Tag Archives: April is National Poetry Month

Some Like it Hot – National Poetry Month – April 10th

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April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 10/30 – April 10th.

Some Like it Hot

It appears to be mundane
It’s a ritual actually

Remove the lid of the hand-held manual grinder

Open the stainless steel,
matte turquoise,
airtight canister

Vital next step to follow

Inhale deeply
Instant mood uplifter

Take hold of the the shiny metal scoop
Dip into the beans, filling the scoop
Pour beans into the manual grinder

Lid back in place
Begin to turn the grinder handle
Turn, squeak
Turn, squeak
Turn, squeak

Beans are coarsely ground
Unscrew the grinder
Pour freshly ground beans
Into a smaller,
Stainless steel,
matte yellow,
airtight canister

Inhale deeply

To the percolator
Add a cup,
plus a tad more,
of reverse osmosis water
Assemble the percolator

First the filter holder
Then the filter

Scoop an overflowing mound of
Freshly ground beans
Pour into filter
Add filter cover
Close percolator

Ignite the back stove burner on the right
Turn knob to high
Place percolator on burner

Ears on high alert
Listen for the magical, gurgling music
The percolator sings

When it’s singing
Set timer for two minutes, 30 seconds

Ding
Ding
Ding

Turn burner off
Remove percolator
Transferring it to the front left burner

Large mug ready to be filled

It sits on the curved,
olive-wood cutting board,
To the left of the stove top

With my left hand
Grab the hand-made pot holder
Knitted by my oldest

Using the percolator handle
Lift it from the burner with my right hand

As I tilt to pour the dark, steaming liquid
Place the pot holder on top of the percolator
Apply pressure

Place percolator on the back left burner
Once cool
Empty and rinse
Ready for the next cup

Lift mug
Inhale deeply

Walk to the rocking chair
The one by the windows
The windows with the views
Views of the Virginia Foothills and Mt Rose

Have a seat
Hold mug
Wrap hands around mug
Warm hands

Inhale deeply

Wait for coffee to cool,
Just slightly

Sip
Scroll

Sip
Scroll

Sip
Scroll

It appears to be mundane
It’s a ritual actually

Camilla Downs, 2024

Prompt: Write a poem about something mundane that you do regularly, that you’ve never written a poem about before.

Vibing With My Thoughts – National Poetry Month – April 8th

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April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: #8 for April 8th.

Vibing With My Thoughts

Gather my thoughts you say?
Scores of racing thoughts
Each vying for attention
Each waving a red flag of urgency

Let’s take a tour
Camilla’s brain tour

ADHD is wild
A persistent flow of thoughts,
Difficult to focus on any one thought
ADHD for damn sure puts the spice in neurospicy

There’s the check with the pharmacy thought
The return the dermatologist call thought
The send those emails and texts thoughts
The did I respond to them? thoughts

The oh, keep stepping outside to view the eclipse thought

I want to write today’s poem
Yes, yes, after I eat
Oh, let me take this call from my co-worker

The distracting thought of pain from
From
From
Who knows what

Oh shit, I’ve got to help Thomas with
Their college to do list

What is that person doing outside?
Why are they doing that?

What the hell is that noise?
Takes 15 minutes investigating the noise
This brain cannot deal with random noises
Thoughts are completely derailed

Right, I’m ready to think about publishing that next book

Oh, there are Family Navigation clients
that need my attention

Wow! That’s an amazing cloud
Steps outside to take 10 photos
Of the clouds

Glancing at the plants,
Damn, the plants need water

And what is all over the floor?
I really need to vacuum.

Glances at boxes ready for items
To be returned
Shit. I need to print return labels

Sees a phrase that catches my attention
That would make a great poem
Opens notes to make a reminder of it

Sees another reminder
With unfinished thoughts
Gets distracted for 20 minutes

The bladder adds to the thoughts
It will be ignored no longer
Restroom break
Gets in the bathroom
Remberers for the hundredth time
The sink and counter need cleaned

Hey now, I know this sounds wild
To be sure, it is
I thrive with my hyper active brain
It’s good vibrations

Now imagine three of us in the
Household with the same thing
Makes for some lively conversations
Lively disagreements
I mean, lively conversations

Then there’s the thoughts
That get lost in a hidden fold of the brain
Designated as “The Corner of Lost Thoughts”

I imagine a tiny sign
With the words “enter here”
It’s divided into three sections

One section for thoughts
That will soon be remembered and recovered

Another section for thoughts
That will be remembered months later
This section is more comfortable,
With lots of food and drink
As they’ll be there for a while

The last section is a graveyard
With tiny tombstones engraved with things like,
“Here Lies Thought #222
It was important for 67 seconds
It had a lively life
Trying to get to the front of the thoughts line”
As you might have guessed
This is where thoughts go to die

On the flip side
When I’m working on something
I’m interested in
Something that lights my fire
Excites the hell out of me

I hyper focus
Deep Diving
Wrangling all other thoughts
Moving them into a holding pen
To wait their turn
While I enjoy the dopamine hits
Of working on a thought
Taking it from it’s birth to it’s ending
Giving it wings,
infusing it with knowledge
Releasing it to work its magic

Writing this poem
Any poem
Any writing
Researching something of interest
Taking actions that will
Light a fire under people’s ass
to do their damn jobs

Theses things light me on fire
Beginning with the initial sparks
The fire grows, consuming my attention
Holding my attention
With a tenacity backed and rooted
By the Gods of Tenacity themselves

Gather my thoughts, you say
I adore the way my brain works
And truly love this about myself
It’s a wild, magical ride
Camilla Downs 2024

**Prompt: from Monday Night Poetry host 2Schae: “Let me gather my thoughts”

She is Fire – National Poetry Month – April 7th

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April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: # 7 for April 7th.

She is Fire

Lost
Anxious
Worried
I eventually make my way to you

When I quiet myself
Gazing into you
I feel the loving adoration you share

Nothing else exists
Only us

I feel the force of the universe
The power that holds everything together
I remember that I am a part of this cosmic symphony

With you watching over me
I feel the innate freedom
That has always been with me

I feel it rising from my abdomen
Gliding past my lungs
Gathering power
Moving into my esophagus
Sliding to my throat
Coalescing in my voice box
Escaping from my body
As I lift my chin
And howl with the force
Of an ancestral line of strong, fierce women

The thoughts that hold me back
Beat me down
Tell me all sorts of bullshit about myself

Those thoughts
They can be real assholes

Why did you say that?
Why did you do that?
Telling me I’m broken
Telling me people don’t like me
Telling me I’m too weird
Telling me that I share too much
Telling me I’m too open
Telling me I’m not worthy
Telling me I don’t make sense
Telling me I did it wrong
Telling me I did it wrong
Telling me I did it wrong

I’ve come a long way in conquering these thoughts
Just a whisper is all that remains
It’s gotten easier

With you reminding me
I know the force is within me
That force lives within the grooves of my brain
I know this is the way
“The Way” is now tattooed across my heart

I catch those thoughts the second
They invade my space
Reminding myself
That none of that is true

Gazing into you
I can see the path I have traveled
A path decorated with stardust
Wine
Laughter
Chocolate
Rain
Honeysuckle
Poetry
Words
Music
Love

An expedition of shaking loose
The shit that doesn’t have anything to do with me
Making my way to falling in love
With my weirdness,
My shine
My body
My chaotic fire
My authentic, vulnerable self

Thank you
Camilla Downs 2024

Today’s condensed prompt: Use this image and the image description below as a jumping off point for the poem. (From Ella Peary with @authorspublish)

Dear Mx. Ogir – National Poetry Month – April 6th

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April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: #6 for April 6th.

Dear Mx. Ogir,

It is bitterly cold today, with gusts of wind making it difficult to walk. The sun encourages me that warm days will return soon.

I thought I could hear the wind whispering your name. The clouds reminded me of your beautiful face, your jet black hair. I could picture your dark brown, sultry eyes, with thick eyelashes and the natural black eyeliner circling your eyes. I spotted a patch of pink tulips swaying in the breeze, reminding me of your perfectly pink, cupid’s bow shaped lips with their natural light brown outline.

Do you miss me? What do you miss most?

Love,
Camilla

Dear Mx. Ogir,

On my walk today the sun was shining, the warmth fueled me with energy. The sky was an azure shade, I think maybe Celtic azure, with no clouds. I saw three butterflies, western tiger swallowtails. They are such stunning creatures.

I heard the song that played that day in the car. It was your birthday. I was driving, we were going out to lunch, and then to the museum. Do you remember?

It was a delicious day. We had fun, behaving as if we were teenagers, sneaking kisses and hugs when no one was looking.

I think of you often. Do you think of me?

Love,
Camilla

Camilla Downs, 2024

**Prompt: Write an epistolary poem to your future self, or to someone else, or something else. An epistolary poem is a poem that reads as a letter. They are often titled Dear (name of intended recipient or idea).**

July 9 2015 – National Poetry Month – April 5th

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April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: #5 for April 5th.

July 9, 2015

I pulled over to the shoulder of the on-ramp
The one from Neil Road,
getting onto South 395

I got out
Walked to the passenger side
Leaned my butt against the car

Closed my eyes,
took a few deep breaths,
and asked to see the situation differently

I opened my eyes.

On the rocky, dirty ground,
Was a shiny, red jewel heart

There was my answer,
A reminder to respond with love

It was a scorching hot day in July 2015
I was running errands with
my 14-year-old special needs daughter
We stopped by the grocery store

Miscommunication led to a full
Blown aggressive meltdown for Lillian

Yelling
Grabbing and clawing at me
Pulling my hair

I panicked
Quickly leaving the store
Lillian following behind me
Screaming with the full force
Of her tiny body

Reaching the car
Losing all ability
To think logically

Lillian still in full-blown meltdown mode
I utter the ridiculous words,
“Get into the car if you want a ride home”

I wore a halter top that day
Lillian sits in the back,
behind the driver’s seat

We left the parking lot
Lillian began deeply scratching me
Pulling wads of hair from my head

Stuck in traffic
I could feel the blood dripping down my back
Head throbbing
From the chunks of hair being pulled out

The pain
Birthed intense anger
Lodging in my throat
Urging my tongue
To say something
Defend myself
Rip into this person
Attacking me

The anger flooded my mouth
Rising from my neck
Into my mind
Creating waves in my eyes
Waves that leaked
From the corners

The anger dripped into my chest
Trying to break the dam surrounding my heart
Making it’s way down my legs
Into my feet
Puddling in my toes

The anger moved with a typhoon
Force into my arms
Down to my hands
Into my fingers

Once pulled over
Turning to face Lillian
Hands gripping the headrest
The Anger erupted
My voice raised, my mouth let loose
With a colorful string
Of foul-mouthed words

Leave me the fuck alone
Stop hurting me
I don’t let anyone
Hurt me in this way
Never again

Sweating
In pain
Sobbing
I knew I must remove myself
From the situation
I got out of the car

No jive talking here
Whatever your beliefs
Some shit aligned in that moment
For when I asked to see this
Fucking uncomfortable, horrible situation differently

I was presented with
This amazing shiny, red heart
In the trashy, dirty on-ramp shoulder
Off Neil Road,
Getting on South 395
In Reno, Nevada
The Biggest Little City
On a scorching, hot summer day
In July 2015.
Camilla Downs 2024

**Prompt: Write a poem about an experience finding something unexpected on the ground.**

What is Poetry – National Poetry Month – April 1st

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April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Poem: #1 for April 1st

What is poetry?

Poetry is the feel of the breeze
as it brushes against your skin,
through your hair

It’s the soft touch of another
as they hold your hand,
press their lips against yours

It’s the loving hug of another
Two warm bodies pressed together
Letting them both know they are loved

It’s the sounds of the birdsong,
the song of the crickets,
the purrs of a beloved cat

Poetry is the words of another
Felt in the depths of your soul

Poetry is
The words that move you
Words that take you by the hand and heart
Words that bring a smile or a laugh
Words that take your breath away
Words that enter your heart and
exit your body through the liquid love of your eyes,

Poetry is the blood that drips
From the wounds of brokenness
Poetry is fertilizer
From the shit show of life
Poetry is the forest that grows
From the fire of a burned heart
Poetry is the flower garden
That grows from the love of another

Poetry is art
Poetry is soft
Poetry is harsh
Poetry is funny
Poetry is sad
Poetry speaks all languages
Poetry reaches across
Man made borders
Drifting from the page and mouth
To the eyes and ears
Of those who open themselves
To receive what is offered

Poetry is the the language of the broken hearted
It’s the language of love, activism, advocacy
It’s the language of nature, soaked into our souls,
mixed with our experiences,
and released from our body through words.

Poetry is art
Poetry is pain
Poetry is love
Poetry is a path to sharing,
feeling and healing

Poetry is an unbreakable golden thread of sunshine
That connects us, binds us
And let’s us know we’re not alone

Poetry is home
Poetry is fast
Poetry is slow

Poetry is alive
The heartbeat of the human race
Thumping in tune with the passing of time slipping through our fingers
Poetry is magic
Poetry is witchy

Poetry is not in a hurry
Poetry lets it all go
Poetry is powerful

Poetry extracts the pain, the love,
the advocacy, the activism
From the mind, the heart, the mouth
Pouring and releasing it into the winds of time
To work it’s witchy magic
On all who read or hear it.

Poetry makes my heart beat faster
Poetry makes my lower stomach tingle
Poetry makes everything else melt away
Poetry is the absolute fucking best!

Camilla Downs 2024