A little context first, though:
Day before yesterday, tens of thousands of ordinary people all over the world -- people just like you, with jobs and school and kids and everything -- started writing novels which they will break their necks to finish by midnight on November 30. Why? Because November is National Novel Writing Month. No joke. That's NaNoWriMo to the hip and groovy.
(No, we're not daring you to write a novel. Keep reading. Although, if you did, nobody would cheer you on with more gusto than your Beehive pals.)
Turns out, this NaNoWriMo thing is huge, a swelling grass-roots phenomenon started just a few years ago -- quite by accident -- by a twenty-something California dude who was just feeling a little lonely at his laptop. See, he always wanted to write a novel, but he knew he'd never do it without some camaraderie and a kick in the proverbial pants.
So... he challenged all his friends to write a novel in one month. Goal: 50, 000 words, 176 pages -- about 6 pages a day. To his surprise, his friends -- and what a fantastic pack of pals they must be -- took him up on it. Got way into it, even. Several of them even finished. They threw a big party and wore silly paper crowns.
The following year, this thing somehow caught a big gust of wind through yahoogroups and blogs, and it pretty much exploded. NPR did a story, and now it's just out of control. The party is now held in a warehouse and people fly in from all over for it, with their 176 pages in tow, to collect their
Quality is not the issue here; finishing is. This is no-holds-barred writing with your hair on fire-- whatever comes to mind next is what you write.
Now, the thought of thousands of people freely writing at torpedo speed all around the world every day this month just lights my fire. I wish I were deranged enough to try it, but I just checked my schedule and wouldn't you know it, I already had plans to have fun this month.
But poetry... hey, that I could try. And still have fun.
I've always wondered what sort of poetry I would write if I just went at it wide open, breakneck speed, like a buffalo stampede. But I'm always too chicken to get out of my own way and just cut loose with the verbage in my head. I mean... yikes.
But I did it. Just now. Just to see what would happen, no other reason. Heh heh. I took the brakes off my brain and just wrote what flew through my head, no arguing, no negotiating. Wow. That was fun.
So I challenged Beatrice and Fa to try it. Being good sports, they hit the gas without checking their rear view mirrors. It took about four minutes.
Now we want to do it again. We might even do it every day this month, who knows? Would you join us if we did? I figure if we write 20-30 poems by December, a few of them might even turn out okay. Which is really not the point, but still. You just never know unless...
Come on, admit it. You want to try it. So open a new screen, and just start typing. If at least five people post their creations in the comments, we'll post ours.
Heheheh.
Posts
11 comments:
She wrote it at ten
Daring us to begin
The lateness of hour
The clouds of thought low'r
And sink to the pen
(Or keyboard. But keyboard doesn't rhyme, now, does it?)
I am no poet, but I can't wait to see what ya'll end up with. Have much fun and good luck.
One day I sat upon a hill
and looked upon an old, old mill.
I wondered what it used to do
and if the whole crew had the flu.
Today I want to eat a lot
and empty out that whole, big pot!
You must understand that this
Is not the way we write;
Not us.
Some of us are slower.
Do you know what it takes for us
To put words on paper?
For a slow, deep-dredging mind
To skim the surface of thought
And only write down the cream?
Just a poem,
That's all I wrote;
Not a novel,
Not a note.
It's not too brilliant,
But it's a start;
I wouldn't even
Call it art.
One more and it'll be your turn. :)
Hard to believe I’m even attempting
to try and get this down
with everything that spins around
Its here its there, who knows where else
if only I can bear
and you could care
Your turn!
The earth like a merry-go-round
Everything so busy and topsy turvy.
But the center like solid ground
Is that which keeps us afoot.
Foundations of sand, silver, and clay
All will soon vanish away.
The center, the rock is what we cling
And keeps us going and makes us sing.
Ok. Well, you asked for a poem from a brain with no brakes. Here you go!
They wanted me to write a poem,
So I thought I’d try and show ‘em
Just how silly I can be
When they try to challenge me.
I never know just what to think.
Sometimes my brain is on the blink.
I sit and think about my friends
And look through a converging lens
Of thought.
OK. Show your stuff...
the moonlight
bathes your gentle face
and finds its heaven in your eyes;
Silver, clear, and lovely.
But in your hair,
the silver turns to Gold;
and whispers peace
like wheat fields steeped
in sunlight.
ok, so i have a one track mind now. shoot me. :)
Mothers have the awesome work
Of growing babies. They cannot shirk.
It's such an honor and a pride
To think that there's a human inside.
I love the job of motherhood.
I'm tired, sick but doing good.
I'm so excited to see my baby
But sometimes I just think that maybe
It won't come out, despite my plea.
I'll look like this for eternity.
Why can't our waist line shrink instead
Of growing bigger, like an extra head?
Round and round,
my mind does swirl.
Pointless facts,
jumbled in a heap.
Muslim women
in far away places,
Ancient Greek men
natural philosopy,
The Supreme Court
opinions and decisions,
Foreign Policy:
Bush, Clinton, W.,
Shakespeare
homework, it never ends.
Round and Round,
my mind does swirl.
Fourty days
until graduation.
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