Day-7
NaPoWriMo-2025
I cannot have the grace
Like a tender evening
The beautiful, magical face
Sliding through the horizon.
How I wish the palette
Could be my soul
Colorfully embossed
In the waning evening.
A burst of myriad hues,
A kaleidoscopic dream
Gliding through the dreaminess
I cannot be like that reflection.
I cannot fit into the time frame
Nor punctual to be routine
I am reckless, free-spirited
No clock can harness my journey.
Alas!
There are too many dark shadows
In the crevices of thy existence, lady!
Stop dreaming of being different.
Prompt: Finally, here’s our prompt for the day – as always, optional. A few days ago, we looked at Frank O’Hara’s poem in which he explained why he was not a painter. Jane Yeh’s “Why I Am Not a Sculpture” has a similar sense of playfulness, as she both compares herself to a sculpture and uses a series of rather silly and elaborate similes, along with references to dubious historical “facts.” Today, we challenge you to write a similar kind of self-portrait poem, in which you explain why you are not a particular piece of art (a symphony, a figurine, a ballet, a sonnet), use at least one outlandish comparison, and a strange (and maybe not actually real) fact.
Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2025
I do love sunsets, and you found yourself a stunning one there in Door County! Love that palette - soul! And we can keep dreaming, can't we?
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