NPM the Last: The Concession

Eighteen Days ago I slighted my verse "skill"
And 'Loosive would not let it drop.
Impishly I 'gested that I write poems't kill
Expecting it to utterly go "flop."

Seeing as he prodded me into this "mess"
I thought it's only fair to say to Marc:
Now, I'm not one to most easily confess
To my own faults, but this has been a lark.

Thank you, 'Loo, for spurring me along to try
My hand at verse, to work upon my form,
Most importantly, for showing me that I
Don't stink at poetry, safe from my scorn.

I'm not aiming for those form points here
Just felt I had to write this way right now,
Had to say that 'Loo was right on this point here
And I was wrong (here's where you take a bow).

At this point, Marc, you are free to say that you
Had told me so, because you did do so.
I would not improve lest there was a poem'r two
I see now practice helped this poet's woe.

Here we have an odd sort poem from odd chiqueet
One you'll pro'lly never really get to meet.
One more couplet before this poem is through
And one more time I must say thanks to 'Loo.

NPM 20: The Poetaster

The red-headed poetaster
Thought she wasn't worth a piastre
And before, if you as't'er
She'd say, "use it all as plaster."

She made herself reherse and reherse
To try and perfect her verse
To her surprise, it wasn't cursed,
Not destined for the herse.

So the red-headed poetaster
Is thinking much faster
Hold off on the making-plaster
Her poems just might be satisfat-er.
---
This poem was made possible by The Oxford Essential Thesaurus, The Oxford Essential Dictionary, Merriam-Webster's Rhyming Dictionary, www.merriam-webster.com, and The Highly Selective Dictionary for the Extraordinarily Literate.

I know, the rhythm's probably off, and some of the rhymes are really weird, but I'm one of those "I wish the world would just go away for a while" moods (in other words, I could care less at the moment). I would've done a pocket poem, as it's Poem in Your Pocket Day, but I just wasn't feeling in a pocket-ish mood, and I found the word "poetaster" so much more relevant at the moment.

NPM 19: I Cannot Write a Poem Today

I cannot write a poem today
I've far too much to do
Should be illegal t'have this much
I think that I should sue.

I cannot write a poem today,
I'm much too busy, you see.
I'd write all day f'I had the choice,
But it cannot be.

I cannot write a poem today,
I say it with chagrin.
But wait a sec, this is a poem!
Oh man, I lied! I sin!

I guess I wrote a poem today,
Despite my busy life.
A bit of wit is always respite
From my daily strife.
---
Don't forget: tomorrow's Poem in Your Pocket Day! Carry one/some of your favorite poem(s) in your pocket!

NPM 18: Sonnet II (With Practice)

They say that practice breeds perfection's kin
In music, words, painting, all sorts of art.
An unwrit order seems to state the sin
Of frowning 'pon one's 'parent lack of smarts.

I have been told my poetry is more
Than just a bunch of worthless sapiness.
Now, I've only done just about a score,
And some's been good, but of that worthiness?

It's odd what forcing of oneself can do
To visibly improve a bunch of junk.
But once you rise, you can fall again, too.
And frankly I don't want to once more flunk.

So practice does make perfect most the time;
I want to 'spute it, just not in this rhyme.
-----
I wanted to argue with Marc's comment on the previous poem purely for the sake of being impish... but... but.... I can't really argue in iabmic pentameter! -despairs-

NPM 17: The Man Who Sat on the Bench Everyday

An man used to sit on a bench everyday
Not much to look at, had not much to say
'cept smile and send out a cheerful "good day,"
The man who sat on the bench everyday.

I remember I'd pass him 'bout every day,
That man who sat on the bench everyday,
And when it was nice, he'd call out to say,
"sure is a wonderful, beautiful day."
And I'd smile and nod, and go on my way,
Venturing through a difficult day.
But my spirits stayed up, and I have to say,
It's pro'lly because he Went out of his way
To try an make somebody's day
A little more bearable in some litle way.

I'd stop to say hi out on my own way
To the man who sat on the bench everyday.
But I noticed that nobody else ever stayed.
They must've been too busy with life to pay
Any mind to the man on the bench everyday.

I learned a great deal when I'd stop on my way
To talk to the man on the bench everyday.
I learned to appreciate all He has made
To love it and care for it in some way.

Then sadly he told me that he could not stay,
The man who sat on the bench everyday.
Gently he smiled and bid me good day,
And onto the bus he went on his way.

I often look out for him during the day,
The man who sat on the bench everyday,
But I realized that now he really did stay.
He's out and around, everywhere, everyday
Out on a park bench, just waiting to say
A friendly and kindly and hearty good day
To you as you go around on your way

So make sure that you try to repay
The kindness he tried to give out each day
And give to your fellows good day,
Like the man who sat on the bench everyday.



----
Note: I typed this up quick on an iTouch, and I didn't have time to fix grammar/spelling issues... and I still don't at the moment... typo-fixage will come at a later point.

NPM 16: A Change of Pace

Note: I went to the Bonefish Grill with some family for dinner, and for whatever reason they cover their tables with paper. Kind of the way things were arranged I was inspired to write a poem semi-on the table. And it looked so neat I had to take a picture of it (aforementioned picture's forthcoming).
---
I needed a change
of pace
And we were out
and about
There was paper
on the table
And a pen
in my pocket
POETRY ENSUED
g2

NPM 15: How?

How does poetry work?
How does it move us
With black dots
Forming letters,
Letters giving way
To words,
Words yielding
To lines?
Lines forming an idea.

How is it that short lines,

Some with rhyme,

Others with rhythm,

And others still without either,

Touch our hearts?

Make us think?

Make us feel things

We've never felt before,

Nor ever will feel the same way?

There's other forms of literature

Out there.

But here's what I find curious:

How does poetry

In 175 words

Do what prose does

In 175 lines

Or paragraphs

Or pages?

NPM 14: i can't think

i can't think
it's too late
for my brain
to work.

can't function
dark is here
i simply can
not think.

the hour's come
i must rest
my weary mind.
relief.

---
yes, I did decide to go "e.e.cummings" on all y'all. Except I used punctuation. Bleh, gotta stop leaving these poems so late.

NPM 13: Procrastination

Procrastination
Hate it with a pay-shun.
But today, no resist-ation
From the pull of procrastionation.

From the dawn of creation
Been no greater frustration
To go in the migration
With the strong procrastination.

Rather than elation
I feel no more than ick-sation.
I should be on probation
For today's procrastination.

Didn't have usual foc-ation.
There was no consolation.
I should be laiden with damnation
For today's procrastination.

I do no good with guilt-ation.
Along with its evaluation
My soul's begun disintigration
With today's procrastination.

So please forgive my lamentation
I just feel this deep sensation
I've yet be struck w/ greater mortification
Than the awful realization

Of procrastination.
---
I much too hard on myself, I know. Everyone makes mistakes, I know.
That doesn't stop me from hating it, though.

NPM 12: Do I Dare?

Do I dare

Disturb the universe,

Question its mysterious ways,

Send a single ripple

To jostle its perfect alignments

If just for a moment?

Do I dare

Make a scene,

Raise my voice,

Make myself heard abover the crowd,

If only for a second?

Do I dare

Create something new,

Something the world has never seen

From the likes of a speck like me,

Insignificant as I am,

Even if I only present to darkness?

Do I dare

Disturb the universe,

Question its mysterious ways,

Send a single ripple

To jostle its perfect alignments

If just for a moment?

----

Alright, some of the formatting came out a little funky, what with the picture and all... but given the poem, I rather like it. ^^

NPM 11: Window Bench

I sit and watch the world go by
From my window seat
A quiet corner of my room
It's really quite the treat.

The house's shadow's out in front
Bright early in the morn.
I sit and read, rest on the sill
Without the sun for scorn.

Sun comes 'round my side of house
Before he heads on down.
And through the trees, it's quite lovely
To see the sunset 'roun'.

My window bench's a right nice spot
To read, to sit, to chill.
With window open, the nice cool air
Sweeps o'er me and sill.

I sit and watch the world go by
From my window bench
It lets me perch above the world
And 'lows my mind't unclench.

NPM 10: Too Tired

I'm much too tired;
I shouldn't write poems this late.
Bit late for that now.

NPM 9: Back to the Grind

There once was a day we called "Mon"

Back to work, 'way from the sun.

I'd rather stay home,

But don't want to be 'lone.

Might's'well return to dane-mun.

----

Yay for word inversions and a residential imp!

NPM 8: I Almost Forgot!

I almost forgot!

I need a poem for today!

This'll work, I guess.

They Just Get It

It shouldn't come as too much surprise that I absolutely love my music and the music of others, classical especially. Unfortunately, I can't seem to find too many people my age with whom I can share this, because, frankly, the genre's intimidating. When young people, or any age people for that matter, think "classical music," they usually think tuxes, long gowns, everyone very serious and formal, but there's almost an air of exclusion. That only a set of a few chosen are able to listen to this music, and that there are certain standards to be upheld in the genre.


I have to say yes, there are certain standards that need to be upheld in the music. But classical music isn't just for snooty folks with cash to throw around; it's too beautiful to be exclusive! Likewise, there are certain standards and expectations which the musician has to meet. Yes, you have to practice a great deal, and yes, you have to be disciplined, and yes, you have to have a great love for what you do to be able to do it well. But I don't think enough growing musicians such as myself know, or understand, that you have to live life, too. Sure, you can spend twelve hours at the piano bench every day, doing technique until your fingers fall off, and come concert day you can play the piece perfectly, but if there's no emotion to show, no experience from which to draw, technique is next to worthless.


Consider these guys for a moment...























They're the 5 Browns. Five siblings, all play the piano, all went to Juliard, first time the school's had a whole family at one time. You've probably heard of them.
But have you ever heard them play? The top one's Flight of the Bumblebee; it's short in case you either want a snippet, or don't have the time/attention span to watch/listen to anything longer. The second one's Rhapsody in Blue, one of my favorites. The last one's an excerpt from The Firebird; it's a bit different than the others, but it's still awesome.








Yes, these guys are for real.
But not only are they real musicians, they're real people. They understand that this isn't, and shouldn't, be an exclusive art form; they get that you need to live to gain experience which you can give in a performance. In my mind, they just get it. Take a look at this, you'll get a sense of what I mean.

NPM 7: Sonnet I

Ms Archi Teuthis Dux, the Chief Squid reigns
Around the writing site Protagonize
Composing pieces borderline insane
But ultimately beauty maximized

Creates detachedly straightforward prose
Or pieces that are downright strange at first
But if one takes the time to think, I s'pose,
It gives us something we unwit'ning thirst.

See, "We all go a little mad sometimes"
But I don't think we have enough'v't'n life.
The Chief Squid makes it part of normal times
Bizarre and strange occurr'nces are but trif(les)

For emph'sis on where odd'ty daily lies
I envy'r, praises to her I give rise
-----
My first sonnet-ific efforts (Shakespearean, specifically), dedicated to Archi_Teuthis, the Chief Squid of Protagonize.
A note on some of the crazy spellings: If fudging was good enough for Shakespeare, it's good enough for me. I have no compunction.

NPM 6: I Think That I Would Fall in Love

I think that I would fall in love
If someone played for me
A song that he had writ himself
Math-e-mat-ic-ly

I think that I would fall in love
If he told me I
Should stop loving him the moment that
An end is reached for pi.

I also think I'd fall in love
If he spoke to me
Not with just the spoken word
But with those notes and keys.

But I think, most 'portantly,
I'd fall in love if he
Took me as the way I am
And loved me just for me.

He would not need smarts or skill
To capture my esteem.
Though it's nice, these things to have,
One can only dream.

I'd only ask of him to have
An open breezy mind
To give a chance, the things I like,
That satisfy my mind.

I would also try to do
That I ask of him.
It's only fair to do my part,
Not skirt around the rim.

If he's not one for 'Roque music
I hope he'd give it a try.
Likewise, if he liked a certain food
From it I'd pr'olly not shy.

I think that I would fall in love
If Fate blew love my way.
I'd only hope that once it came
With that love I'd stay.

NPM 5: Untitled

You intrigue me
Yet I feel I hardly know you.

I know you through exchange of words
Of thoughts
Of ideas.
But that's it.

I wish I knew your face,
I wish I knew your voice,
But for now all I have to go on
Are your words.

I'm perfectly content with that,
But my curiousity is not.
It is, however,
Willing to be patient.

My curiosity can be content with words,
For now.
But it will persist.
It'll have to win out.
--------
In a roundabout way this was inspired by "Falling Slowly" from Once (this particular rendition happens to be one of my favorites).

NPM 4: Untitled

(Inspired by one of Eloosive's Daily Writing Practices, which, in turn, was inspired by a piece by Protag's Archi Teuthis. Gotta love the creative-borrowing cycle)
Photo inspiration (as I can't find an embedding link): http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/green-window-pod.html
You also have to love the awesomeness that is National Geographic.

Aqua

Crackling paint cast in

Gentle morning sunlight

Slated window veiled in shadow

Pond'ring

NPM 3: The Earlybird Queen

I have been deemed
The Earlybird Queen,
On the grounds, it seems,
That the hour I wake's obscene.

I wake up at five,
Ere the sun arrives,
Before the sane are 'live,
But that's the way I jive.






OrangeOreos deemed me
The Earlybird Queen.
I don't want t'cause a scene,
But I see what he means.

How many pea-pells
Wake, bright as bells,
At 5? It sure is hell
For most who do't, ill or well.

But the way I've seen,
I, the Earlybird Queen,
Have fallen into routine
That makes me e'en

Happier than most
Because, (I'll try not t'boast)
I usually get almost
All my piano practice up-coast (?).

The day's then free
For use by me
The one who's been dee(med)
The Earlybird Quee(n)
---
I came up with that? On the fly? Without any editing?
Sure, the meter might be a bit off, and some rhymes stretches... but dang, I surprise myself.
...
Really?
Are we sure that I wrote that?

NPM 2: Lost for Words (a haiku)

Being lost for words
Is 'specially difficult
When writing verses.
----
I figured I might as well rack up some poems from the get-go, in case I can't get to a computer for a day or two.

NPM 1 (or, You Asked For It)

I'm not a poet by nature
Short as it is, it be a bizarre creature
When I try to write't
I'm afraid it'll bite
For sappiness's my poetry's main feature.

Now, I like to read poetry
But I cannot write it.
Not very well, anyway.
It always turns out being much sappier
Than suits my tastes.
It's mediocre, you know?

I mentioned this in a comment
On a recent Daily Writing Practice.
The response prodded my inner imp
To take it as a challenge.

April be National Poetry Month
So here's what I'll do:
If I can manage it, I'll do a poem
Every day in April,
Armed with a thesaurus and
A rhyming dictionary.
I'll try to change up styles,
So I don't bore you all to death.

But I feel I must warn you:
If you have averse reactions
To severe sappiness
Or intense inferiority,
I would avoid this blog
Until the end of April.

And if you find you develop
Aforementioned reactions,
Direct all blame to Eloosive,
Because, really 'Loo, you
Kind of
Sort of
Asked for it.

Some Things About Me

I was inspired to do this from a recent blog post by the (absolutely astounding) writer known around Protag. as Eloosive.

1. I love waking up early. Today, on the first day of my spring break, I got up at 5am to practice for 3 1/2hrs. That felt really, really good.
   
2. Likewise, my brain usually begins to shut down around 9pm, and by 9:30 I can no longer type coherently (I proved this point once by accidentally stating this same thing, only I said "9:70" instead. It has become a running joke).
   
3. Sometimes I prefer to speak in Spanish. I just love the sound of it, and the feel of it in my mouth. But frankly, sometimes it makes the sappy things I want to say seem a bit less so. I'm not quite sure why, because I'm saying the exact same thing. For example, if I want to tell someone that I miss them, but I don't want to feel awkward about it, I'll say Te echo de menos. Which means "I miss you." Figure that one out.
   
4. I was born during Hurricane Andrew, down in Florida.
   
5. The only time I've been off of the North American Continent was when I went to Ireland a few years ago. We were in Co. Tipperary (where are ancestors were from) on my birthday, as a matter of fact. Oh, and the thing they say about the seven shades of green? Yep, that's true, except it's probably more like seven thousand.
   
6. In relation to 4: when we were at the Cliffs of Moher, an Austrian woman and one other person wanted to take my picture with the Cliffs in the background, only because I had red hair (the Austrian woman sent us a copy later on; the shot came out beautifully).
   


7. I have yet to fall in love. I think I'm too busy all the time to really look for love at the moment; not only that, but I've heard too many sob stories for comfort. You could say I'm afraid of rejection, but it's more rejection without reason that shakes me.
   
8. I take that back. If you want to get technical, I have fallen in love, except not with a human person. More like I've fallen in love with the piano, our gorgeous Steinway Oliver, to be specific.
   
9. In most one-on-one conversations, or with small groups, I'm fairly outgoing. But if I have to give a presentation, or there's a large group, I become very shy.
   
10. In choirs, I sing first soprano, which is the highest part.
    
11. Although, this past weekend I sang tenor in church, as I'm getting over a cold.
    
12. I adore classical music, but I don't like all the frills that go into going to a performance. You're just going to listen to music, not to listen to music and enter a beauty contest (but if you were/are, then that last bit doesn't apply to you. Whoever "you" are).
    
13. Sherlock Holmes is one of the many people I consider to be "The Man." I can't think of anyone else, real or fictional, who can deduce the way he can. And he's British, too! All the better! The whole drug thing's a bit of an issue, though...
    


14. I don't have a cell phone. Never really needed one; I don't have a "life." If I do go somewhere, I borrow the old "spare," and that's only to contact home if I need to do so.
    
15. I rarely watch T.V. This may be part of the reason I'm out of the proverbial loop. I don't watch because: a) I never have any time, and b) very few things strike me as interesting. Don't even get me started on "reality" shows.
    
    
16. I have, however, discovered the awesomeness that is "The Big Bang Theory."
    
17. I love the way physics twists my brain into knots. Like thinking about light: it's a particle which acts like a wave, except when its being observed... but that's quantum physics for ya.
    
18. If I could combine the feeling of my fingers after a good practice with the feeling of Spanish on my tongue and the brain-twisting of physics, I think I'd be the happiest person in the world.
    
19. I'm a huge fan of British humor. It's so dry, I love it!
    
20. I'm all for a healthy dose of daily nonsense. I often try to silly walk at least one step every day, much to the embarrassment of whoever happens to be walking next to me.
    
    
21. I absorb movie quotes like there's no tomorrow; they often come back out by way of my mouth.
    
22. I love words (surprise, right?). Sometimes if I'm bored, I'll flip open to some random page in the dictionary and find an interesting word
23. Sometimes I have the suspicion that I might have too much time on my hands.
    
24. I'm convinced that, between my own mental antics and those of my friends, I'll be in therapy by the time I'm thirty. And it won't be because I chose to be in therapy, I'll probably be perfectly content with my insanity, as I am now. I'll probably be there because people are concerned for me, and those people will have dragged me to the office.
    
25. I love ballroom dancing. I'll occasionally fox-trot in my kitchen, or tango in my bedroom, by myself (unfortunately). Often times I wish I had an excuse to ballroom dance in public.
    
    
26. I can't skate to adequately save my life. It's quite pathetic.
    
27. When I'm wearing my cotton scarf, black wool pea coat, blue hat, and sunglasses, I've been told that I look rather intimidating.

The Dual Citizenship Dilemma

Three words, my friends: I. Am. PSYCHED.
I found out last night from my friend Mistress Elsha that the long-awaited ficlets resurrection, ficly, is coming "soon." What "soon" means, I'm not sure; regardless, we've been waiting for this since The End.

-bows head in a moment of silence-

But, since The End, I've found a bit of a home in Protagonize. Granted, it took a while to get used to "it all," but I've bumped into a great deal of talent, read some awesome stories, and have made a few more friends. I feel a bit attached to this "temporary" home, but the thing we've been waiting for is coming.



Can I manage a dual citizenship? I mean, I want to do so; I want to get back to the short-short story that I used to love, to the vignettes that are my favorites. But at the same time, I like the freedom a longer segment gives me, and the handful of projects I've started such as The Smart Ones. Will I be able to keep an even balance between the two places, be loyal to the two?

Or will it end in disaster?

(I doubt it'll get that bad, but gotta plan for the worst... ^^)
(One must always plan for an EPIC FAILURE)