NaPoWriMo

ryan a johnson · 05-01-2009, 12:51 AM

Well, this was pretty stressful at times. But I am glad I did it. Here's number 30:

The coffee was as warm as the beer and
then the building turned into a second
hand store. I should write about
real shaving, about how
summer is over,
about how
I am sure of it.

**SupaNova** · 05-01-2009, 01:29 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by RAJ

Well, this was pretty stressful at times. But I am glad I did it.

I'm glad you did it too. You sir are an excellent writer.

**Role Modlin** · 05-01-2009, 03:48 PM

Okay...here go the last of mine. Sorry it took so long to get them up here.

4-26-09

Rain

pitter
patter

cool

drops

soak
me
to
the
bone

4-27-09

Title Goes Here

Struggling
to fill the void.
It's 3 am
again
rhyme scheme be damned.
Count the syllables.
One. More. Time.
Tick
tick
tick
of the clock
drives me crazy.
This is the longest April
I have ever known.

**Role Modlin** · 05-01-2009, 03:49 PM

4-28-09

Writing The Perfect Love Song

I want to save the world with these words or (at the very least) win your hand. I spill my heart out over a I - IV - V - V chord progression and weep to myself. The playback is muddy and there's too much reverb on my voice. I shake my head and sigh...pop radio is already oozing crap and I fear that I am only clogging the plumbing.

4-29-09

Fighting With Myself

My emotions overtake me like a horde of ravenous zombies. I have boarded up all entries but they find a way. Dirty fingers claw their way into mind and I can't take it anymore. The lamp shatters as it connects with the wall, still wet with blood...my blood. It looks like a deranged child's magic marker masterpiece. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and glance over at the shattered mirror dangling behind the couch. The devil stares back and do my best to push him away. Somewhere deep inside...you speak. Your voice leads me out of the darkness and I collapse in the floor...a shell of who I used to be.

**Role Modlin** · 05-01-2009, 03:50 PM

4-30-09

Free Falling

She gazed out over the Hudson River,
the end of her life
played out in front of CNN's cameras;
her split decision broadcast
simultaneously in forty-seven languages.
A world watched curiously
as she stood on the brink,
the odds makers had her going at 10:1.
She closed her eyes,
oblivious to the attention
she'd been craving all her life.
A lone hand reached out to her
as she lept into the blue.
EMTs and policemen wrapped her in blankets
as they told her how lucky she was.
She was saved from the plunge that day
but she's been falling ever since.

**Role Modlin** · 05-01-2009, 03:53 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by ryan a johnson

Come on over. But I am sleeping. Welcome the homeless. Talk about mixtapes and summer on couches. Remember well before January. There’s something about orbitals and theories and the ice cream was still plenty firm. Blue flame. Nothing but sleep is here.

I like this one a lot. I've enjoyed all of your stuff...but I really dig this one.

**Role Modlin** · 05-01-2009, 03:58 PM

Well...I did it. I feel like I wrote a bunch of crap mostly...but there may be a couple of decent poems mixed in. I guess that makes it worth it. I actually averaged two poems a day over the last thirty days so I am happy. I may attempt to write at least one new poem every day...from now on.

Congrats to everyone who attempted this. It was frustrating at times but was still a lot of fun. I've enjoyed reading the stuff you all have posted.

**Skeeter** · 05-01-2009, 04:07 PM

Well done, everyone. I crashed and burned this year, barely making it a week.

**Role Modlin** · 05-01-2009, 04:12 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Skeeter

Well done, everyone. I crashed and burned this year, barely making it a week.

Well...some of us (like me) don't have jobs or school keeping us busy.

ryan a johnson · 05-06-2009, 10:34 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by SupaNova

I'm glad you did it too. You sir are an excellent writer.

Why thank you!

Pre-Ex-Girlfriend · 05-07-2009, 02:04 AM

I wrote these in April, so I figure I should just post them here for kicks.

As the plane lands, we all shrink to fit into the fiberglass model of the island. I spent a week on rocky beaches watching bathtub whales surface and spout. I rode a flea circus bicycle past toothpick palms and drank minuscule mai tais. Only the rainbow wouldn't fit - bursting out of cotton ball clouds - I could not find the other side.

Disconnect
Daniel and I talk on the phone about Nazi propaganda.
My mom shouts out, "YAHTZEE!"

It's time to change the subject.

This is Important

A man lights up under the red stripe on the wall - "No smoking within 25 feet of entry."
I glare at him, lips pursed, and look away before his girlfriend sees me.
Later that night, I yell at my husband for putting the cheese grater away in the wrong drawer.

I definitely didn't accomplish a poem a day, but it was still fun. Plus, I think I still doubled the number of poems I've written in my entire lifetime so far. So, that's neat.

**Role Modlin** · 04-03-2010, 09:06 AM

Wow...April snuck up on us. Post all your April poems in here.

**Role Modlin** · 04-03-2010, 10:39 AM

4-1-10

The houselights dim to thunderous applause. We take position as the last strains of generic techno echo through the hall. On cue, we attack the stage like birds of prey, a power pop blitzkrieg in G Major. The audience stumbles as wave after wave of raw emotion slams them to the floor. They rise, slackjawed and spent, arms outstretched, begging for just one more.

**Role Modlin** · 04-03-2010, 12:16 PM

4-2-10

freeze-frame this busy day
pause to consider
blood that was spilled for me
caught up in the rat race
priorities scattered to and fro
mired down by this flesh
though my spirit cries for more
forever freed from this mess
six hours one Friday

4-3-10

snatched away from dreamland
by this infernal alarm
beep-beep-beeping
Saturday morning buzz-kill
unwelcome invasion
of a perfect four day weekend

**Role Modlin** · 04-08-2010, 09:48 AM

4-4-10

unlock the door and let in the heat
stand aside as they bum rush the door
blue-haired meanies in dimestore dresses
scavenging shelves of secondhand kick-knacks
picking apart the faded boxes
donated from a dead aunt's attic

4-5-10

knocked back
a verbal napalm strike
fourteen different voices
all yelling at once
I turn a deaf ear
counting the pennies in my drawer
oblivious to the chaos
I close my eyes
counting the minutes 'til closing time
and a nice cold beer