Day 17: a phonetic translation?

Today we are writing translation poems as described on the NaPoWriMo blog. This is a bit of an odd one, which ended up like this:

Skullhammer

Haggard ones of Burville

with laudanum wit, even a Sultan goers numb

a summer of heavy guitar

and here are hired diners

Hands on a fast-held din, a seat

of gothic add-ons, after

instinct; you, I, everyone is lost.

A whore’s karma stands, a rapier left behind

I, vegetarian continuum

once of an old spy tower

Little Skullhammer, I eventually tire of you

of life, of her

amid prattle and common laughter

up, I walk

and become blind.

___________________________________________

So, this weirdness was based on this poem, the real translation is below. I was really pleased to read the translation and find that I particularly liked this poem.

NORÐUR

Hægt eins og búrhveli

líðum við gegnum sortann

sem er hvítur

hér á heiðinni

Hann er fastheldinn á sitt

og gefur aðeins eftir

eina stiku í einu

Örskamma stund leiftra þær

í vegarkantinum

eins og eldspýtur

litlu stúlkunnar í ævintýrinu

og lýsa okkur

þar til við komum aftur

upp í vök

að blása

North

Slow as sperm whales

we glide through the gloom

which is white

here on the heath

It holds fast to its own

conceding only

one post at a time

For an instant they flash

on the side of the road

like the little girl’s matches

in the fairytale

lighting us

until we return

to the hole in the ice

to breathe

Day 16: pantun

Today's prompt from the NaPoWriMo blog was to write a pantun which is a traditional Malay form of rhymed a-b-a-b quatrains of eight to twelve syllables per line. Traditionally, the the images of the first two lines and the second two lines may be metaphorically linked but generally not logically. In keeping with my issues with both rhyming and structured poetry, I had a bit of trouble with this one. The page before me has three lines scribbled out then another two, one, one, one and two lines... all furiously scribbled over before I finally came up with the following:

The Wake

Midday sun my shadow shrinking

Light upon the water hurts my eyes.

Holding up the bar, the men are drinking

Suburban pub under suburban skies.

__________________________________________

Don't forget to go here and join in the Poetry Giveaway.

Day 15: a different voice

The prompt for today's poetry was to write in a distinctive voice, like the voice of a well-known character. Instead I thought about voice and wrote about voices...

Voices

If I had a choice

I would raise my voice above

the babble of everyday

where children play in the rubble.

There is a whisper inside

my head; it denies all that others

have said and the chant

echoes in the dank cavern of my mind.

I thought I heard

a voice; loud but sweet

singing in the street below

the window I had opened

for the warm wind blowing from

the northern desert plains

to clear the room of memories

of you, our love, my aching womb.

___________________________________________

Don't forget to enter the Poetry Giveaway by going here & leaving a comment.

Day 14: take a hike

Today NaPoWriMo's prompt asks us to take a walk and make some notes on what we see. I'm not particularly ambulatory at the moment after damaging my ankle so I took an imaginary, memory-based walk around our property.

After rain

In the morning we wake

to the sound of water

running into the tank

although we did not hear the rain

and I know the ants

will be busily frantic

around their landscaped holes

each one a small but terrifying

force of nature,

kangaroos will find

new shoots that have

sprung up like a magician’s

bouquet in the time

it took for the rain to soak in,

there will be divots in the dust

of the driveway but it will

still be dusty,

the swallows will take the

opportunity of damp earth

to resume construction of their

mud bowl nests

under the front verandah

where we will knock them

down, discouraging their site selection

and loudly

suggesting other perfectly

suitable places for swallows

to raise a family,

the colours under the grey sky

will be darker and deeper

than when they are washed

out by the full sun and we will

drink coffee and wonder

how many millimetres we got.

I open my eyes and stretch.