My Daughter

For Day 21 of NaPoWriMo I decided to write another kenning poem. 

My Daughter

Book reader
Dragon rider
Ghost buster
Under-blanket hider

Roller skater
Bird chaser
Tantrum thrower
Everything racer

Pony lover
Story writer
Puzzle solver
Nail biter

Answer seeker
Dress wearer
Joke teller
Toy sharer

Always wants to be tickled
My daughter

My Son

For Day 20 of NaPoWriMo, we were prompted to write a kenning poem.

My Son

Bottomless eater
Shirt biter
Bottle refuser
Nap fighter

Breast lover
Night waker
Table smacker
Eardrum breaker

Hair puller
Crib thumper
Floor wiggler
Toy dumper

Bath splasher
Smile flasher
Pterodactyl shrieker
Attention seeker

Full of laughter
My son

It's a Little Cheeseburger

For Day 19 of NaPoWriMo, the prompt asked us to write a “how to” poem. I wrote a poem on how to get your young child to eat steak.

It's a Little Cheeseburger

We're tired of chicken nuggets.
I don't want mac and cheese.
Let's do something different.
How about a juicy steak, please?
We'll eat it with broccoli and potatoes.
You'll try at least one of those.

Daddy starts making our dinner;
delicious smells waft to my nose.
Finally, we place the meal before you,
and sit down to eat our food.
You look at the steak on your plate
and with a huff of attitude,
you declare that you don't want it,
but you agree to eat the broccoli.
You like the way the veggie looks
because it reminds you of a tree.

You eat all of your broccoli,
then you look at your potatoes.
Daddy asks you to try it,
but you just wrinkle your nose.
"Try it, and you might like it!"
I sing a little song,
hoping music from your favorite show
will convince you to go along.
You try it after a minute of cajoling
and Daddy agrees to feed you with a spoon,
but a few bites later you push it away.
Your meal has ended way too soon.

So we try to get you to eat the steak
with silly songs and promises of dessert.
We offer to feed you little bites,
but still your head remains avert.
"It's a little cheeseburger,"
Daddy finally says to you.
You look at him and smile,
and then what do you do?
You open your mouth for a bite.
You chew and swallow the steak.
Then once you eat it all,
you immediately ask for cake.

So if you want your child
to eat a juicy steak,
tell her it's a little cheeseburger.
You might save yourself a headache.

Schuylkill County Childhood

I followed the prompt for Day 18 of NaPoWriMo to write a poem that involves “the sound of home.”

Schuylkill County Childhood

I live so far from my childhood home.
I miss the taste of sweet sauce pizza
on the days we could afford to buy it.
I miss the crisp Ellios pizza baking
in the oven on any other normal day.

I miss the delicious taste of WaWa

lemonade iced tea, though my brother

would tell you he'd much prefer Guers,

and the crinkle of a bag of Snyder's

BBQ chips or the delicious flavor

of the chocolate peanut butter Tastycake.

I remember walking through the woods

and exploring abandoned coal mines

(or just the cold entrances, in my case)

until boards blocked them off for safety.

I remember treading the path of many

before me and walking across the ruins

of what I imagined to be a castle from long ago.

I remember riding on my stepfather's quad

next to the crick and through the trees,

up tall hills of tiny rocks, some so tall

that the quad would strain to reach the top.

I played outside in the leaves and the snow,

in the rocks and the grass, no parent in sight.

We'd walk to the candy shop and use

our pennies to buy little candies.

In the summer, we'd run up the path

leading to the next town, wearing our

circle medals on our bracelets, eagerly

waiting to go swimming in the pool.

Sometimes Mom would buy us a soda

or drive to Rita's for an Italian Ice.

Now I've grown up, and I've moved away,

but I'll always be a Coal Cracker.

I'll ask for dippy eggs and pierogies.

Sometimes I'll say youze and bolth.

I'll forever remember block parties

and coal candy and riding on the Phoenix

rollercoaster or the Sklooosh at Knoebels.

I can pronounce Mahanoy, Shenandoah,

and Nesquehoning, and I've seen the

abandoned coal town of Centralia.

These are the places I knew as a child,

These are the memories I'll hold 'til I'm old.

NaPoWriMo Day 17

A little hand, sticky
and speckled with the crumbs
of cinnamon maple crunchies,
reaches to touch my face,
and I let him. I kiss his tiny
fingers and put my forehead to his.
He touches my cheek and
chuckles every time I lean
my head closer, looking
into his brown eyes. He smiles
when I smile. I laugh when
he laughs. He screeches
and I give him another crunchy.

In the Dark of the Night

For Day 16 of NaPoWriMo, I chose to do a blackout poem. I picked page 708 from the story The Last Battle in the book The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. 

I then picked words from the page I wanted to use for my poem and blacked out the rest of the page I didn't need.

This is how I would write and format my poem:

In the Dark of the Night

The darkness is silent,

still,

and sad

with no comfort.

Nothing.

Stop and listen.

Thump-thump.

Slap!

It was the coldest hour of the night.

Mirrored Image

For Day 15 of NaPoWriMo, we were prompted to write a poem involving doubles. I decided to incorporate that theme into my poem by writing about a girl looking into a mirror.

Mirrored Image

I look at her in the mirror:
Her hair is long and brown.
Her eyes are wide with long lashes.
Her lips are pink and full.
Her stomach is lumpy.
Her sides have a lot of pudge.
Her thighs are wide.
Her legs are long and strong.
Her feet are rough and cracked.
Her body is dimpled with dots.
Her body is flawed.
She is beautiful.
She is me.