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.
Finally, here’s our prompt – optional, as always! This one comes to us from Moist Poetry Journal, which posted this prompt by K-Ming Chang a while back:
What are you haunted by, or what haunts you? Write a poem responding to this question. Then change the word haunt to hunt
Haunted, Hunted By
19 April 24
I saw the look on her face
The horror of almost losing her life
I heard the way she tried to speak but no words formed
When the words did come forth
She sounded like the 4-year-olds she would never know
I felt the leathery skin
Tissue paper thin, veins easily seen but not easily pierced
I smelled the stains on her fingers
And the ashtray breath when she kissed my cheek
Her heart had given out
She was initially unable to speak
The one who was so protective of me
Was now the one that I protected
Her dead body with makeup on that she would never wear
I said goodbye to that corpse knowing there was nothing there
Walking back from the park
At the start of the pandemic
My left side turned off
From shoulder to toe there was nothing there
Walking between my two children
Each one holding me up
On the left was my child who reminded me of the mother I lost
On my right was the child that reminded me of my fury and anxiety
They got me home without incident
And I laid on the couch
Unable to tell my wife what I was feeling
Worse yet, unable to tell her what I wasn’t feeling
I didn’t end up in a pine box that day
My speech has slowed a bit, halts from time to time
I can hear it, but no one else notices
I can feel the oblivion coming but no one else listens
I quiet myself in preparation
The end will be lonely
Even if I am surrounded by my loved ones
I will be unable to say it is time
I make plans to leave a sign for when it’s time to die
Wanting to...
