by the Read Write Poem Staff
Read Write Poem member Pamela Sayers says, “I live in Mexico, and one of the things I love most about this country is that people here celebrate their family and friends to the utmost.” And it is in that spirit that Pamela asks us to write about any celebration we have been to recently.
Write about a birthday party, a wedding, a baptism — any kind of celebration where you were with family or friends or both. Write about the colors you remember, the sounds (and how they made you feel) and the tastes you remember from any of those events. Did these things make you feel good? Did you experience any new foods? Did you meet any new people?
Sometimes, beyond our control, festivities can take a turn for the worse. Maybe that happened to you or someone you know. Whatever happened, be it great or not so great, let’s write about it!
Reminders for everyone
Read the Read Write Poem NaPoWriMo Challenge Kickoff post for details on how the challenge works — and how you can engage with Read Write Poem this month, no matter what your personal writing challenge is for the month of April.
Please read this page to find out how Read Write Poem’s prompt posts work. Remember that work linked from any post this month is shared in precisely that spirit: sharing, as opposed to critiquing. If you haven’t done so already, please read all the pages under About in the navigation bar.
My day 10 poem is written to the day 9 prompt – In Autumn I think I managed to incorporate most of the required elements.
As always, it is evening here so I will be using this one for tomorrow’s poem, if I can come up with something.
Mine is about an immenent celebration that takes place every year in Thailand: SONGKHRAN
Happy Happy Joy Joy…
rob kistner replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 2:07 am
…here’s my NaPoWriMo #10 — about a couple red-headed friends…
poemsotherwise.blogspot.com/2010/04/colour.html
Johannes Beilharz replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 1:48 am
3 lines and a picture can say it all. Thanks, Jeeves
pamela sayers replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 12:17 pm
Jeeves,
Nicely done! And I love the pic of the parrots.
Pamela
Robin replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 4:42 pm
Simple and beautiful!
Ditty – in celebration of a grey city morning
For all of you fans of 1960s TV, this former TV icon is celebrating a new job!
See my NaPoWriMo #10: Celebrating a New Job!
Best wishes everybody!
~Mark
http://BabblingOnInBabylon.com/Blog
Mark Lysgaard replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 1:47 am
Link above does not seem to work. Try this link:
http://www.BabblingOnInBabylon.com/Blog
Mark Lysgaard replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 1:50 am
you may have to just click on the blog tab if nothing turns up from the above link. Sorry. Not sure what the problem is…:-(
Here is mine:
http://flaubert-poetrywithme.blogspot.com/2010/04/celebration-napowrimo-10.html
there are celebrations, and sometimes un-celebrations, may we both have our fair share of both:
http://jdmackenzie.blogspot.com/2010/04/un-birthday.html
Woodpeckers
They call him the breeze – a 10-day late entry for #1. Didn’t know where else to put the link since the comments for #1 appear to be closed.
Mondays at Julie’s
the rich smell and deep gloss of
home grown aubergine roasted with garlic
a pot of spicy tea with fresh ginger
the dog working her own slice of watermelon
pale green rinds tossed to the chooks
clothes dusted with ceramic clay and oxides
chairs sitting casually under the
massive smooth creaminess of an old gum
her bark thrown to her feet
like a botanical snake skin
http://crankymango.blogspot.com/2010/04/mondays-at-julies.html
http://sadiespoems.blogspot.com/2010/04/celebration.html
A short one before I dash off and go camping for a night. Hopefully I won’t be too late back tomorrow so I don’t miss the deadline!
http://just-somestuff.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-10-on-birthday-night-out.html
Celebrations should all come with a Warning
I haven’t written to the prompt today because I found I REALLY dislike not having time to revise it. My poem today is at http://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com
Sorry to post this here, but I am a newbie to NaPoWriMo this year. I tried to post a link to my April 9th poem last night, and received the message that comments were closed – then I couldn’t seem to find anywhere here to comment it (I did send you a Tweet though). Anyway, here is the link – Dust Bowl (excerpt): http://wp.me/pJZoS-1x
Tim Keeton
Poet/Wizard/Teller-of-tales
I could not actually call this a celebration.
‘The Bourgeoisie Do Lunch’
http://rallentanda.blogspot.com
I wrote today’s poem before reading this prompt, but in fact it does partially relate. Decide for yourself: At the fairgrounds. If you don’t have the password yet, you can get it by e-mailing me.
I liked the prompt..but the poem(?)..didn’t want to party.
http://onetimepad.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/nolo-contendere/
Doug replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 10:19 am
never mind …no more poems
back to politics
You’ll find it below my Saturday Spotlight item.
Cheers!
http://melrosemusings.blogspot.com/2010/04/saturday-spotlight-and-napowrimo-day-10.html
vivienne Blake replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 7:11 am
Nice one, Derrick. I read it AFTER I posted mine, but your consistent rhyme and rhythm put me to shame!
Uma Gowrishankar replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 11:21 pm
Great party update Derrick, love your poem.
Interesting prompt…
Hrmm…
daimlergunrow replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 8:43 am
So here’s mine:
The Safari
Somewhat cheating today with a promise to TRY to write later.
http://poiesis3.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-day-10.html
A Local Favorite (& how cultures clash):
Sugar On Snow
This definitely took a turn away from the prompt. Oh well, sometimes the subjects choose you.
http://scriptophobe.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-10-180-degrees.html
http://mothersparrow.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/scholarly/
Here’s a rough first draft – needs a lot of work, but I loved the prompt for all the memories it invoked.
Gran’s Golden Wedding
I was sixteen, the grans were 72.
Now I’m 72 and the grans long gone
but their party was something else.
Aunts and Great Aunts,
Uncles and cousins galore
specially my favourite, red-haired John.
The tables were laden
with ham and chicken,
and trifle with cream,
wine too, for a treat:
post-rationing food, the height of de luxe.
There were posh frocks and frillies,
and Dad wore his tux.
Grandad sang his party piece:
a plaintive Alice Blue Gown.
Uncle Bob sang Bless This House
and Aunty Win played Chopin.
Gran was tiddly, she did a knees-up
just like Mother Brown.
My sister and I sang London Pride
and nearly brought the house down.
The old photos brought tears to my eyes.
Why don’t we have parties like that nowadays.
Marianne McNamara replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 7:53 am
Lovely, lovely memories. “Gran was tiddly, she did a knees up!” Wonderful!!!!
Ron. replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 8:59 am
Lovely Ubi Sunt
vivienne Blake replied:
April 11th, 2010 at 3:37 am
Throwing my mind back 60 years to schooldays: ubi sunt = where are they? Is that what you meant?
derrick replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 10:06 am
Hello Vivienne,
Thanks for your kind comment. Your rhymes are right there and this has great charm. Nothing is quite the same as those old family get-togethers.
pamela sayers replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 1:06 pm
Viviblake,
Lovely and loving memories. Oh how I love trifle! I haven’t had it in ages.
Pamela
Cara Holman replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 10:17 pm
What a charming reminiscence.
Not feeling at all celebratory today, but wrote this, which is at least positive. Not on prompt, though: http://poemblaze.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/keeping-positive/
the jewish faith has so many lovely rituals and celebration, mexico too. I wish i had stories like that about celebration, so instead I did one about the lack of celebration about anything in england.
The Northern Girl’s Quinceanara
We had no Bat Mitzvah or Quinceanara,
Girls from the North decked in nightdresses,
silky pastels taking colour from every summer
we’d sweep up after.
We lounged at the altar of our father’s slippers, moving the half moons of toenail clippings, promising anyone who’d listen they’d be our bridesmaid one veiled day
we’d marry taxidermists or boys who used to scare us
with frogspawn in our lunchboxes.
We dreamt of dead parrots and exotic reptiles
made into pet shop pork, spam and sliced tongue
on curled half bread buns, sliced sausage, cheese
and pineapple cubes speared on neon plastic swords, an Excalibur in foil wrapped oranges on folding tables.
The multi tiered dress like a cake was pale, far away.
No celebration of a certain age, we made our rituals,
forced our feet into V’s, grew extra bones in our heels, gave ourselves birthday cards of instructions
of our first home perm.
At fifteen, our mother’s said we were old enough now to do our own ironing, white envelopes of Kotex stopped appearing in drawers between our bras.
We saw their absence like the tooth fairies shroud.
Then, we offered to help with the shopping, smuggle
home brand items in amongst the broccoli, coins sweating in our hands as our red faces waited
for cashiers who weren’t brother’s of kids at school.
They taught us patience, they taught us shame.
This was our coming of age.
Robin replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 5:32 pm
Oh…this is powerful. Yes, there are all types of rituals…some happy, some not quite. Great job.
The Northern Girl’s Quinceanara
We had no Bat Mitzvah or Quinceanara,
Girls from the North decked in nightdresses,
silky pastels taking colour from every summer
we’d sweep up after.
We lounged at the altar of our father’s slippers,
moving the half moons of toenail clippings,
promising anyone who’d listen
they’d be our bridesmaid one veiled day
we’d marry taxidermists or boys
who used to scare us with frogspawn in lunchboxes.
We dreamt of dead parrots and exotic reptiles
made into pet shop pork, spam and sliced tongue
on curled half bread buns, sliced sausage, cheese
and pineapple cubes speared on neon plastic swords,
an Excalibur in foil wrapped oranges on folding tables.
The multi tiered dress like a cake was pale, far away.
No celebration of a certain age, we made our rituals,
forced our feet into V’s, grew extra bones in our heels,
gave ourselves birthday cards of instructions
of our first home perm.
At fifteen, our mother’s said we were old enough
now to do our own ironing, white envelopes of Kotex stopped appearing
in drawers between our bras.
We saw their absence like the tooth fairies shroud.
Then, we offered to help with the shopping, smuggle
home brand items in amongst the broccoli,
coins sweating in our hands as our red faces waited
for cashiers who weren’t brother’s of kids at school.
They taught us patience, they taught us shame.
This was our coming of age.
vivienne Blake replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 8:36 am
I remember those rites of passage you describe so well.
You’re not the only to have problems with this site – it’s not exactly user-friendly!
sorry about double post- have real format probs in these boxes
Birthday time!!!
http://herwordsbloomed.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-10-celebrate.html
vivienne Blake replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 8:48 am
Reminds me of a poem I wrote 2 years ago – it began:
What is it like to be seventy?
Inside it’s exactly like twenty
etc.
I know now! Thanks for your fun poem. I love the concentration on food.
I really couldn’t think of anything deep and weighty, so somewhat lighthearted and recent this time. F(e)asting
http://systematicweasel.blogspot.com/2010/04/rock-bayou-4-10-2010-poem-day-challenge.html
There’s my take on the prompt. My celebration was one of music. A couple years ago Houston had a 4 day rock festival called Rock The Bayou, which I attended. It was pretty fun!
Ok, here’s what I’ve got: http://disorder1313.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/poetry-blogging-a-primer/
Good morning!
A poem about how the times aren’t really a-changin’ all that much. The title and first line are from Charles Mingus.
http://jasoncrane.org/2010/04/10/poem-oh-lord/
“You must pay the rent!”
“I can’t pay the rent!”
All the best,
Jason
my first reaction is why?
(grumpy this morning)
Galther Of Gottingen
Angeliad of Surazeus
2010 04 10
http://open.salon.com/blog/surazeus/2010/04/10/galther_of_gottingen
Young boy with blond hair and green eyes
wearing leather pants and flowing jacket
walks whistling with a bag of gold coins
his father earned selling bags of wheat
to buy two new horses to plow their fields.
Galther strides with sweet joy in his heart
listening to birds chirp sweet in tall trees
as sunlight glitters on waves of a river
where people in boats catch fresh fish
and he sees a hawk soar from a cliff
and snatch a small bird in sharp claws.
Two men smoking pipes and eating cheese
lounge under oak at turn of flowing river
so they hail and talk about warm sunlight
then he answers queries with jaunty grin
I am going to Gottingen to buy horses
then pats gold bags as he strides on road.
Short man with beard and broad-rim hat
drapes arm around his shoulder and smiles
I know a farmer with excellent strong horse
so forget those horses bred in city streets
for horses raised on farms endure work more
so come with me to meet my noble friend.
Galther thanks him with words of praise
take me to farm of your friend so I may see
these excellent horses with my own eyes
so they jaunt together to old stone ruins
where they build fire and eat fried eggs.
Short man who calls himself Pyoter Brum
lays hand on his shoulder and explains
my friend is afraid of strangers so he may
lunge at you with sword to slash your heart
so be careful but Galther stares in shock
and explains I will go to town instead.
Pyoter grips his arm and whispers low
look through mist into that broad field
and see those two strong horses with manes
that flow in wind for they pull plows well
so trust me with gold and I will see owner
and buy those horses for you to take home.
Galther considers wanting to leave farm
but Pyoter takes bag and walks toward house
and disappears in mist so he waits hours
feeling his heart beat in anger and fear
then he walks toward house and knocks bold
asking old woman for horses to take home.
Old woman glares at him and grips a spear
shouting how dare you try to steal my horse
but Galther tries to explain Pyoter came
and gave you bag of gold to buy your horse
but she shouts no one brought bag of gold
so leave or I will plunge spear in your heart.
Galther walks away with beating heart
and stares at horses grazing in cold mist
then realizes how Pyoter Brum tricked him
while sitting alone all night by river shore
till hot rage cools down into determination
to find him and retrieve his bag of gold
for I will not go home till I buy two horses.
Galther walks into city maze of Gottingen
and finds work in stable tending horses
then explores all over crowded city streets
for six months searching for gold thief
till one day he is leaning against a wall
eating an apple across from a clothing shop.
Galther spies Pyoter in new set of clothes
of elegant boots and long flowing cape
and new hat with a long white feather
so he follows thief who struts in great pride
till they walk down a narrow back alley
and Pyoter turns and pulls out a new staff.
Galther grips sturdy oak wand of power
his father taught him how to create
and chants you stole gold from my father
so I come to take gold back from your hand
then Pyoter swings in wild angry fear
but Galther ducks low and thrusts upward
knocking wind from his lungs so he staggers
then he swings down and bashes his head.
Pyoter crawls in mud on hands and knees
as Galther grips his long tangled hair
and kicks his new hat away into mud
then punches his face that splatters blood
as Pyoter begs please stop hitting me
stranger for I never did you any wrong.
Galther pulls his head and glares in eyes
so Pyoter sees his own face more clear
and growls you stole gold from my hand
by tricking me with that lie about horses
so now you will pay back gold you stole
because my father earned that wealth
with hard work of his earth-digging hands.
Young girl with blond hair steps from door
asking father why are you bleeding now
and stares at Galther in trembling fear
but Galther pulls Pyoter up on his feet
and smiles wiping mud and blood off skin
and along with gold you stole from my hand
I will take your daughter to be my wife.
Pyoter hobbles inside his elegant home
where his daughter cleans his bloody face
and Galther sits at table with beef steak
and ripe oranges and grapes and walnuts
and eats while Pyoter bathes himself clean
then joins him at table and gives him bag
with half number of coins that he stole.
Galther takes Gertrude in a white gown
to church where he makes her his wife
then he lives with Pyoter and his daughter
organizing business of renting big wagons
for merchants to haul goods from farms
into town to store in warehouses for sale.
Galther becomes rich and amasses gold
and Gertrude bears him seven daughters
and three sons who grow healthy and strong
while Pyoter keeps track of money in books
and they celebrate growing wealth with feasts.
Galther takes ten horses back to his farm
but finds grave of his father by oak tree
and his old mother grips his face in sorrow
we thought you were killed by thieves
and your father died from a broken heart
then she weeps petting manes of a horse.
Galther stands before fountain in square
speaking before big crowds of angry people
priests of Rome steal money from our hands
with indulgences that empty our coffers
so we starve and our farms fall into ruins
while priests live fat in mansions of stone
and steal land belonging to our fathers.
Galther appears before council of elders
and declares give me money and men
to organize wild boys running in our streets
and I will mold them into an army of men
to protect our city from thieves of Rome
so they give him commission with brass key
to unlock door of armory with metal forge.
Galther hires smiths to forge new weapons
as swords and sharp tips for long spears
and helmets and breastplates and bowls
for soldiers to drink water while they march
and he hires tailors to make new uniforms
from leather and wool to keep them warm.
Galther gathers wild boys from city parks
and takes them all from maze of streets
to open field near river sparkling in sun
and trains them in units to march and fight
giving each man a uniform with boots
and provides swords and sturdy wood staffs
and spears and bows with soaring arrows.
Galther rides horse before army of boys
and proclaims pointing to invading army
those men come to steal land of our fathers
those men come to drink water of our wells
those men come to take our pretty wives
and make them slaves to their evil lust
but will you let them step on your faces
or will you fight and drive them into hell.
Boys howl raising weapons toward blue sky
and follow Galther charging forth to battle
then men clash weapons in brutal fights
as thousands fall bleeding into wet mud
while Galther rides horse into wild crowd
swinging sword to hack off a thousand heads
till sun sinks burning red on a field of blood.
Galther strides among men who survived
tending wounds and boiling cauldrons of stew
and giving flasks of wine and slices of bread
then stands alone on a hill as dawn sun
gleams gold over distant mountain peaks.
A tear flows down his dirt-stained cheek
as Galther stands soaked in black blood
and sighs I set forth that day with hope
and light heart loving beauty of this world
listening to birds chirp sweet in tall trees
but I forgot to listen to birds all these years
and he smiles listening to birds chirp again.
Pyoter and two grandsons find Galther
slumped over under oak by sparkling river
having died from a sword through his side
so they haul him on wagon back to town
where thousands line streets in silent awe
while priest sprinkles water on his face
and lifts hands upward toward gold sun.
Little girl holding hand of her mother
stares at body of her father on wagon
surrounded by huge crowd of silent people
who bow their heads and pray for peace
as mother Gertrude whispers great Gott
take his soul to heaven for his good deeds.
Red, a rough american sentence.
Here is my celebration, a very Indian, a very Tamil spread –
http://umaathreya.blogsome.com/2010/04/10/bitter-sweet-sauce-of-life/
Mine’s about Easter celebration,
first Easter get-together
A Haiku about Passover
http://www.redbubble.com/people/nebsy/writing/4976570-napowrimo-10
pamela sayers replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 1:43 pm
Cool Nebsy!
Another poem for fun. Stan Ski has put me in a transliterative mood. For those who like a giggle try;
Transliteration
ERLKONIG by Goethe
http://rallentanda.blogspot.com
I took this opportunity to rewrite and sort-of squish together two old poems –
http://another2doors.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/old-kentucky-memorial-day/
celebrating 6 years of poetry and friendship in a twisted way …
http://caroleesherwood.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/napowrimo-10/
Funny enough I was at a party tonight with no time to write. I now need sleep in order to get up for work in the morning and it’s 2am… this is what I call dedication to a challenge. Nite, nite all
http://redshoepoet.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-10.html
Simple haiku for in celebration of today’s prompt at http://1965footprints.blogspot.com
Annual milestones
too heavy in my pocket
now that I am old.
Evelyn N. Alfred replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 12:05 pm
I like it Marie.
pamela sayers replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 1:58 pm
Nice Marie!
http://bitsandpieces.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/napowrimo-10-celebrate/
“Spring”
http://tinacelio.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/stars-fell-on-alabama/
I didn’t start the challenge early enough and there’s no way I can write a poem a day, although I am trying, but this is my respose to #10 – celebrate
First steps
Planning Daddy’s birthday tea,
in the dining room,
I at the table, writing lists,
you burbling happily on the floor.
Suddenly
it’s fanfares of trumpets as
you silently capture my whole attention
regarding me gravely to be sure.
You stand unaided and walk
across the room, diagonally,
crowing with triumph.
I saw them walking on the moon
but that was nothing, after all.
Happy Birthday Daddy!
Thanks Pamela for the wonderful prompt! I can’t believe I’m already done for the day.
http://paperdreams-jgc.blogspot.com/2010/04/day-10-what-god-has-joined-together-let.html
My little one turned 9 on Easter our most recent family celebration if you’d like to call it that.
http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474978164696
I tried a new poetry form for today’s prompt. A ottava rima. http://goo.gl/fb/TQNKS
vivienne Blake replied:
April 10th, 2010 at 12:25 pm
This rings my bells, Evelyn.
I suppose I’m celebrating a disaster, but some disasters are worth celebrating.
“I Diminished”
http://nothinghypothetical.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/i-diminished/
My celebration was from Easter, and involved:
Cracking an Egg
No prompt-using today, but at least the poem is done
http://yearofthebooks.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/poem-a-day-poem-10/
A celebration of life:
http://lanijo.com/poetry/rocios-going-away-party
Two snapshots: then and now. Celebrational, yes, but I veered away from the sentimental, with these more thought-provoking pieces.
‘Sunday Mass’ is a reflection on my Catholic childhood. ‘This is the church’ reflects how my adult spirituality has become humanist.
Read the full poems at http://www.gregoconnell.com
Birthday.
http://pamelavillars.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/april-10-10-birthday/
Mine is not really a celebration per se, but rather a ritual celebrated from before the couple is married for the duration of the family.
http://synecdochicstuff.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-10.html
My real life is pretty dull, so I dipped into my vintage sci-fi cartoon life for this one…
http://novaheart.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/poem-41010-the-day-we-saved-the-world/
Here’s today’s poem, written to a different prompt:
http://memali.posterous.com/1030-65
A short poem about a wedding and one’s sentiments about it is posted here.
Later than usual, but I finally got an idea. http://rhiannonproblematising.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/napowrimo-10-family-gathering/
Hi there,
Today I´ve tried an Imagism poem.
http://bit.ly/9nQECi
http://marcieaf.blogspot.com/2010/04/napowrimo-10.html
I’m in with an ABCedarian
He’s seventy now
Surrounded by his loved ones
A treasure to keep
Today’s poem is just a haiku. I didn’t have time or energy for more today, but It think it still fits the prompt.
Here’s my off-prompt poem for today. I’m going to a 50th birthday party tonight, so thought I’d do today’s prompt tomorrow. As always, I welcome feedback…
~~~
Visible Spectrum
Orange has been vying for my attention
for months now, stretching its arm high
like an eager school girl—
pumpkin, tiger, flame!
Violet makes an appearance as well
in eggplants and lupine;
and green, of course, with its myriad hues,
favorite of sun-eaters and the sea.
The occasional spectral orchestra:
parrot, rainbow, clown.
All the names we give them—
Chartreuse, Crimson, Indigo.
In a paint store I once found
a shade christened Kangaroo Paw.
A mere sliver is all we perceive
within the range of wavelengths,
and that is more than we can capture,
though boldly we try.
lucychili replied:
April 11th, 2010 at 2:00 am
This reminds me of Van Gogh
here is #10…much earlier today and CELEBRATING al the poets
http://waynepitchko.blogspot.com
I am back on-prompt today, with a boringly titled poem.
Celebration
30% done – w00t!
http://eveningpoems.blogspot.com/
I’m a little late to the party today!
November, 2000
Not all celebrations are completely happy. Here, “A Celebration of Life”:
http://caraholman.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/2010-napowrimo-10/
Thanks to everyone who stopped by my blog– your comments are very much appreciated, even if I can’t always find the time to respond to every one. I’m also taking the Poetic Asides PAD challenge, and two poems a day is challenging indeed!
it’s too beautiful out to stay inside the garden is calling my name… love this challenge tho it’s moving in on everthing else… backwards bliss
Mine is called Baptism
Bird Island