What I saw in the rainforest (NaPoWriMo #25)

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Found on Pinterest on the board "beautiful nature" by Sarah Ulhaas

In the greenest of jungles I saw a plethora of feathered, furry, scaly creatures,
With rainbow coloured, poison spewing, gravity defying features.

Almost magical stunts I saw when walking the rainforest without a rush.
Secret superpowers of every animal hidden within the brush.

Thin rays of sun stream through dense, entangled canopies shining tiny spotlights.
I saw flower faces unfurling and shiny beetles hooked in fights.

From the sky it is endless emerald framed by deep blue seas that glisten.
I saw a sea of bark and leaves, waves stretched over a nation whose voice is heard if you only listen.

And looking closely I saw little patches in nature’s elaborate quilts.
Edges of barren palm trees where the forest vines slowly wilt.

There are little surprises beneath the sand, under trees of coconut.
I saw the growth of ‘progress’, which I fear is anything but.

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The prompt was to write with anaphora, a repeated phrase, in this case the simple “I saw.” Whenever I think about the damage that has been done to rainforests and that is still occurring today, I feel so ashamed of the human race. It is so sad to think of the diversity and history that we have lost in order to harvest some more oil or lumber or whatever to fuel our money – based society. I do think the mentality that progress is making more money is what is causing the sustainability dilemnas we are finding ourselves in. Anyway, I won’t write more on this here, but possibly in the future.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

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Stones (NaPoWriMo #24) – and a homemade Mother’s Day brunch!

image Mallets carve out stones of flat gritty faces,

Bricks pulled by wooden sleds to far away places,

Stacked in heavy glue until towers bend towards the sky,

Magnificent domes, pillars, and arches standing where the birds fly.

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The prompt was to write a poem that features walls, bricks, stones, arches, or the like. So here it is. I honestly think I have some kind of OCD when it comes to following plans because I could have written a poem sooner, but I HAD to write about masonry because it was the next prompt. I didn’t have a chance to write thoughts for Mother’s Day because I told myself I had to finish my poems series first. Here is a brunch we prepared though, and happy belated celebration to all mothers out there! image Thanks for reading, thebookybunhead

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Japanese Cows (NaPoWriMo #23)

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You know cows
None tattooed
Yammer and bicker
Caught around cones
Moon ash trickles, gone.

This is the original Japanese poem by Monk Ryokan:

Yo no naka wa 
nani ni tatoen 
yamabiko no 
kotauru koe no 
munashiki ga goto

And its translation by Steven D Carter :

Our life in this world – 
to what shall I compare it? 
Its like an echo 
resounding through the mountains 
and off into the empty sky.

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Wow, the Japanese poem is so beautiful. Languages are so diverse and have different stresses of syllables- in Japanese there are so many k’s, g’s, and y’s compared to English, and that’s after translating pictograms into alphabetical notation. Though the “homophobic translation” prompt focuses on similarities of look and sound and not meaning, I can’t help but wonder how different it is read in Japanese with the original words intact. Sometimes I have the urge to just learn a bunch of foreign languages.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

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Little Joey (NaPoWriMo #22)

Little Joey Jimble,
Lost his mother’s thimble.
His soldier was wearing it as a hat. 

Being a polite and sorry chap,
He found an acorn cap,
That fit to do the job, just like that.

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My attempt at writing a nursery rhyme, as a poem for children. Growing up I loved reading Mother Goose, and still have songs in my head from an audio sing-along tape I listened to all the time. Sometimes they didn’t make much sense but the rhymes are charming and so are the names! And there’s something about thimbles that make them collectible, I never really use one, but the designs can be so creative. Acorn caps are very cute too, I mean look!

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Found on nell-miniminis.blogspot.it

  Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

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Bolong (NaPoWriMo #2)

The tofu man’s cart rattles along dimly lit roads,
Calling out to those in want of warm ginger soup.
He clatters a bell piercing through the song of crickets and toads.
In the shadows, a young lady emerges around the loop.
She smiles as he ladles a generous serving into a bowl,
And hands cupping the dish, lets the steam rise up into her face.
It might rain; there is a sound of plopping liquid as she gives it a taste.
Dropping a coin in his palm she hurries away, and to his horror he sees his soup trailing behind,
Through her back from a big gaping hole.

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For a poem based on exotic mythology, I was inspired by a trickster spirit my mother told me about, in the form of a woman with a hole in her back. Bolong means hole in Indonesian, and I suppose it would be a fun (but scary for the victim obviously) prank to play on anything requiring the digestive passageway. I am behind on 30 poems for NaPoWriMo with 10 left to go, but congratulations to everyone who completed the challenge today! I will continue writing the prompts – there is lots of inspiration just not enough time – and hopefully this is not a total faux-pas.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

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Foreigner in New York ( NaPoWriMo #21)

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Definitely one place to visit. Photo source: google.fr

We walked down the famous street absorbing the fluorescent confidence of theatres and billboards, of all artistic and not-so-artistic types.

“So this is Broadway,” she said, eyes flickering light from a blinking sign.

We had gone to see the Statue of Liberty earlier in the day.

Funny that one of the most iconic American symbols isn’t American at all.

“She is French, ” she had pointed out to me, “a gift from France.”

The Parisian actress and singer wanted to see Chicago before flying tomorrow.

Naturally the request had come fashionably late, so here we were looking for rush tickets.

Within running streams of black suits and clicking heels on pavement, are static queues circling squares and blocks.

Art students and cheap tourists among those in line.

We had been waiting for ten minutes when she announced, “I don’t want to be here anymore, too much.”

There was a brief sad glimmer of a glance around the hustle and bustle of eager faces ordering vinegar fries for the grand opening of the booth, before dark sunglasses dropped on her face.

With a flip of a scarf, hair, and heel she strode through the crowd and stuck a hand out over the street.

At least she seemed to like the yellow taxi cabs.

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My attempt at a “New York School” poems which the NaPoWriMo website describes as having a “conversational tone, references to friends and to places in and around New York, humor, inclusion of pop culture, and a sense of the importance of art.” So, yeah. I can hear the city and the accented voices in my head but it doesn’t translate onto paper very easily. And I have never been to New York so my imaginings may very well be the stereotypes presented in romantic comedies. So I made it about someone seeing the city with those stereotypes in mind. Pretty fun, would be cool to do something similar with Toronto as the inspiring city.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

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Walking Around the House (NaPoWriMo #20)

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The dilemnas of being woman of the house from the comic "For Better or for Worse" by Lynn Johnston. Sourced by Yahoo!News

Oh these breakfast plate piles seem higher each day.
At least the sun is out though.
First, into the washer the clothes must go –
And I must remember to set an official date for the girls to play.

These plants look awfully dry – where is that watering can?
And that piano counter is getting dusty,
About the kids’ chores I need be more fussy.

The recital is coming up soon, time to start writing a plan.
Hope the students can count to four,
Remember a couple of steps and more.
That’s the thing with teaching toddlers, you never know where they stand.

There’s baseball at four and piano at seven,
In between I’ll buy groceries for that casserole –
How did this sweater end up with a hole?
Husband will like some potato chips, I reckon.

So many emails, this is why I don’t like cell phones
It becomes rude to not answer instantly
But how can you when messages stream in incessantly –
And this bank won’t stop preaching on the benefits of loans.

Oh no someone forgot their lunch, we should really wake them up earlier.
I think he is fine, he has pocket money,
And for his bee project he brought that jar of honey.
Aww this flyer has cute clothes, but for the little one’s taste might be girlier.
Still, I better check on hi-

Hello? It’s me speaking. May I know who the caller is?
I’m late for an appointment for a manicure?
It was a deal with a complimentary pedicure?
Now how did I forget, what a little thing to miss.

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The prompt was to write in a family member’s voice and I picked mother. She is the invisible organizer and ultimate carer of everything while we are at school, and I’m sure always has a million thoughts in her head at a time. And mothers are always thinking of everyone but herself. My father (who will likely read this) is great and has many subtle tasks of his own, but we’ll save that for the next occasion…

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

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The Perk of Sardines (NaPoWriMo #1)

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Yes I realize this is supposed to be mackerel, but the design is so cute! Posted by Deborah Upton Savedoff on Pinterest

From a hardy thermos to keep droopy eyelids from shutting,

Sips strong hot tea while moving to the back of the bus on feet dragging. Because

of last night’s agonizingly late crunch.

Piecing together a presentation the boss wanted this morning
Announced nonchalantly without the slightest warning –

life is hard. But 

there are grilled sardines for lunch.

*

The last two lines are from “Saudade” by Andrew Johnston as given to me by the Bibliomancy Oracle – a magical  generator of literary wisdom. I was feeling quite stressed out at the time, so this response made me smile. I’ve never actually eaten sardines, but I’m curious to try…

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

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Seashell Wishes (NaPoWriMo #19)

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Very pretty! Photo source: Ayse Balin on Pinterest

Said the snout otter clam to the shoulder blade sea cat,
How I wish I could swim like you.
I hear of great sunken treasures like the Lazarus jewel box but I’m stuck in this patch of the blue.

Said the shoulder blade sea cat to the sparse dove,
How I wish I could fly like you.
Above heavy bonnets and Peruvian hats, and by the glow of the incised moon too.

Said the white sparse dove to the striped engina,
How I wish I could race like you.
With a whistling strawberry top, and power to shatter the air, these Atlantic Turkey wings are overthrew.

Said the striped engina looking at a woody canoebubble,
How I wish I could float like you.
To aimlessly wander in unequal bittersweetness, and not deliver one more false cup-and-saucer or shoe.

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This prompt was to use seashell names in a poem, I’ve included the ones I’ve used in a list:
Peruvian Hat
Snout Otter Clam
Strawberry Top
Incised Moon
Sparse Dove
False Cup-and-Saucer
Striped Engina
Shoulderblade Sea Cat
Woody Canoebubble
Heavy Bonnet
Lazarus Jewel Box
Unequal Bittersweet
Atlantic Turkey Wing

It’s all quite nonsensical but fun, and the poem became a sort of whimsical narrative. Somehow it may have weaved its own moral as well, can’t quite define it though. What do you think?

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

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Ruba’i (Help me think of a better title? NaPoWriMo #18)

A.k.a. “Spring’s Dance” as suggested by Sean or “Return of the Geese” as suggested by Steve:

The wobbly song of geese return behind slate grey clouds of an inland sea
Branches are fuzzy with halos of buds, except the brave green needles of the pine tree
Clicking coffee cups echo up the stairwell and reroasted lunch unmildens lazy air
The sun has yet come out to play, but paved roads exist now to reality.

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I honestly don’t know what to say except I’m sad Easter break is over. I couldn’t even come up with a title so if someone has a suggestion please let me know. I don’t know if I’m just unsatisfied to go back to school or dreading the hectic run to the end of the year, but mornings are so different when you know you have a full day to do whatever you want.

Reference from the NaPoWriMo website:
Today I challenge you to write a ruba’i. What’s that? Well, it’s a Persian form — multipe stanzas in the ruba’i form are a rubaiyat, as in The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. Basically, a ruba’i is a four-line stanza, with a rhyme scheme of AABA.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

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