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Sunday, April 05, 2020

April 5 NAPOWRIMO 20 Little Poetry Projects Black Rose

5th April
"Our (optional) prompt for today is one that we have used in past years, but which I love to come back to, because it so often takes me to new and unusual places, and results in fantastic poems. It’s called the “Twenty Little Poetry Projects,” and was originally developed by Jim Simmerman. The challenge is to use/do all of the following in the same poem. Of course, if you can’t fit all twenty projects into your poem, or a few of them get your poem going, that is just fine too!
Begin the poem with a metaphor.
Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
Use one example of synesthesia (mixing the senses).
Use the proper name of a person and the proper name of a place.
Contradict something you said earlier in the poem.
Change direction or digress from the last thing you said.
Use a word (slang?) you’ve never seen in a poem.
Use an example of false cause-effect logic.
Use a piece of talk you’ve actually heard (preferably in dialect and/or which you don’t understand).
Create a metaphor using the following construction: “The (adjective) (concrete noun) of (abstract noun) . . .”
Use an image in such a way as to reverse its usual associative qualities.
Make the persona or character in the poem do something he or she could not do in “real life.”
Refer to yourself by nickname and in the third person.
Write in the future tense, such that part of the poem seems to be a prediction.
Modify a noun with an unlikely adjective.
Make a declarative assertion that sounds convincing but that finally makes no sense.
Use a phrase from a language other than English.
Make a non-human object say or do something human (personification).
Close the poem with a vivid image that makes no statement, but that “echoes” an image from earlier in the poem."

Black Rose

Hate is a black rose (Metaphor)
All roses are black (Something specific but utterly preposterous)
The fragrance of jasmine (Olfactory image)
The feel of your nipples between my fingers, your accepting lips, and turned-away-at-first-cheek on my lips (Two or three tactile images)
The canny tinge of cardamom in our lovemaking (Gustatory image)
The black that excludes all blacks (Visual image)
The cacophony of the ghost's laugh in your chuckle (Auditory image)
The ventriloquism of the petals in their blossoming into the fullness (Synaesthesia)
Anamika, Bengaluru (Name, place)
Love is a black rose (Contradiction)
When my friend, the poet died (Digression)
Aveesh, that thrishooran* (Dialect for a person from Trichur)
If he hadn't died I wouldn't have loved (False cause-effect) 
If he hadn't died I wouldn't have become a poet (False cause-effect)
If he hadn't died hate would not be a black rose (False cause-effect)
Kakke, kakke, koodevide? Róisín Dubh (dialect meaning crow, crow, where is your nest in Malayalam and black rose in Irish)
Is a red love the obverse of a hate rose? (Concrete metaphor turned inverse)
Black is black is black and nothing more or less or else (Image reversing its associative qualities)
Reader, I brought Aveesh back to life and had children by Anamika, thus betraying my wife (Doing the impossible)
That Kozhy* (Nickname for hen/cock in Malayalam), he (Third person) should be hung and quartered for such treasonous, adulterous thoughts
But what if he will resurrect, (Future tense)
The womanizing bard? (Adjective that is not normally used)
Then the black rose will unbloom (A declarative assertion that finally makes no sense)
IL MIGLIOR FABBRO (A phrase from a foreign language)
Old Possum's ghost still 'haints' us while the clock hammers out our dying life with a one and a two and a one or a two, relentlessly (Personification)
The petals, blackening, mayhap, in their un-demise ... (Refers back to an earlier image but is not a statement)




Black Rose (without explanation)

Hate is a black rose
All roses are black 
The fragrance of jasmine
The feel of your nipples between my fingers, your accepting lips and turned-away-at-first-cheek on my lips
The canny tinge of cardamom in our lovemaking
The black that excludes all blacks
The cacophony of the ghost's laugh in your chuckle 
The ventriloquism of the petals in their blossoming into fullness 
Anamika, Bengaluru 
Love is a black rose 
When my friend, the poet died
Aveesh, that thrishooran
If he hadn't died I wouldn't have loved 
If he hadn't died I wouldn't have become a poet 
If he hadn't died hate would not be a black rose 
Kakke, kakke, koodevide? Róisín Dubh 
Is a red love the obverse of a hate rose? 
Black is black is black and nothing more or less or else 
Reader, I brought Aveesh back to life and had children by Anamika, thus betraying my wife (
That Kozhy, he should be hung and quartered for such treasonous, adulterous thoughts
But what if he will resurrect, 
The womanizing bard? 
Then the black rose will unbloom 
IL MIGLIOR FABBRO 
Old Possum's ghost still 'haints' us while the clock hammers out our dying life with a one and a two and a one or a two, relentlessly 
The petals, blackening, mayhap, in their un-demise ... 





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