NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 7

Seven Word Poem by Mimi DiFrancesca


Untitled 7 by Larry Mawby

inhale, exhale

inhale, exhale

repeat always

inhale, inspiration

exhale, exultation

natural as breath

inspiration, exultation

inspiration, exultation

repeat always


Wednesday by Cherry K Kowitz

Wednesday is when my world comes home

When I feel whole again

Wednesday’s like a breath of fresh air

When my name is Papa again


NaPoWriMo2021 Day 6

Untitled 6 by Larry Mawby

shadowless day

& the iron crow

seems bemused.

how, you may ask,

does an iron crow

express emotion?

i think it understands

me, and somehow

mimics my thoughts.

he appears to agree

and now seems

uncomfortably constrained

as though this moment

has gone on too long.

i agree & i look away.


Chicken Coop Poop by Cherry K Kowitz

We rebuilt the chicken coop

So maybe we wouldn’t hear the roosters crowing

So close to the house

But that hasn’t stopped me from waking up too early

To find Great Pyrenees poop left graciously

For me to enjoy cleaning off the living room floor

His ears pinned back while he watches me mop


My Day by Mimi DiFrancesca

NaPoWriMo2021 Day 4

Easter Egg Hunts by Cherry K Kowitz

Easter Egg Hunts

Oh the bright eyed child

That was once in each of us

That could believe in something

Like a magic bunny

That brought eggs and candy

And sometime after you went to bed

Hid them around the yard

And your pal so graciously

Placed a basket full of fun and yummy things

On the kitchen counter for you to find

And you knew it was your parents

But you pretended there was a bunny to make them happy

And when you hide the eggs maybe after you realize and remember this

Maybe you will cry because you are so happy


Break Out by Silvia Smoglian Gans

Break Out

I spend so much time

Inside my head

Sometimes it’s hard to

Break out.

So for today

I’ll stay right there

Until I can find the way out.


untitled 4 by Larry Mawby

yesterday sunlight softly

pierced the eye of my heart,

and laughter leaked out.

it scabbed over.


Reverence by Mimi DiFrancesca

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 3

Untitled 3 by Larry Mawby

i am all kerfluffeled

the world is not right.

the sun shines,

sky is blue, but

everything feels wrogn

the metal crow

in the tree outside my window

seems to be laughing today.

i pause and now

i, too, am laughing,

though sardonically.

kerfluffeled? bah.


Duck Eggs by Cherry K Kowitz

Duck eggs

White round beak waddles

A glorious golden day

Sunshines in my eye


Straight Lines by Silvia Smoglian Gans

Straight lines

There are no straight lines in nature

It grows organically

Lines were created to take control

By humanity. We have fence lines

That keep people and animals

Out or in

Train lines


Subway lines

Cruise lines

To transport people

Where we want them to go.

We have assembly lines

Movie lines

Bread lines

Bank lines

To keep everyone in their place.

How would we communicate

Music without the lines of a staff

Or thoughts and ideas if words were

Haphazardly thrown on a page

What an absurd play

If actors didn’t know their lines.

We try to put nature in line

With cherry trees and grapevines

Christmas tree and lumber farms

Irrigation lines.

We even use “as the crow flies”

To denote a straight line.

Our mind puts things in lines

Where there are none

North America directly on top

Of South.

Long ago armies marched in lines

Off to battle

To be picked off by those who

Didn’t follow those rules

And now we have enemy lines

Like the DMZ

Maybe if we all started thinking

In circles instead,

There would be no first nor last.


For Noah by Mimi DiFrancesca

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NaPoWriMo April 2, 2021

This post will catch us up to today with our second offering for National Poetry Writing Month.

From our Leelanau area poets…


Counting by Silvia Smoglian Gans

2 bits

4 bits

13 steps

9 gulps

100 jumps on Luna’s trampoline

66 seconds of microwave time

6 minutes for the French press

After 6 seconds grinding

Times 3

Counting pills by fives and tens

Singing triplets by feeling beats

Number of likes, why care?

Everything beats to its own rhythm

Counting helps discover why

Numbers appear everywhere and nowhere

At the same time

And take up residence in my mind.

8 in China

13 is it lucky or not

Number 9, Number 9

17 year cicadas

1200 years since such early Cherry blossom blooms



Trusting numbers

Fractions and %

The reliability of significant numbers

Never stop counting

To prove I’m here

When I stop counting

I, stop.


Seasonal Greetings by Cherry K Kowitz

Soon they will come

The smiling , drunken hordes of downstaters

The motorcycle brigades and the boat bros

The hot days and the biting insect Air Force

Soon there will be more contracts than contractors

And some poor homeowners will pull short

On the straw of hired workmen

Their bathroom project left half finished

Soon our one lane roads become head on raceways

Plates from every Midwest state

Marveling at the blue jewel

Randomly braking for road signs

Soon they will come

To burst the illusion of a quiet place to live


Untitled 2 by Larry Mawby

sun on naked trees

cuts sharp shadows

into brown leaves

onto white crocus


Verbiage Distillation #02 by Mimi DiFrancesca

NaPoWriMo 2021 Here we go…

I’m posting poems from those who have joined our site to add to the worldwide NaPoWriMo and GloPoWriMo (GlobalPoetryWritingMonth) challenges;

Backtracking to yesterday- on April 01, 2021

Slow White Rain by Larry Mawby

slow white rain

a morning of slow white rain

falling from mottled

grey black skies

making slick shiny

pavements tree bark & grass this sunday

of late march

slowly washing

the old cherry lugs

we put out in the yard yesterday cleaning them

of the mice droppings

left from decades in the

barn unused now destined

for the historical society

to display a bit of

local past our fathers

slow white rain falling

upon this place


Melting Snow by Cherry K Kowitz

The snow melts from my yard like an old friend saying goodbye.

Uncovering the past, the mottled leaves and broken grass.

The bits of green garden hose chewed up and left in the yard to be forgotten over winter.

It’s hard to think about all the layers in ones life.

Every season sandwiched between the folds of our memories.

Soon the grass will grow tall and cover all the scars left behind over the years.

Still grass never grows tall enough to disguise the scars on a heart.

Like deep ravines running through an ancient valley.

You can see the pathways of a lifetime flowing over a beings face.

Time dragging lines deeper and deeper.

Until the lines on a face resemble mountains

And the breath of a being becomes the ocean tide.


Verbiage/ Distillation Poem #01 by Mimi DiFrancesca

Without Him by Silvia Smoglian Gans

There’s a crack in her heart

Where his blood used to flow

It all happened so fast

How could she possibly know?

Without his life force

Coursing through her soul

All she’s left with

Are their memories to console.


Writing Better Poetry

I am in a discussion with a friend who says she has never written poetry in her life but she’s going to begin now. Go Silvia! That’s the spirit!

The best advice I’ve ever heard about becoming a better writer is this: To write better, read more.

This holds true for any kind of writing. Read and read and read some more. What’s going to happen is that you’ll start your very own *Three Pile System* to sort the writing you are ingesting.

Pile #1 Stuff to be ignored. This pile may be golden fleece to some, but to you, it just doesn’t vibrate as something of great value. It’s the Universe telling you to “Let it go, Elsa.” Move along…

Pile #2 Interesting bits to contemplate. Like crows are drawn to shiny objects, poets/writers are highly attracted to clever turns of phrases and memorable descriptors. These are the bits and bobs we tuck away to use as future inspiration for our own word crafting.

Pile #3 Ecstatic Revelations. These are those magical pieces that bring the tears, the clenching of the heart muscle, the gazing off in the distance while your mind rolls the words around again and you marvel at the poets deft hand in its creation.

Super long story short- Your collection in Pile #3 are the styles of writing that best suit you. This is the native language of your internal country. And if you grab a pen and start journaling your thoughts that way, your true writer’s voice will begin to emerge.

I know now that every time I tried to write something in a stuffy (to me) iambic pentameter or adhering to hard and fast rules about format, what emerged was garbage, because it just wasn’t my style of writing. You need to find your Poetry Hero out in the wide world and read everything they wrote. Then find a few others who write in the same style and study them as well. And then grab than blank paper and let your own words fly.

My style is closer to how I speak; free form and spiced with images that make some people uncomfortable, others intrigued and still others, humored. It’s my own truth.

Now, you need to go find your own truth and say hello. Then drag that person out so we can meet them as well.

“The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.” – Emily Dickinson

Some of my personal Poetry Heroes, long gone and contemporary…

Nikita Gill-

Mary Oliver-

Charles Bukowski-

Hafiz, especially the Daniel Ladinsky translations found in The Gift, a 1999 publication available through Penguin Compass.

By the way, Hafiz said that a poet is someone who can pour light into a cup.

Yeah, he was my spirit animal.

Send an email with your own writing advice or your favorite poets and I’ll share it here!