NaPoWriMo: Day 12

In Quarantine

“I can’t,” my son says.
“I can’t. We’re in quarantine.”
The girl blinks, eyes blank.

“It means we can’t play.”
He fiddles with the doorknob.
“Not until later.”

He closes the door,
But peeks through the hanging shade.
“I wish this would stop.”

In the yard next door,
The girl plays with her cousins.
My son watches her.


Day Twelve Prompt:  The suggestion was to write a triolet, but I’ll be honest, I fucking hate triolets.  This was something that happened today between my five-year-old son and his next door friend.

NaPoWriMo: Day 11

Easter

Warring on my tongue,
The sharp tang of vinegar
And sweet chocolate

Back of my throat thick
With cheap chocolate bunnies
From the dollar store

Saliva pooling
From the tang of salvaged eggs,
White flesh stained rainbow

Gorging ourselves sick
(As was Easter tradition)
On eggs and chocolate


Day Eleven Prompt:  Um… honestly don’t remember, ha ha.  Did this one a day late and definitely went off prompt.

A-to-Z Challenge: Hurdles Even Here

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This is a day overdue, but I had a bit more room to breathe today — no classes for either Bear or I, and my husband was home and helped alleviate the most soul-crushing of the chores (though I still have plenty to do Monday; not going to bother doing any tonight or tomorrow.  I’m not a religious person, but old habits are hard to break, and I was raised with Easter being a resting day).  Once Monday rolls around, I’ll have Bear’s classes, an 8:30 am class of my own, followed by training at 10 am (though I’m pretty sure I’m just going to log on while I’m folding laundry, so at least I can multitask), so I’m thinking some of tomorrow’s resting will be the far-more-enjoyable-than-chores task of working a bit on Monday’s A-to-Z.

Anyway, on to yesterdays.  Acrylic, once again, on a 12” x 16” canvas.

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Hurdles Even Here
So it started in your ovaries
A stone, a seedling
Our bones entwined
A warning from the orderlies
A bulge for bleeding
This will take it’s time

So it all ran down the telephone
And saw me clearly
Only nine years old
Calmly cast in styrofoam
In my Tony Lomas
When the shock takes hold
Mom, there are hurdles here
That I cannot seem to clear
Dad, there are demons around
And though I said that I
Said I’d be all right, I lied

I lied
I lied
I lied 

So fix your brood and belly now
Get your fingers wringing
Get your loins unstained
It’ll eat you from the inside out
Until it comes out screaming
Until it all falls away 

Dad, there are hurdles here
That I cannot seem to clear
Mom, there are demons around
And though I said that I
Said I’d be all right, I lied

I lied
I lied
I lied

NaPoWriMo: Day 10

April —
Finally, spring.
Waking to birdsong;

Rain,
Evening thunder.
Diaphanous afternoon sunlight,

How
It turns
Budding leaves gold.

Robins
Take refuge
At my birdfeeder.

Days grow warm.

I stay inside.


Prompt Day Ten:  I used the prompt to write a hay(na)ku, a poem of three lines with a one-word incremental growth in each line.  This is a hay(na)ku sonnet.  Also, if I seem to write a lot of tangentially quarantine-based poetry, I hope you’ll understand.

NaPoWriMo: Day 9

Flowers

There are some flowers they say that bloom only at night.
Yours lips are flowers whose petal open only at night.

Your fingers press softly into the flesh of my throat.
Bruises, like garlands of bellflower, adorn my neck tonight.

You pick flowers for their beauty, not caring that this kills them.
You braid my hair, weave in fragrant jasmine that bloomed just tonight.

In the morning, you weave me a crown of daffodils and say I’m your queen.
A diadem limp and browning, withering fast in the summer heat tonight.

Sometimes I pluck petals from daisies and ask if you love me.
You tell me I’m yours, but that doesn’t seem to answer the question tonight.

Spring and summer make promises that fall and winter can never keep.
I reach for you hand, but you pull away.  I feel a chill in the air, tonight.


Prompt Day Nine:  Off-prompt.  I wrote a ghazal instead.  Also, didn’t post it yesterday, my bad.  Things were a little crazy.

A-to-Z Challenge: Go Places

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Sadly, I could not think of a Decemberists song for my “G” entry, but that doesn’t mean I get to skip.  Just means I have to pick another band.

Today’s entry is “Go Places,” by The New Pornographers.

Micron pen and watercolor.

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Go Places

Yes a heart will always go one step too far
Come the morning and the four corners I see
What the moral of the back story could be
Come with me, go places
And a heart will always stay one day too long
Always hoping for the hot flashes to come
For the glue to dry on our new creation
Come with me, go places
Come head on, full circle
Our arms fill with miracles
Play hearts, kid, they work well
Like classics play aces
Stay with me, go places
Once more for the ages
Yes a heart should always go one step too far
Come the morning and the day winding like dreams
Come the morning every blue shade of green
Come with me, go places
Come head-on, full circle
Our arms fill with miracles
Play hearts, kid, they work well
Like magic, play aces
Stay with me, go places
Once more for the ages
Come one now, come all ye
This story breaks free here
Tales from the back pages
From somewhere, Encida
Deus ex machina
Good morning, Christina
Come head on, full circle
Our path blocked but sure we’ll
Make records, then set them
Make copies, win races
Stay with me, go places
Once more for the ages

 

A-to-Z Challenge: From My Own True Love (Lost at Sea)

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Holy hell, copic markers might be the most forgiving medium I’ve ever worked with.  I am far from technically skilled, but these markers managed to make my sketch look super pretty.

Micron pen (before the finer ones died) and copic marker, obviously.

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From My Own True Love (Lost at Sea)

Four score years
Living down in this rain swept town
Sea salt tears
Swimming round as the rain comes down
Mr Postman, do you have a letter for me?
Mr Postman, do you have a letter for me?
A letter for me
From my own true love
Lost at sea
Lost at sea
Mr Postman, do you have a letter for me?
Mr Postman, do you have a letter for me?
A letter for me
From my own true love
Lost at sea
Lost at sea

A-to-Z Challenge: Engine Driver

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Today was the best day Bear has had in a long time; since the start of quarantine, his mood has been volatile, and he’s become hugely argumentative.  Which is not surprising, nor do I blame him, but dealing with my own internal struggles (quarantine-related and otherwise) coupled with the fact that I am now alone with Bear for the entire day while also trying to work/conduct some classes and tutor him means I, myself, have not always acted or reacted in the most positive way, and the onus for changing this whole dynamic was on me.  I made a very conscientious effort to not lose my temper or raise my voice, and while it was not a perfect day, it did run a lot more smoothly, and we managed to both be very productive.  Bear got all his school work done, a number of enrichment activities, and I got a lot of chores done, as well as my A-to-Z challenge.

Ink and colored pencils.

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The Engine Driver

I’m an engine driver
On a long run, on a long run
Would I work beside her?
She’s a long one, such a long one 

And if you don’t love me, let me go
And if you don’t love me let me go 

I’m a country lineman
On a high line, on a high line
So will be my grandson
There are power lines in our bloodlines 

And if you don’t love me, let me go
And if you don’t love me, let me go 

And I am a writer, writer of fictions
I am the heart that you call home
And I’ve written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones
My bones
My bones 

I’m a money lender
I have fortunes upon fortunes
Take my hand for tender
I am tortured, ever tortured 

And if you don’t love me, let me go
And if you don’t love me, let me go 

And I am a writer, writer of fictions
I am the heart that you call home
And I’ve written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones
I am a writer, I am all that you have home
Home

And I’ve written pages upon pages
Trying to rid you from my bones
My bones
My bones 

And if you don’t love me, let me go
(And if you don’t love me, let me go)
And if you don’t love me, let me go

A-to-Z Challenge: Don’t Carry It All

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Today was the first day of official on-line learning for both my district and my son’s.  He had his first virtual “morning meeting,” and followed a schedule posted on ClassDojo, and I spent time communicating with leads to get added to Google Classroom and had my first synchronous Google Meet session with my Algebra 1 class.  After that, I had to handle delivery and exchange of groceries (my father dropped off milk and some treats for Bear, and I returned his hair clippers), lunches, chores, and working Bear through his Scholastic lessons as well as his class lessons.  All in all, I was busy.

This is all to say, I didn’t finish today’s entry.  I’m still going to post this progress shot, and I’ll post a completed shot on Saturday, when I won’t have other A-to-Z art to complete.  Some of the people are still literally nothing but floating heads, no texture has been added to the trees, and shadows and highlights are perfunctory at best.

Still, while it’s neither done nor perfect (hopefully it will be closer to “perfect” when it is done), I’m proud of myself for playing with style.  This is acrylic on a 16” x 20” canvas.

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Here we come to a turning of the season
Witness to the arc towards the sun
The neighbors blessed burden within reason
Becomes a burden borne of all in one
And nobody, nobody knows

Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
Don’t carry it all don’t carry it all
We are all our hands in holders
But meet this bold and brilliant sun
But this I swear to all
A monument to build beneath the arbors
Upon a cliff that towers towards the trees
But every vessel pitching hard to starboard
Lay it’s head on summer’s freckled knees
And nobody, nobody knows

Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
Don’t carry it all don’t carry it all
We are all our hands in holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
This I swear to all, this I swear to all
And there a wreath of trillium and ivy
Laid upon the body of the boy
Lazy will the long come from it’s hiding
Return his quiet certitude to the soil

So raise a glass to turnings of the season
And watch it as it arcs towards the sun
And you must bear your neighbors burden within reason
And your labors will be borne when all is done,
and nobody nobody knows

Let the yoke fall from our shoulders
Don’t carry it all don’t carry it all
We are all our hands in holders
Beneath this bold and brilliant sun
And this I swear to all
And this I swear to all
And this I swear to all
To all
To all
To all

 

A-to-Z Challenge: California One

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I didn’t get to post yesterday, but yesterday I decided to play with colored pencils before realizing that 1.) all I had were my son’s colored pencils from Dollar Tree, and 2.) colored pencils take way more skill than I have to be done well.  Ah, well.

I do have to admit, losing the microns and “having” to play with other mediums is actually pretty fun.  Also, I tend to overthink potential subject matter for my projects, and often stagnate because I can’t think of anything “worthy” as a subject, and this is really forcing me to get out of my own head and just make something.

Tried to make this look a bit like what I associate with vintage American illustration.

Also: perspective?  What’s perspective, ha ha?

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Take a long drive with me
On california one, california one
And the road a-winding goes
From golden gate to roaring cliff-side
And the light is softly low as our hearts become sweetly untied
Neath the sun of california one
Take a long draw with me
Of california wine
Of california wine
Take a long draw with me
Of california wine
Of california wine
And the wine, it tastes so sweet
As we lay our eyes to wander
And the sky, it stretches deep
Will we rest our heads to slumber
Neath the vines
Of california wine;
Neath the sun
Of california one?
Annabelle lies, sleeps with quiet eyes
On this sea-drift sun
What can you do?
And if I said, O it’s in your head
On this sea-drift sun
What can you do?
We’re calling all bed wetters and ambulance chasers
Poor picker-pockets, bring ’em in
Come join the youth and beauty brigade
We’re lining up the light-loafere’d
And the bored bench warmers
Castaways and cutouts, fill it up
Come join the youth and beauty brigade
Nothing will stand in our way
I figured I had paid my debt to society
By paying my overdue fines at the mulnoma county library, at the library
They said ‘son, go join up
Go join the youth and beauty brigade’
Nothing will stand in our way