Learned my love from puzzles young
Just sitting on the floor holding pieces
Just testing out by trial and error
Getting excited when I found one
Matching correct pieces that go together
At threes years old I held the piece
Turned it one way; then another
A big piece to fit with nine others
Try it in one area; it will not go
Try another it finally fits
At seven years old I held the piece
The one I knew would fit 100-piece puzzle
Smaller than I had at three
Turned it once and found the spot
Connected it in and it’s a fit
Another I’m older I hold a piece
Gleam from over from 1,000 pieces
Picked it up; eyed it carefully
Turn it once the other way
I still to do puzzle still today
Small hands reach for words on refrigerator
Take one word then another
Short lines begin to form
Two-line poems on refrigerator stay awhile
Until another idea replaces them
Small notepad with words written
Writing about sibling who is annoying
Short, short stories written were no one can find
Writing continued, on and off through school
Few poems written from class assignments
Saved in a small notebook or in desk
A gap when started working
No poems or writing were produced
A year of low; forced into unemployment
Poem writing to relieve oneself
From not being able to find job
Steadily writing grew from notebook
Copied into word documents many
Early one February morning
A blog was started to post about my poems
Slow and steady it began to gain
Followers flocked to read my poems
Until, I though I’ll compile a book
I gathered few poems; tweak them here and there
Found free self-publishing service for one still unemployed
Create a book, a cover too
Paid for only a proof which I could do
Promote book on blog; few copies sold
From no job but writing kept on going
Another year; another self-published book
More followers joined
Found a niche; writing poetry
Now a poet with nine self-published books
April 19th Prompt: An “origin story” is the back-story of how a character becomes a protagonist, or how super-heroines (or heroes) received their super-powers. Write a poem which imagines your back-story as either a poet or as a super-hero(ine).
Sing songs of joy.
Comes new life;
That death will be no more.
Break through with new beginnings.
Nothing misses the beat.
Life doesn’t sit around.
Brighten into similes,
Comes bounding into the light.
The poem that I used is called Evolution by John Banister Tabb
April 18 prompt from this site http://www.napowrimo.net/
What life would I have if I was born to a different couple?
A mom and dad who never got divorce;
Who had three kids instead of two.
Positive support system that could always be counted on.
A dad who said “I could do anything
And you can live the life you want.”
Parents encouraging my passion for taking photos and writing.
How I would on go to college taking classes that appealed to me
Instead of ridged major with no light at end of tunnel.
And graduate with custom course study
After five years instead of four.
Helping to pay my own by my photography and writings.
How after I started traveling around the world.
Continue learning and writing what I found.
Taking photos of my travels.
Blog about my travels with enthusiasm.
Then finding a way to make money.
Promote myself through writing and photos.
Even adding a dog companion to my travels.
We would travel from point to the next.
Finally creating a top selling book
After someone took notice of my blog.
How now a couple of books were published.
Then returning to home setup a photography business.
Which in turn became a big success.
As I continued my writing on the side.
The other day I met my alternative self
Sitting in a coffee shop with laptop
Typing away with the dog
Laying down beside the over comfy chair.
We greeted each other; ordered drinks.
I asked, “how did you manage to get this better life?’
Replied: “Through positive energy;
knowing what you want you can always get
no matter how hard it is to accomplish.”
With that we talked how I could still make my dreams come true.
April 17th Prompt: Imagine the life you would have led if you had been born under very different circumstances—in another country or to another couple or at a different century—and describe or narrate it. End your poem with an account of you yourself today meeting up with that other person.
Falling from the sky as light as can be
I see white feather hovering in breeze.
Falling silently; gently down from sky
Hovering it is not; glides back and forth,
Feather moves down slowly in a great arc.
To its finally resting place I see
On surface of roadway waiting for me;
To pick feather up I will with great haste;
Because I know it will bring me good luck.
For I hope this will turn my life around
With this feather in hand fortune changes
My life is uplifted to happy day.
This is the second time I have revised this poem. The previous title was Fall From The Sky. Since the original was close to a blank verse, I decided to edit it as such. So, each line is 10 syllables.
Dreams disappear in cloud of smoke
Particles only remain in dust
Of lost dreams that are gone
Never to come true they have parted the mind
Disappeared forever until a day
When something hits you over the head
Brings you back and to the dream you thought had gone
I look through the lens
To see life passing me by
I need to move now
Why does death look pale
In cold trance of life gone by
Death takes them in hand