How do I write a poem about blood and muscle
when silence speaks in echoes
and my dreams go poof on waking?
How do I write a poem without
standing on a precipice
turning out all my pockets
and giving it all away?
And if the poem is a kite flying just out of reach
a horse let loose in the forest
a freedom song cackled in the sky
how do I even begin
to grasp a wisp of tendril
and rein it in?
© N Nazir 2022
*I am poemed out already. I did actually write two responses to today’s prompt and was embarrassed by one and spooked by the other. So decided not to share them. Maybe another time when I feel bolder. I’ll be glad when NaPoWriMo is over (but I also still have to fulfil the challenge, damn it). I’m finding it a bit intense. Is it just me?
Here’s the prompt in case you wanted to try it:
NaPoWriMo Prompt: Today’s (optional) prompt is based on the aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live. Perhaps she will be the Madonna of the Traffic Lights, or the Mysterious Spirit of Bus Stops. Or maybe you will be addressed by the Lost Lady of the Stony Coves. Whatever form your dream-visitor takes, happy writing!
For more information or to take part, please visit www.napowrimo.net
And here’s a beautiful song I found: