NaPoWriMo · Poetry · Writing

#NaPoWriMo ~ The Half-way Mark

Half-way through April means it’s half-way through National Poetry Month and thus NaPoWriMo.

I have kept up, more or less. Well, I say more or less – I have written something every single day but some have been somewhat half-hearted efforts.

Take my poem from 13th April for example:


Poems are like chocolate bars –

Never there when you really need them.


Not exactly my finest work ever, but I was tired after a day of fever and sickness and it was about all I could manage to jot down two lines.

I have been using the prompts from on days where I haven’t been sure where to start and just when I wanted to try something new – they are great for discovering different forms of poetry that I hadn’t previously heard of or tried. Like yesterday’s prompt to write a poem in Persona of a character – I enjoyed trying to capture the essence of one of my favourite book characters in a poem. I was quite pleased with it up until Caius read it and thought I was trying to be artistically racist in the voice of a character – I am using the fact that he didn’t know the character and hadn’t twigged that it was about White and Black magic to stop myself from despairing too much.

I have written a couple of poems I like, though they are only first drafts due to the nature of the challenge. By the end of it I hope I will have a few poems to edit and spruce up to maybe enter into competitions along with some disasters and a couple that aren’t polished but mean something to me.

Like this one from the 12th, which I wrote with my little boy in mind.

Arthur Harry

It’s hard to imagine,

When you’re curled here on my knee,

That not so very long ago you were a tiny newborn babe.


It’s hard to imagine,

When you’re clinging to my arm,

That I’ll have to let you go one day.


It’s hard to imagine,

When I’m blowing your snotty nose,

That you’ll be a man one day, with children of your own.


It’s hard to imagine,

The day your voice will break,

And the day you leave to make your own home.


It’s hard to imagine,

So I don’t think I will,

I’ll hold you close whilst you’re still small,


And let the future lie.

All Poems ©Carole H Holland 04/2013

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