NaPoWriMo--DAY TWENTY ONE

NaPoWriMo PROMPT:  Find a poem in a language that you don’t know, and perform a “homophonic translation” on it. What does that mean? Well, it means to try to translate the poem simply based on how it sounds.

Here's my phonic translation of Heimliche Stunde by Joachim Ringelnatz--as far as I can tell it has something to do with ghostly dreams.

  

Choked and Stunned 

I’m inclined to skip church or die from dampness. 

Kind of a war against geezers. 

It’s a zoo for gibbon muttering. 

Come out, dash. Shoot back or get flogged. 

He’s going to bloomin’ blow my face off! 

Meet door songs with a squeak. 

Each labor’s got a mean fruit, 

Mean whining and mean ducks.

Here's the real poem in German

Heimliche Stunde

Ein kleiner Spuk durch due Dampfheizung ging.

Keine Uhr war aufgezogen.

Ein zu fruh geborener Schmetterling

Kam auf das Schachbrett geflogen.

Es ging ein Blumenvasenblau

Mit der Sonne wie eine Schnecke.

Ich liebe Gott und meine Frau,

Meine Wohnung und meine Decke.

NaPoWriMo--DAY TWENTY

NaPoWriMo PROMPT: Write a poem about a handmade or homemade gift that you have received.

Reminder 

Mom and Dad took a break 

From milking cows twice a day, 

Traveled with a tour group 

To see—what else? More cows. 

They brought back a souvenir. 

A brightly painted whirligig 

Created out of wood. 

A little black and white cow 

And a little farmer. 

They installed it on a fence post. 

When the wind blew 

The attached windmill turned. 

The farmer went into action milking his cow. 

Years later I found it on Dad’s workbench 

Broken. 

The Idaho wind had been unforgiving. 

Dad was gone and now so was Mom. 

The whirligig came home with me. 

We fixed the propeller blade, 

Cleaned it up and applied a new coat of paint. 

The farmer and the cow are retired now. 

They rest by my window 

Where they can catch 

An occasional breeze.

NaPoWriMo--DAY NINETEEN

NaPoWriMo PROMPT: write a poem based on a “walking archive.” What’s that? Well, it’s when you go on a walk and gather up interesting thing – a flower, a strange piece of bark, a rock. This then becomes your “walking archive” – the physical instantiation of your walk.

Shooting Birds--19 April 2020 

All winter long 

The usual birds 

Who never make the long trip south. 

When summer ends, when cold winds blow 

When rivers freeze

 Magpie 

Pigeon

Sparrow 

Crow

 And don’t forget the chickadees. 

They endure the months of snow. 

In March 

When winter starts to go 

We hear the doves 

Then

 Flickers 

Blackbirds 

And we know 

It’s spring when

 There are

 Robins.

 Robins overflow. 

Today 

Out on the lake

 I saw loons

 The hawks are back.

 Kingfishers too. 

Osprey 

Swallows

 Duck

 Duck

 Goose.

(all my photos--most taken today--19 March 2020)