Day 15 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2022

Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “[W]rite a patience poem. Your poem could be about someone or something with great patience, or it could come from the other direction (ie, impatience).” Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about something you have absolutely no interest in. This isn’t quite the same, I think, as something you’re indifferent to. . . . This is honestly kind of funny, and I think this prompt has value precisely because it invites you to investigate some of the 'why' behind resolutely not giving two hoots about something.” Today, I offer two poems destined for my novel-in-poems on the mythical Philippine monster, the aswang. These may be the last poems I'm writing for the novel — at least, I've filled in the denouement of the story. Now I move to revision of the novel, though I am always open to more poems if they want to show up. The speaker of these two poems is Clara, a "reformed" aswang who is working in a Philippine rural area as a healer, in atonement for her monsterly life, and in search of some kind of salvation. Regarding the two prompts, the first of the poems mentions patience and the need for patience, in response to Brewer's prompt. Both poems are about folk healing, because my character Clara has become a folk healer, in fact, a shaman or babaylan, who serve the community as mediums to the spirit world. This is connected to Thorson's prompt because folk healing and faith healing practices are something I'm not a believer in, but which is of interest for the purpose of the novel. Both poems are curtal sonnets. Healer We finally settled in the small town of Bagumbahay — “new house” — in Capiz. Word spread that a new herbalist was here, and every day, for years, people would line up outside in our street, seeking release from illness beyond their doctors’ power. Hour upon hour: massage, poultice with herbs and oils, advice on how to ease their pain. Crushing work . . . times I would despair, then ask the sky spirits for calm, patience.                                                     Send me a healer! —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] This second poem is a response to Clara's prayerful plea in the first poem. The word hilot refers to Philippine traditional healing and a manghihilot is a healer trained in those techniques; a barangay is a Philippine village or district, formerly called a barrio. Teacher After years of backbreaking work, I found Josefa, a manghihilot nearby, two barangays away, a miracle worker, people said. So I sent word, and Josefa agreed to meet with me. I learned I needed not just medicinal health but also supernatural help. She taught me to treat ailments simply by touch, to use new plants with rare medical effects, and how to heal my broken self                                         through the spirit world. —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]             Illustration from HFI. Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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Day 14 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2022

Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “Today’s challenge is a fun one: write a poem that takes the form of the opening scene of the movie of your life. Does it open with a car chase? A musical number? A long scene panning across a verdant plain?” Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “[W]rite a scary poem. Your poem could invoke monsters, release spiders, or tremble at the mystery of the night. It could contemplate taxes or the prospect of public speaking. And don't forget the dread of the blank page.” Today I'm merging the prompts by cheating on the movie scene: I'm cinematizing not my own life but someone else's: Dante Alighieri. On the off chance someone might not know what I'm referring to in today's poem, the opening lines of Dante's Divine Comedy are "Midway upon the journey of our life / I found myself within a forest dark, / For the straightforward pathway had been lost" (The Inferno, Canto I), as translated by Longfellow in 1867. Also, I'm using a form Robert Lee Brewer recently invented as a poetic game, the Wordy 30, which plays on the online word game Wordle that's currently an international viral craze. Opening Scene in a Dante Biopic ALONE WOODS CRAZY BURNT TREES SCARY —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Here's what this poem might look like in a Wordle-type matrix. I'm grateful today to my friend Bruce Niedt who wrote a Wordy poem yesterday for NaPoWriMo, introducing me to this fun new form. Thanks, Bruce. To end, an interesting coincidence: at the start of The Divine Comedy, the main character (Dante himself, fictionalized) gets lost in the woods on Maundy Thursday (Holy Thursday to Catholics). What's interesting? Today is Maundy Thursday! Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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Day 13 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2022

Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “For today’s prompt, take the phrase ‘How to (blank),’ replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: ‘How to Win at Life,’ ‘How to Cook Lasagna,’ ‘How to Fall in Love,’ and/or ‘How to Write a Poem.’” Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “Today, in honor of the potential luckiness of the number 13, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that, like the example poem here, joyfully states that ‘Everything is Going to Be Amazing.’” Fulfilling both prompts, today's poem is another episode in my novel-in-poems about Filipino aswang (mythical monsters). The speaker is Clara, a manananggal, whose body can split at the waist, grow wings from her shoulders, and fly in search of prey. Today, however, we see another kind of flying, brought on by Clara's fear that neighbors will discover she and her son are aswang. She is more afraid for her son's welfare than for her own. In the poem, "mga salamangkéro" and "mga albularyo" are Filipino for shamans or folk healers who perform white magic. The word "mga" (pronounced "mah-nga," where the ng sounds like the central consonant digraph in singer) indicates the plural. "Diwata" are spirits of many types, but in this case unbound spirits, i.e., not bound to a particular place or thing. How to Fly Outside Your Body —abecedarian Astral projection is what some call it. Buzz of the waking world swirling like a cyclone, hurricane, slows to a crawl, then dissipates. I’m not sleeping or dreaming exactly, but something like and not like, floating above my recumbent form, soft glissade, breeze whispering soft nothings, humming silent arias. Not at all like how I fly as aswang: no muscle pull of wings, just my whole body, legs too, translucent, keeping aloft without strain, just wafting, light as a dandelion seed, light as a ghost. my dear son Malcolm can’t follow me here. Nobody can, except maybe another healer, other mga salamangkéro, mga albularyo. Pellucid figures, mga diwata, surround me, questioning calmly why I’m here, in this room without walls, white clouds, bright sun, though minutes ago, it was midnight. The spirits hover and assuage my concerns, understanding my fear for Malcolm, my vitiating dread he will be unmasked, that he will be killed as aswang. They assure me, no execution will occur, all will be well. I wake: yellow light, warm sun. My tornado now a zephyr, quiet and gentle. I can live in hope. —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]             Image by Mint_Foto on Pixabay Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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Day 12 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2022

Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “Yesterday, I challenged you to write a poem about a very large thing. Today, I’d like you to invert your inspiration, and write a poem about a very small thing[, such as] an atom, a button, a hummingbird’s egg, dollhouse furniture, or the mythical world’s smallest violin.” Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “Here are the Two-for-Tuesday prompts:   1. Write a Counting poem, and/or...   2. Write a Not Counting poem.” Merging both prompts again with a kimo, like yesterday: an Israeli variant of the haiku, with 10/7/6 syllables. The Smallest Department Store Chain There are only three Kmarts left. Just three! Should we count? Let's not count. Soon maybe just one . . . then poof! —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]             "Big Kmart (closed)" by Ryan on Flickr Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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Day 11 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2022

Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about a very large thing. It could be a mountain or a blue whale or a skyscraper or a planet or the various contenders for the honor of being the Biggest Ball of Twine.” Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “[W]rite a power poem. Your poem could somehow involve electricity, solar power, fossil fuels, wind, or water. It could illustrate a power play or someone exerting their power over someone else. Of course, you could also write about a power outage.” Today, my poem merging the prompts is a kimo, an Israeli variant of the haiku, with this syllable pattern: 10-7-6. Out of the Mouths of Babes "On this map, Russia's large and powerful, a bear," said Timmy. "Ukraine's a mouse . . . that's just not fair!" —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Image by Aris Katsaris on Wikimedia. Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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