Day fifteen – Major milestone today – halfway through our month. Hope you’ve been enjoying it as much as I have.

As of midnight, and between the four three PAD challenges ,  I have written  53 poems this month. No, they are not all keepers – but the majority are. Again – I find it a fun miracle where each prompt ends up taking me & my muse.

How about you? Please let me know!

Robert Lee Brewer’s AprPAD challenge prompt is one time.

NaPoWriMo’s featured participant today is Strangelander2015, who created three clerihews for Day 14. Today’s featured poet is Kaveh Akbar.

And their prompt for the day ia a challenge to write a poem that reflects on the nature of being in the middle of something.

As for my personal Poem A Day Challenge , today’s PAD is … two tongue depressers.

I spent Friday Night watching Peter Jackson’s The Hobbut trilogy. I fell in love with this story back in third grade when my class first read it. As a reward, we went to see the animated version (when it was first released) in the theater. Interesting trivia – I can do an amazing Gollum voice and knew all his lines for many years. It was a cozy night; both of my brothers were here (the one recuperating at my place & the one I sent home last month) and we just hung out.

I must say this story has always affected me. A big part because it was of a “halfling” being a major character. I’m 4’9″, I was even shorter than that in third grade and convinced by family that my fate was just to be a nobody and spend my life only taking care of others. The thought of being important in any way? Epiphany! It taught me that it didn’t matter what you were – your actions define who you are.

Since then, I try to be “heroic”; kind, protective, determined. I’m a hobbit – or so I tell myself. My idols have been women who are heroes – Princess Leia, Wonder Woman, Xena, even Gabrielle! Now they are Margaret Atwood, Elizabeth Warren.

No, I’m not a warrior with fists or with weapons (except knives, I’m good at throwing knives!). But I like to think that I am a warrior with words. And if a situation requires bodies to show solidarity, I show up – police with riot gear be damned.

I’m happy to say many of my friends do as well. Yes, they too are determined heroes. Especially the writers & the poets.

It’s why I write out against abuse or injustice. Perhaps this is why my muse insists on writing current events into poetry lately – even when it means writing that name I detest. Even a small hobbit can take down a dragon. Or an evil necromancer.

It also, on dark frustrating days, how I generate hope within myself. Days may get dark – but I’m still in the middle of my story – it’s not the end yet. I just have to endure. I’m only half-way through. As The Doctor says “Half-way out of the Dark”.

Of course – I have to survive the climax first …

Short announcement:

I am starting to market myself as a “writer for hire”.  It seems the natural way for my career to develop. As such – Thursday I have set up an online portfolio, Ariel writes … , as a spot for my non-poetry writings i.e. essays, articles, profils, reviews, short stories.  I only started setting it up Thursday, but I hae updated four postings already to it. Check it out …


Todays shared poem comes from Day 3 AprPAD prompt (blank for love).

thorns for love

you walk though a blackberry patch every day,
brave those mammalian claws in order to move forward.
as do i, even as i carve out a path towards you
my path carves me, cuts – will heal into yet more unseen scars.

i do not regret these scars, much as i begrudge them;
i’ll rather have the scars and the possible fruit,
have my many attempts at loving you aborted
than allow those thorns to multiply by inaction,
by self-imposed failure. i musn’t give up

i already learned there are no safe places;
every space is now overgrown with years-old vines,
their leaves dark green, thorns as solid as enamel.
yours is the only direction worth the battle, worth the blood.

that’s what girds me at the end of the day
as i lay on downed arms, soften my muscles around the bites;
you may have given up, your machete leading you a different goal –
but we only become impossible if i do too.

Image courtesy of Daytona Beach Poetry Festival.