November poem a day challenge

I've almost kept up with the November poem a day prompts. The object of this challenge is to produce and submit a 10-20 page chapbook by the end of December -- so, not all of the November poems need to be included. Here's my first five days' attempts with the prompts.

More will follow.

November PAD 1
For today’s prompt, I want you to write a poem in which you (or something) enters something new. Sound abstract? Some examples: Write a poem in which you travel somewhere new. Or try some new exercise. Or diet. Or hair stylist. Or, well, I’m think you get the idea. And remember: It doesn’t have to be about you. You could, I suppose, write a poem about an insect entering a new phase of development. Or a plant being introduced to a new environment. And so on.

I’m always up for a challenge.
So when promised a point award
for upping my weekly steps total
by 1000, I took it and walked with it,
so to speak.
That meant only 10 minutes more
cardio exercise everyday
for seven days,
a surprisingly small commitment.
But when I finished the week,
successfully upping my total
more than the minimum 1000,
I was tired
and took the next day off.

 
November PAD 2
For today’s prompt, I want you to write a poem in which you look at something from a different angle. For instance, a chef could go out to eat at a restaurant where he’s not the chef, or a short person can look at the world from the vantage point of a tall person (maybe with the help of stilts or a stool or something). The predator could become the prey. The photographer could become the photographed. And so on and so forth.

Last night I judged a poetry reading.
High school students
showing few nerves
got up, stood at the podium,
and gestured appropriately
as they shared their favorite poems
and talked eloquently about their choices.
Judging a reading isn’t a simple task
especially when a monetary prize is involved.
But it’s so much easier than being judged
for reading poems myself.
 
November PAD 3
Prompt #1: Write a positive poem. Like how great writing a poem a day through November is. OR
Prompt #2: Write a negative poem. Like how un-great technological hiccups in November are.

Today it’s all bad:
the hair,
the face,
the job,
the boss,
the people on my work team,
the food.
It couldn’t get any
worse than a greasy plate
of chow mein for lunch.
Even after a piece of gum
the greasy taste remains.
So, today is a day to stay cool
and not make any rash decisions.
Just put one finger on the keyboard
at a time and push down
and let it all evolve
as it will.
Though tomorrow bodes to be
just as bad.
 
November PAD 4
For today's prompt, I want you to take the phrase "Maybe (blank)," replace the (blank) with a word or phrase, and write a poem using that new phrase as your title. Some example titles: "Maybe we really did need a bigger boat," "Maybe next time you'll listen to me," "Maybe never," "Maybe baby," and so on.

Maybe I should drive to Big Sur
instead of going to work.
I would see blue sky and small white clouds
once out of the city
and fog
hovering over the cliffs
as I climb the coast.
I would smell the salt and pine air
and stop and look at the ocean
lapping against the rocks
every few miles or so.
I would not be in a hurry
but once there,
I would immediately
run down the hill to the tubs
relax in a bath
of hot sulfur spring water
and let the stress of work
ease out of me.
And I would never look back.
 
November PAD 5
For today's prompt, I want you to write a growth poem. This could be psychological or emotional growth, physical growth, or however you'd like to take it. Maybe your poem is about growing hair or growing hungry or growing impatient or...

I’ve decided it’s time to look my age.
I’m done with the dyes and low lights
and all those bottled hair coloring potions.
I’m done with the bluing, the cinnamon, the henna.
I’ve dumped them in the trash.
I’m growing out
my natural gray/silver color.
Slowly, month by month
as the colored ends get trimmed,
more and more
of my true color shows.
Now, the question is,
will I keep it that way
once I’m done with being done
and dye it all over again?

A beautiful Sunday morning

We spent a lot of this weekend with my New Trier high school friends, culminating in Lee's birthday party yesterday. (I won't say how old he is because that will give away the age I'll become just a few months from now.) Suffice it to say I feel very blessed to still be so close to folks I knew way back when we were all working on the school newspaper together. Lee is the only one of us to actually work on a newspaper; however, that job was preceeded by stints at Penthouse and Hustler and rides on the magic bus with Ken Kesey and company. Needless to say, Lee has lived a long and interesting life. I love him dearly.

Unfortunately we didn't get a photo together, so I'll post some I took this morning during my big long Sunday morning walk. Today was a perfect day for the surfers, and they were out in droves.

Remembering those killed at Fort Hood

Last week a military psychiatrist opened fire at the Fort Hood military base in Texas, killing 13 soldiers and wounding another 30. It was a horrific act, and one hard to explain. There are rumors that the attack was terrorist inspired because the killer is a Muslim. And, it also could be explained away by post traumatic stress – which is now running rampant in the military. The memorial service was held yesterday with President Obama speaking. In reporting the event, one of the news people called the survivors the “walking wounded,” an expression someone used for me many years ago. It refers to those of us who have lost children. This killing touched me closely – young people dead, mourning parents, and all the possible result of mental illness.

It just never ends. And, it always makes me cry.

Let's not forget our military on this Veteran's Day.

Restaurant games

The other night while out to dinner with friends we tried to guess why a table nearby had an added feature -- a tall vase filled with beautiful red roses. Since no one was seated there yet, we really had no clue about the people when we started to play the what do you think the roses are for game.

With that my friend immediately suggested a marriage proposal. I countered with a 60th wedding anniversary celebration.

After the couple finally arrived we knew, even without any facts, that we were both wrong. He was kind of a paunchy, balding guy and she, not a spring chicken, was rather plain and dressed like she was living in the 50s of Donna Reed, wearing a long sleeve white blouse and a full skirt. She also had long wavy hair and wore dark rimmed glasses.

Could this be a first date? Had they met on match.com or eHarmony?

They certainly didn’t look like they knew or even liked each other very well. She sat in one corner of their booth and he in the other, barely talking to each other. Then when she returned to the table after a bathroom break she sat closer – but still they showed no affection toward one another. One would think if they were celebrating a special anniversary they would have looked lovingly at each other once in a while.

Well, we finally gave up and asked our server if she knew what they were celebrating. And, much to our surprise it was a 29th wedding anniversary.

Is that how most people who are married 29 years celebrate? Alone, sitting far apart, not talking to each other? Like they had nothing to celebrate at all?

The B series

Okay, here's the tweet size poems about the B. No names here. Just let it suffice that this pain in the A at work was a yeasty poetry subject....until she left the company. Right now, it's out of sight, out of mind. And, that's a good thing.

The B Series


The B swaggers across the room,
looking from side to side
with a judging pursed-lip smile
on her face. Doesn’t she know
that will cause wrinkles?

With her ubiquitous Coach bag
slung over her shoulder,
her Daytimer and papers
tightly in her arms,
she stomps her 4-inch heels
down the stairs.

I wonder why men
gather and cow-tow.
She’s got something they want.
Certainly not her sweet demeanor.
Oh right
I’m a girl.
No way I’d understand.

The B is retiring
Only 51 more days to deal with
her demands, her haughtiness,
and her lack of appreciation
No I won’t miss her
when she’s gone.

Little lacey see-through tops
Showing lots of arm
rhinestones on her belts
And short skirts with flounce
Anything to detract
From her flat chest.

Today it was a white low-cut
clingy number
with enough sheering across the breasts
to give the impression
of something under there after all.

Why does she
walk through my room?
Certainly the hall is there
for a reason.
Perhaps she’s out for
human adoration
rather than mean blank walls.

Why was her smile so wide
when Joe announced a security breech?
Was she reveling in someone else’s mishaps
or just savoring her own daydream?

She doesn’t seem to notice
how her stomach sticks out.
She just keeps strutting,
swinging her hips, and clicking those
heels across the floor.

Now here’s a scary thought.
She retires on October 31,
just two more weeks from now.
A perfect witchy day for
transforming the B into a W.
BOO!

This is it. This is her last day.
Her replacement is here.
He communicates, he’s pleasant,
and he can do her job without a hitch.
All is good.

Work life without the B
is peaceful. We communicate
openly without fear
of her insulting retorts
and fake-y slimy smile.
Our smiles now are real.

Palin -- the lowest common denominator

Yesterday I heard an interview with Michelle Norris of NPR and Mary Kehe, the book editor of the Christian Science Monitor, about the flood of books coming out about Sarah Palin. The last interchange really hit home to me, because of the number of rejections I’ve gotten about the subject matter of my book.

NORRIS: If we look at all of the Sarah Palin books that are about to be published, what do we learn about the book publishing industry in this moment?
Ms.
KEHE: Oh boy, I - you know, I hate to say it, but I don't think it paints a pretty picture. It seems to me it smacks of a bit of desperation. And in many cases it shows a little bit of disregard for quality, a willingness to cater, in some cases, not every case, certainly, but sometimes to a lowest common denominator.

Well, that conversation makes me feel less like a failure. I think my work is good. I've heard from others that it's good. Unfortunately, it’s not the subject matter that will grab a book agent or publisher who wants to deal with popular people and their thoughts no matter how banal they might be. And, I’m not a celebrity. One agent said she could only see a publisher interested in my book if I were a famous person. Well, maybe once the economy picks up, these folks in the book publishing world may be more willing to take some literary chances. I can wait.

Query update

So, I got the most direct rejection of my material via email yesterday. The agent, no, no names here, wrote me back almost immediately saying: “Thanks for the query, but I don't want to deal with such pain.”

I'm enraged that a person could be so short sighted and actually admit this. Yet, he is more courageous than most agents who just blandly say my material is not right for them or doesn’t fit into their list.

I am tempted to send Mr. Blatant Agent Glenn Close’s article. I’m tempted to send it to all the agents who have rejected my work, but it’s a waste of time. I need to keep moving on. I need to keep querying and taking the rejections – no matter how they come. I just read a success story – that it took an author three years to find her perfect agent. I’m not anywhere close to that. Another reason to keep querying on.

And, speaking of moving on, I’ve started the November Poem a Day (PAD) challenge. I don’t know if I’ll be able to continue with busy day job is this month, but at least I’ve started. I wrote the first two poems today – just little bitty things, but at least I wrote them. I also wrote another 140-character poem for the B series.

You'll see them all here -- soon, I promise.