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), is a celebration of the written word and the boundless creativity that can flow when one dedicates themselves 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.
And now for our (optional) prompt! Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem in which the speaker expresses the desire to be someone or something else, and explains why. Two possible models for you: Natasha Rao’s “In my next life let me be a tomato,” and Randall Jarrell’s “The Woman at the Washington Zoo.”
The Name Tattooed on My Arm
18 April 24
Looking down at my right arm
Seeing the skull and the fu-man-chu
With a fedora and sunglasses
And the name scrawled there
Is the person I wanted to be
I gave him a name
And a tortured history
And a dismal future
Just on the right side of destitution
He was my voice for decades
When I didn’t know what to be
He sat there under my skin
As a reminder
As a warning
That I may become him one day
Parts of me desired that ending
It was so poetic
So romantic
He'd be someone I’d give up my sweet ass to in a heartbeat if he’d have me
He was dark and dangerous
Mysterious and stoic
Nothing could touch him
Feelings could not sway him
He was comfortable in his own skin
He is the things I am not
I created this phantom
To fight the nightmares
To fight my weaknesses
Naturally he doesn’t have any
He was my hero
Like Bukowski or Kerouac
Until I became a father
And thought that if he tried to date my daughters
He’d be carried out in a pine box
I so wanted to be him
But he is not real
He is not sustainable
He would not be able to do what I do
Live the life I live
Be a father
Be a partner
Be supportive
He is selfish
He is all the bad qualities that I don’t need
And yet
At times I want to be...
