National Poetry Writing Month Day 22

Create Art Podcast

What is National Poetry Writing Month?

Welcome, art enthusiasts and wordsmiths alike, to another episode of Create Art Podcast! We are diving headfirst into the enchanting world of poetry as we celebrate National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). This annual event, which takes place every April, encourages poets and aspiring writers around the globe to embrace their creativity and commit to writing a poem each day for the entire month.

The Beauty of National Poetry Writing Month:

NaPoWriMo, similar to its prose-centric counterpart National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), is a celebration of the written word and the boundless creativity that can flow when one dedicates themselves to a daily practice. Poets of all levels of expertise are invited to take part, from seasoned wordsmiths to those just dipping their toes into the vast ocean of verse.

Create Art Podcast has always been a haven for artists to share their creative processes, and NaPoWriMo offers a unique opportunity for poets to reflect on their craft. With a daily commitment to producing poetry, participants discover new facets of their writing style, experiment with various forms, and explore uncharted emotional territories.

Prompt for today

Last but not least, here’s today’s optional prompt. This one comes from the poet and fiction writer Todd Dillard, who provided this idea on his twitter account a few months ago. The idea is to write a poem in which two things have a fight. Two very unlikely things, if you can manage it. Like, maybe a comb and a spatula. Or a daffodil and a bag of potato chips. Or perhaps your two things could be linked somehow – like a rock and a hard place – and be utterly sick of being so joined. The possibilities are endless!

Poem for Today

Two Sides Same Coin

22 April 24

The coffee-stained steno note pad decided one day to crawl from under the dust of neglect and seek out the cell phone

Its wire binding was loose and its companion the bic pen had been lost after never coming back from getting cigarettes

The pad of paper felt neglected, its blue lines fading

Where once my innermost thoughts filled its pages

Now were curling up unused and unwanted

The pad scrapped along the floor

Leaving a scratch in the flooring

And it saw the endless stairs up to my room

Sighed deeply and found a way to the top by standing on end and grasping for the next step

My cell phone was communicating and noting my breaths and snores as I slept

Plugged in and cared for like a king

It slept just a mere foot from the bed

Unaware of what was coming up from the basement

The blue light and the life-giving electricity flowing through its circuits

Years ago, I had abandoned one of my oldest friends

And determined that due to low light

And spilled drinks

And the fact that i couldn’t see the words I had inscribed

I would switch to reading my poetry off my phone as I had seen younger poets do

It was easier to flip through apps on a phone

Versus flipping through pages of steno note pads

Sometimes I would bring the wrong one

Other times due to clumsiness I would spill my coffee and the liquid would seep into the pages

Low light at most readings made it impossible to see

The steno climbed the last stair

And made its way into the bedroom

Sighing again, it saw me peacefully asleep

Dreaming of the next poem I was to write

And finally save the dark-haired barista

And live my gothic fantasy

The steno pad had one final climb to make

And that was to the top of the altar that the cell phone called home

When suddenly my sleeping body turned over and my arm knocked the phone to the floor

The steno saw their opportunity and sprang into action

Stabbing the cell phone with the wire binding in various spots

Trying to hit the reset hole or short out the circuit board

The phone laid on the ground, a chip had fallen out of the side

With no way to defend itself it laid there

Taking the stabbing attacks without a murmur

The steno pad found the right hole that would erase the cell phones memory

And thrust itself deep

Only to find that when it did, the electricity that gave life to the cell phone

Traveled through the wire to the page and lit it aflame

The fire caught onto the blanket and the wooden bed frame

And the three of us perished that night

As the words were lost

And my dreams of saving this world were dashed

By the jealousy of a steno pad

And the convivence of the cell phone light

Reach Out To The Podcast

To reach out to me, email [e-mail] I would love to hear about your journey and what you are working on. If you would like to be on the show or have me discuss a topic that is giving you trouble write in and let's start that conversation.

• Email: [e-mail]
• YouTube Channel: Create Art Podcast YT Channel
• IG: @createartpodcast
• Twitter: @createartpod

Create Art Podcast Newsletter

timothybrien.substack.com

Special Message

If you have found value in this podcast, please share it with a friend as that is the best way to discover new podcasts. I want this to be a 5-star podcast in your eyes so let me know what you would like to see.

Speaking about sharing with a friend, check out my other podcast Find A Podcast About where I help you outsmart the algorithm and find your next binge-worthy podcast. You can find that podcast at findapodcastabout.xyz.

I am trying to utilize YouTube more, so make sure to check out my YouTube Channel to see me doing the episodes right in front of you.