NaPoWriMo 2024: wrap-up post

I meant to do this yesterday, but the day got away from me—and now this one has, too, so I’ll try to keep fairly brief.

I’ve lost track of how many years in a row I’ve done NaPo; in 2021, I did something slightly different—writing a sonnet corona over the course of the month, rather than a full 30 poems—but I think that still counts. Maybe it’s just recency bias, but this and last year have felt particularly difficult, to me. I was dealing with somewhat stressful work situations both times, and I think last year in particular the process of doing NaPo really helped me to identify and work through those feelings and realise that I needed to quit my job (I ended up lasting until the beginning of August, but I was digging tunnels the whole time). Still, I seem to be finding it increasingly difficult to feel inspired. I’m wondering whether I need to take a year off, or maybe switch to doing monthly or weekly poetry challenges instead of concentrating it all in April and barely writing poetry at all for the rest of the year.

That said, when looking back over the month’s poems for my cento, there were a few I really liked—and would never have written if it hadn’t been for NaPo. My favourites of the month:

Day 6
Day 9
Day 20
Day 23

I also want to give honourable mentions to days 21 and 28; they’re not my favourites results-wise, but they were two of the most challenging to write.

So… I’ll give some thought as to whether I want to approach NaPo differently next year, or skip it entirely, or replace it with a different poetry practice. In the meantime, thanks for reading!

NaPoWriMo 2024: day 30

A cento today. I would usually try to use a line from each of this month’s poems, but I decided to opt for a result that I liked rather than completism this time. I’m actually tempted to cut it down even further, but I’ll stick with this for now.

Cento

April comes in like a cat, purring soft belly-up
And every year I feel that I have wasted every sunny day,
Groping, groping for sunlight
And always circling home.
Let us fly at least until we hit the ground.

This is my body, made of earth,
Only meant for me,
That slowly dissolves into the wide blue sky,
Keeping me afloat above the restless ground.
You sink or swim into the surf of time.

I like to think that I just slip into a world
Whose resemblance to me is almost incidental,
Nothing like my dreams.

A voice like thunder cracks right over me,
And all my wanderings led me back here.
I lead me home again, unrecognised
Just to belong to you.

NaPoWriMo 2024: day 29

Okay, once again I’m posting after midnight (for me), but once again I wrote this on the bus earlier in the day so I’m not in trouble AT ALL.

Can you believe April’s nearly over? I feel like my perception of time has been indefinitely fucked up, so my answer is “idk”.

Got an email today which asked me a lot of questions answered by my previous email. I guess I’m just writing these things for the good of my health because nobody is reading them. EMAILS, am I right?

I am a little tipsy if that wasn’t apparent.


Oh email me no more,
And do not expect an answer–
I am on a distant shore
Along the Tropic of Cancer.
I have run away forever
To live off ocean debris,
So, I beg, email me never
And if you do, may it not find me,
But if you have to correspond
Don’t set up a Zoom meeting.
I threw my laptop in a pond
To stop it overheating.
I’d much prefer a pigeon with a
Little rolled-up note,
And if that makes you dither
I’d as soon you never wrote.

NaPoWriMo 2024: day 28

Poetry Foundation’s poem of the day today was ‘Nightmare’ by Frank Chipasula. Since themes include language and colonisation, it got me thinking about Irish. I’ve been neglecting my Irish learning this year, because I felt like Duolingo was becoming a bit of an unhealthy compulsion, but I’d like to start learning again, probably using the free Dublin City University courses that are available on FutureLearn (I did a few of these a while back).

Anyway. Berlin recently banned chants in Irish and Hebrew at pro-Palestine protests, because nothing says “we’ve learned from our fascist past” like banning minority languages from public spaces because they are more difficult to monitor, am I right? I studied abroad for a year in Germany and totally bought into their whole memory culture schtick at the time, which I now realise was pure hypocrisy. So tonight I made another attempt at a poem in Irish. I’ve got rusty, and I was never very good, but I gave it a go.


Ní hí teanga mo thír dhúchais
Teanga trodach.
Éist leis na fuaimeanna clingeach,
Chomh séimh leis an fearthainn.
Ní shaorfaidh bhur chuimhní clúiteach sibh.

The tongue of my ancestral land
Is not a violent tongue.
Listen to the tinkling sounds,
As gentle as the rain.
Your vaunted memories will not absolve you.

NaPoWriMo 2024: day 27

Sometimes I use the ‘Random article’ function on Wikipedia to try and find inspiration for poems. This time I got the article for Walker-Hackensack-Akeley High School in Minnesota, and I just thought it would be very funny to write an ode to this high school. I wish I could have worked in more names of local lakes, because they’re wild.


O hail to thee, Walker-Hackensack-Akeley High School,
By the shores of Leech Lake;
In your Post Secondary Enrollment Options
How I long to partake.
O to be a National Forensic League Academic All-American,
And to play girls and boys basketball;
O to be in the concert band,
Or to perform in Seussical.
I hear that you’re phasing out German;
That seems like a wise thing to do—
I’d cross Lake Thirteen and all lakes in-between
Just to belong to you.
O WHA High School,
At the Shingobee Trail’s crest,
From Sucker Bay to your northeast
To Spider Lake at your southwest,
How I dream of your hallowed halls
On 302 4th Street,
But I’m not in Minnesota,
So I must accept defeat.