know that this is a poetry “thing” which is ironic, as that is precisely what I did for yesterday’s poem!

So, to keep on prompt, I have reflected on my work this month, paid homage to 30 other contributors and tried to build in some of the exercises and things I have learnt this month. I’m a bit of a competitive sod, so opening up the page each morning is always seasoned with the hope of seeing my poem being featured. Alas, that was not to be this year, but I do hope my positive position I take in reading other’s work comes out in this one.

………………………………………………………….

Adjust your seat, gently throttle back, bring up the clutch and release the brake:
Vroom, vroom, vroom – and we are away!

1. So, being dead inside is out of date – now THAT’s a fun fact
2. Open a new book, the one with the earth and moon on the cover
3. To let in the surreal owl of crystal sunlight
4. That comes to sleep in reverse in my head.
5. There is no snow, but in the dark three cats doze upon my bed.
6. Opening my arms to an imaginary partner, one of them, the
7. Croation cat, stares at me; I hold my breath.
8. Sidra lists the places I have cried to
9. The sound of bread and meat slapping my mother’s walls.
10. I indulge myself in this smudging ceremony.
11. But now is the time to heave Ho, and haul away me hearties, to seek
12. The easy answers I can give.
13. So, I think and think. Thoughts fly like kerosene whispers, like
14. Creepy critters, lost ideas dealing with elevated uneasiness.
15. I turn to my phone for inspiration, it’s always with me, a taxing burden,
16. That speaks in an unknown language of scholars that prefer something else!
17. The desire eats at me like a virus, why can’t you tell me why? Your absence does not help.
18. I recall my volatile, volcanic childhood and let the wind take me, repeatedly.
19. The moment diverts me from my dumbest of dreams, as only alphabets can do,
20. Or the way that reversing bears in caves do too.
21. I dig deeper, only to find articulate octopi in my way
22. Another perspective? A cosmoglance maybe? Tears under the plum tree leave me notwantinganything – well, possibly.
23. Like this self-reflective piece that brings peace, I shout (quietly) at expectant constellations and refuse to cease
24. Go easy on yourself, as with all things, we like certain parts more than others.
25. Soft are the footsteps of the museum creator who sweeps away my stain, leaving me
26. To hug the pillow of hope, to refuse its opposite grave embrace.
27. I catch IT; in glimpses and slivers,
28. In the bouquet of yellow Celosias,
29. It is coming to an end, perhaps some indices would please, but no.
30. And now, we are all more Nigerian. Amen to all of that.