Welcome, art enthusiasts and wordsmiths alike, to another episode of Create Art Podcast! We are diving headfirst into the enchanting world of poetry as we celebrate National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). This annual event, which takes place every April, encourages poets and aspiring writers around the globe to embrace their creativity and commit to writing a poem each day for the entire month.
The Beauty of National Poetry Writing Month:
NaPoWriMo, similar to its prose-centric counterpart National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), celebrates the written word and the boundless creativity that can flow when one dedicates oneself to a daily practice. Poets of all levels of expertise are invited to take part, from seasoned wordsmiths to those just dipping their toes into the vast ocean of verse.
Create Art Podcast has always been a haven for artists to share their creative processes, and NaPoWriMo offers a unique opportunity for poets to reflect on their craft. With a daily commitment to producing poetry, participants discover new facets of their writing style, experiment with various forms, and explore uncharted emotional territories.
Today, we’d like to challenge you to write – without consulting the book – a poem that recounts the plot, or some portion of the plot, of a novel that you remember having liked but that you haven’t read in a long time.
Waking to a new life
1 April 24
Based on Metamorphosis from Franz Kafka
It was a day in June, 2014
I woke up bleary eyed on a couch
Much like other nights, but I heard some noises around me
Noises that weren’t the Redline El
Noises that weren’t police sirens
Noises that weren’t cars honking
An unknown body laid next to me
I heard their breathing
The snores seemed familiar from long ago
Like I had laid with this person before
But I didn’t know who it was
And I sprung up
Something inside me said there should be more sounds
The daylight had broken
The heat of the day started
And I was somewhere I didn’t remember
The air smelled different
There seemed to be more space
As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light peeking through
I looked over the coffee table
And saw two babies
Gurgling, happy, warm and fed
Gently waking up, small yawns, gripping at invisible animals
The person beside me was a lover from the past
This wasn’t my studio on the north side of Chicago
But I didn’t know where I was
And a small cry broke the silence
And a cat strolled past casually, calmly
My instincts took over
And I walked to the baby crying
Hushed them, cuddled them
And my past lover quietly watched the baby and I
Her eyes piercing through the fog
And welcoming me back into the world
That we had created
The baby was tiny, fit on my forearm, needed a new diaper
And I took them over to the table
A table filled with diapers and wipes
And like an
