The Goods

It’s day 11 (actually it’s day 12, but I’m a slacker and have fallen behind) of the 30 Day Poetry Challenge, and guess what? When they said it would be a “challenge,” turns out they meant that it would be challenging.

Who knew!

Originally I intended not to spend any more than 5 to 10 minutes on these posts, but as they have progressively grown more challenging, I have been inclined to rise to the challenge. Which looks like me putting my forehead in my hand and grinding my teeth whilst I attempt to be clever and creative and Grand Canyon deep. I’m not sure if I have succeeded, but I am loving these prompts and I wanted to share today’s with you.

 

Happy Saturday/Sunday, friends!

 

Day 11 – Write a list poem.

vintage_housewife_cook

Tips and suggestions for the handling and dispensing of virtues and other savories

~

Store kindness and mercy in reliable tupperware (nothing worse than stale charity)

Prepare and deliver intentions on the same day (possibly doesn’t age well)

Place humor at eye level and within arm’s reach (perspectives will clarify or conceal)

Poke theories and assumptions with a sharp truth (might still be gooey in the center)

Launder patience and keep folded in the linen closet (this will behoove you when unexpected guests arrive)

Begin each day with a bowl gratitude (otherwise you will forget to eat it)

Measure responsibilities for each day only (tomorrow is finicky and fickle)

If not on your person, peace should be kept somewhere safe and secret (I assure you this is for everyone’s benefit)

Rinse, rinse, rinse (rinsing is key to avoiding moods and attitudes gone bad)

Only serve opinions when the harvest is ripe (when in doubt, give it one more day)

Wisdom will keep for ages (but if you don’t share it then people will be none the wiser)

Wait twenty minutes before serving hurt feelings (additionally, running emotions beneath cool water reduces the risk of future cuts)

Look at all insights beneath a magnifying glass (this helps determine if they’re genuine or fake)

Be certain to monitor good deeds (they can spoil)

Generosity is like a tree: give it lots of water and plenty of sunshine and it will produce the sweetest fruit

Grace (give it prodigiously, and don’t be embarrassed to take some for yourself)

April Fool’s Erasure Poetry

You will never believe it!!! Last night I was visited by a benevolent ogre who turned out to be a distant uncle on my father’s side (twice removed) and he bequeathed me a BILLION dollars, so Michael, Bella and I are moving to our own island in Figi! WOOOOO!

Eh? Didn’t fool you? Oh, you’re too smart. ;-)

 

erasure

April 1st marks the beginning of National Poetry Month, and in the spirit of April Fool’s Day, Silver Birch Press opened their arms for submissions. But not just any submissions. Have you ever heard of Erasure Poetry? I had not until I came across their blog. It’s an interesting concept in which certain words are blacked out or otherwise obscured in order to create a new piece of poetry. Whatever is not blacked out is the poem. I’m in between novels at the moment and thought this the perfect project (distraction) for the day.

These were the requirements:

- interpret “April Fool’s Day” as you will: humor, trickery, thoughts on the day. Then, using a book of your choice, locate page 41 to create an erasure poem.

As a prompt, here are definitions of “fool”:

Noun: A person who acts unwisely; a silly person.

Verb: Trick or deceive.

Adjective: Foolish or silly.

So. Let me just tell you . . . it was WAY harder than it sounded. I admit to initially sort of smirking at the task, thinking Oh yeah, I can do this. Gonna write me the best erasure poem there ever was. (Six hours laterI spent the entire day absorbed in this task; and that was simply creating the poem within the poem. Editing it took another 3 days, a LOT of photocopies, a few choice words, and a tremendously steady hand. I’m convinced I missed my calling as a brain surgeon. Can’t teach that. No, not really. Because I’m pretty sure they expect you to pass Algebra before they let touch brains, and personally I would rather metaphorically mess with people’s heads. Gently, of course. But it IS good thing I wasn’t weaning off coffee that week. Blacking out the words was time consuming and extremely tedious, but after all was said and done, I had some poems I liked. AND — I received word this morning that my poem made it in to the line up! They chose the one I liked least, but that’s okay. I’m honored they selected it. Thank you, Silver Birch Press!

If you’d like to read my poem, as well as some other incredibly lovely and creative pieces, then I’ve left you the link there at the bottom.

Misdirection

 

Happy April Fool’s Day, everyone! Stay silly!

 

~ Cara

 

 

 

It’s so hard that a pickle jar lid ain’t got nothin’ on writing.

This morning almost sent me back to bed. It was hard enough that I said some really naughty words in my head and a few tears dribbled out of my eyes. But I decided giving up would hurt more than to keep trying. So I sat at my computer and pressed letters until something like a chapter happened. When I finished, I copied what I had written and pasted it into a blank document. Then I held my breath.

My goal for each day is 1,000 words. Today I wrote 1,188.

I raised both arms into the air, made two fists, and shouted “DONE, Beee-otch!”

Thank you for listening. God is Good. Cara out.

WeWin

Kid President

It’s a slow day. I’m not so much writing as I am looking at the clock above my document and wondering if it might be in everyone’s best interest if I close down for the day. Perhaps it’s the weather. Perhaps it’s the hairy black spider I found on my husband’s side of the bed this morning; the little beast scared me half to death before I’d even a chance to sit down for a proper pee. Probably, though, it’s just the weather. I am sensitive like this. I look out my window and see a nimbus laden sky talking some big talk but has yet to deliver. I hope for rain. We had a bit last night, and when I woke up everything was wet and rinsed and even the lawn sparkled in its own way, an aristocratic ambivalence.

The weekend should be lovely. My husband runs his third marathon this year on Sunday. I am astoundingly proud of him. Me, I will avoid running at all cost; even running behind, if I can. It takes a certain sort of masochistic lunacy, albeit a determined lunacy, to tell yourself “Okay, body, we’re going to do this now. Yep, 26.2 miles. Okay, here goes” and then choose not to veer off the path when no one’s looking. I would cheat. I would hail a cab or find the short cut or . . . you know, I probably just wouldn’t sign up in the first place. I love exercising. I go to the gym almost every day, and I find my serenity is waiting for me the moment I slip those earbuds in and wrap my fingers around the cold metal barbell. I go away. I go in. And I go out. But wherever I go, I am always better for having went. I am a happier woman, a better wife, and a funnier friend when I’ve had my daily allotment of endorphins. But there’s this thing. Maybe it’s just me, or maybe other people feel this way. Sometimes I will remember that I am a modest woman and no, you probably won’t ever see me wearing a shirt that bears my midriff or a skirt any higher than the middle of my thighs. So why, I ask myself, why do I push myself to such extremes. And I do – push myself to extremes. I work out like Mozart plays piano. Dun dun dun dun. Dun-dun-dun-DUNNNNN. What I’m saying is, I put much effort into keeping my shape firm and lean, and really the only person seeing it is me. There’s my husband of course, and yes he appreciates it all, but he is not a vain main, you see, and I am not lying when I say that truly he would still think me beautiful even if I had mashed-potato butt. No, really, he would. Scout’s honor. (Not an actual scout, however I abide by the code. Live long and prosper.) So, no, my career isn’t contingent on the number on my tailbone. It’s a 9, just in case you were curious. (I carry my weight below my bum, like little airplane pillows for it to rest on.) ANYWAY, exercise is good, but I could probably scale back some and it would be all right.

Oh dear  . . .

How did we get here? Truly I don’t know. I only meant to say hello, then suddenly my fingers were running amuck. I do actually have something very cool to share with you. Have you met Kid President? Oh, he’s very possibly the most precious boy I’ve never met. And smart. And a great dancer. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.

Enjoy the video, then pass it on to everyone you know. It will make them smile knowing there are people like this in our world.

Happy Weekend, Friends!