Happy Saturday !

Today is the start of 30 poems in 30 days !!

National poetry writing month in April. 30 poems in 30 days. Have a look. http://www.napowrimo.net/about/ for more information.

Here is a breakdown

How do I participate in NaPoWriMo?

Easy! Just write a poem a day for the month of April. You can post them on the internet. You can hide them in a notebook. You can make up a special book just for yourself out of them. Really, all you need to do is write a poem a day for the month of April.

If you choose to post your work on the internet, you can submit your website for inclusion in our online roster of participants. See the “Submit Your Site” link above.

Can I participate in NaPoWriMo if I don’t have a website?

Sure! Nothing about writing 30 poems requires you to have a website. However, for purposes of the NaPoWriMo.net website, we are unable to list participants that do not have websites. The focus of this site is on providing interested people with links to websites where they can read NaPoWriMoers’ efforts.

I would like to participate, and to post my work online, but don’t have a website. Can you help me?

If you don’t have a website, and would like one, sites like Tumblr, Blogger, Weebly, and WordPress offer free blog services with easy-to-use templates. You can go from nothing to having your own blog (and posting your poems) in ten minutes or less. You can also post your poems elsewhere — to your Facebook page, for example!

Should I resubmit my website each day, linking specifically to each day’s poem?

No, that’s not necessary. The participant’s list is meant to be just that — a list of the participants, and not a list of all the poems written. You just need to submit the URL for your main site once. However, if you’d like to share your daily work with others, there are some great ways to do that! For example, you can share day-specific links in the comments to each day’s post on the NaPoWriMo homepage. You could also post your individual poems on Facebook, link to them via twitter, etc!

Can I organize a NaPoWriMo group at my local library, school, etc.? How do I do that?

There is no licensing process or fee for NaPoWriMo. If you want to organize a group to participate, that’s great! If you set up a website for your group, you can submit it to be listed on this site.

Are there prizes or money available for doing this?

Anyone who participates in NaPoWriMo is eligible for the prize of having written 30 new poems. There is also the awesome feeling of a job well done! But as for $$$, not so much.

I know someone who is posting poems for NaPoWriMo on his or her website, but you don’t have the site listed. Why not?

Probably because they haven’t submitted it. Anyone who wants to submit their site may, but we do not go out looking for people who might be writing a poem a day for April, and listing their sites in the absence of a submission. Individual NaPoWriMoers may not want their sites listed, or perhaps they just don’t know about this site. Go ahead and let them know, and they can decide whether they want their site included here.

Do I have to use your prompts?

Nope! The prompts we post each day are totally optional. Use ‘em if you like ‘em; ignore ‘em if you don’t.

So to kick us off !!!

Here's a poem from Susan McCartney .....a voice of love turned sour ?

TASTE IN MY MOUTH

The taste in my mouth is sweet

Words dipped with honey

Brush our lips

Dance in the air

Like spun sugar

The taste in my mouth is saccharine

Words, candy-coated, found false

Sully the mouth

Droop in the air

Synthetic imitations of love

The taste in my mouth is sour

Words like acid

Burn and seer

Like vicious claws

Drawing blood

The taste in my mouth is bitter

Words like ashes

Choke and gag

Brittle, dead, done

Like your love

Great stuff !!

So that's number 1

29 to go !

This blog, for the next 30 days is linked to the site -

 

So if you'd like to submit your work, and be read by a wider audience, please do via the contact button or email me at - neville.raper@gmail.com

Have a go !

Friday Feeling !!

Today's guest is our American friend Alice O'Donnell.
Alice is dyslexic, this autobiographical story tells us
what it feels like to suffer from this condition.

The Growing Years

The doors of the school swallowed up my tiny body, I froze as if I was going into a trap. So many times people have tried to trap me with words and puzzles; so many words. I would sit quietly and hope nobody notices me. Please, don’t notice me. My mother walked beside me and I try to hide behind her full flowing skirt but don’t feel comforted. She will tell them to make me study, she is against me too. Why don’t they understand how hard it is for me?

As I enter the room there are numbers and words, letters and faces. The faces that will end up judging me in the end. Laugh and jeer at me later as I twist my words. How can I stop it from happening? I wish I were somewhere else and not in this huge room that scares me so.

Years go by I walk down the daunting hall of Junior High. There have been no answers as to why I am who I am. I just sit and cry. Most of the kids that I grew up with are here. Years of jeers and laughter weighing down on me. I sit in the back of the room and hope no one notices that I’m there.

It was the day I had to stand in front of the class and speak: My history presentation. It was the day and my name was called. I walk through the aisles to the front of the class. I try to make myself small, insignificant. I want to get past this quickly.  My face rises red through body heat. My project chart shakes in my hands.

I am an academic, social and emotional failure. In my inability to hold a conversation. I twist my words and phrases to the point of mutilation. I look away from all of them; make eye contact, that is what they tell us to do but I can’t. Trying harder will not help. I get frustrated and aggressive and antisocial behaviour results from these tensions. But I can’t blame myself. Don’t hate myself. Don’t fight myself. Don’t strike out.

I drop my chart and begin to shake again. I look at the door and feel trapped. Can I make it to the door without anyone stopping me? Another girl shakes her head and asks the teacher if we can get on with it.

I want to take control and tell people.  I want to communicate, if only they can be patient with me. I have something to say. It’s not my fault. The words jump off the page, it’s not my fault. My hand moves around the paper searching for the words. The words change on you and go blurry. It’s just not my fault

And to the one teacher that passed back my history grade and told me in front of the class, marry well in response to my grade for the presentation. I say, it didn’t kill me and it did make me stronger.

Alice O’Donnell

Thank you Alice - A beautiful heartfelt piece,,,,,,

Interesting Facts About Dyslexia -

1. Dyslexia is the most common learning disability. Individuals with this medical condition have difficulty in the areas of language processing
2. 1 in 5 people suffer from dyslexia.
3. About 70 to 85% of children who are placed in special education for learning disabilities are dyslexic.
4. Dyslexia does not reflect an overall defect in language, but a localized weakness within the phonologic module of the brain (where sounds of language are put together to form words or break words down into sounds).
5. People with dyslexia are usually more creative and have a higher level of intelligence.
6. Those with dyslexia use only the right side of the brain to process language, while non-dyslexics use three areas on the left side of the brain to process language.
7. Children have a 50% chance of having dyslexia if one parent has it. And a 100% chance if both parents have it.
8. Dyslexia ranges from mild to severe. Around 40% of people with dyslexia also have ADHD. And those with dyslexia use about 5 times more energy to complete mental tasks.
9. Dyslexia is not a disease so there is no cure. It’s a learning disability that includes difficulty in the use/processing of linguistic and symbolic codes, alphabetic letters representing speech sounds or number and quantities.
10. Dyslexics do not “see” words backwards. The “b-d” letter reversal for example is mainly caused by deficits in interpreting left and right.

If you have any work you would like showcasing please

send via the contact tab or email directly at :-

neville.raper@gmail.com

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Thursday Thriller !

This piece of Flash Fiction is from Sharon Shields :-

Lightening flashed across the room.  He awoke with a start, blinking in the semi-darkness.  The figure in the bed had not moved, oblivious to the storm raging outside.  He sighed and reached out to touch her cheek.  It was cold.  He jumped, his heart racing.  Had she gone?  He touched her arm, icy and stiff despite his warm touch. 

“Nurse!” he howled “Help me! She’s gone.”

The door was flung open, its hinges screeching in protest.  The nurse rushed into the room, her rubber soled shoes squeaking on the polished floor.

“She’s gone, hasn’t she?” he cried, tears streaming unchecked down his stubbled cheeks.

She briefly nodded her head.  “She has, I’m sorry Bob.”

His head dropped as he sobbed harder.  She gently touched his shoulder, leading him away from the body in the bed, the doll he so lovingly tucked in every night, crooned to and called his daughter.  Poor Bob she thought.  His real daughter had died in a house fire caused by a lightning strike.  He’d been in the house alone with her and hadn’t been able to save her.

“Come on Bob, let’s get you some more tablets.” 

A great piece by Sharon.

Any feedback is always appreciated.

If you'd like to share your work, please send via the contact button or email me

directly at :-

neville.raper@gmail.com

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Happy middle of the week !!

Hope you are all doing great....

Today's guest writer is Marjory Lacy.
Marjory is a prolific writer and will soon be releasing her new book
of memoirs.

As soon as it's released I will of course publish a link on here.

This poem is called .... Donkey

When fishes flew and forests walked

And figs grew upon the torn,

Some moment when the moon was blood

Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head, and sickening cry

And ears like errant wings,

The devil’s walking parody

Of all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,

Of ancient crooked will;

Starve, scourge, deride me; I am dumb.

I kept my secret still.

Fools! For I had my hour;

One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears.

And palms before my feet.

Note: Donkeys have a cross on their backs

denoting that they were the animal which carried

Jesus Christ on Palm Sunday.

Lovely.......as usual, your comments are welcome, and so is your own work.
Send via the contact button...

Happy Tuesday !

Today's guest writer is Martin Dixon..

His poem, in three parts is about the art of Professional Wrestling !

One: Dim Lights.

I who wear spandex and pretend to fight 

I who do this dance night after night

I who still help set the ring up just right

I am a professional wrestler

I who count the lights on the ceiling

I who am an expert at selling a beating

I who lose without crying or bleating

I am a professional wrestler

I who will tell you "I hate this man"

I whose wellbeing is really in his hands

I who must trust that he sticks to the plan

I am a professional wrestler

I who they've chosen to job to a big star from TV

I who they're paying 3 times more than me

I who could beat him up but you see,

I am a professional wrestler

I who will do the job again tonight

I who will try and make it a convincing fight

I who keep losing to the big boys night after night

I am a professional wrestler

I who electrify gyms, town halls and fairs in faded tights

I who tell myself someday it'll be stadiums with my name in lights

I who then will be able to say and actually be right

I am a Professional Wrestler

Two: Bright Lights

I am the one who has paid all my dues

I am the one with so much to lose

I am the one who makes headline news

I am a professional wrestler

I am the one who must raise the bar higher

I am the one to whom a new generation aspire

I am the one who can't afford to get tired

I am a professional wrestler

I am the one breaking bones on every continent

I am the one who's every move requires comment

I am the one who is savior and ire of the internet

I am a professional wrestler

I am the one on a ladder 15 feet high

I am the one who will fall from the sky

I am the one who must justify my price

I am a professional wrestler

I am the one who finally got "over"

I am the one who must try to stay "over"

I am the one hoping this will never be over

I am a professional wrestler.

Three: Fading Lights

I who still wear spandex and pretend to fight

I who still do this night after night

I who wish I was still under stadium lights

I am a professional wrestler

I am the one with a battered old frame

I am the one still trading on a name

I am the one sold as a legend of the game

I am a professional wrestler

I am the one who had an army of fans 

I am the one they would clamour to shake my hand

I am the one who let it slip from my grasp

I am a professional wrestler

I am the one who couldn't walk away

I am the one trying to live life in the fast lane

I am the one who has become what I hate

I am a professional wrestler

I am the one who is now the big star from TV

I am the one working a guy getting half my fee

I am the one remembering when he was me

I am a professional wrestler

He is the one with his star on the rise

He is the one with the fire in his eyes

He is the one hoping to see his name in bright lights

He is a professional wrestler

We who wear spandex and pretend to fight

We who do this dance night after night

We who work for you no matter how dim the light

We are professional wrestlers

By Martin Dixon

Great piece, as usual, if you've got some work you'd like showcasing, please send it in via the contact button or e-mail me directly at -

neville.raper@gmail.com

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Happy Monday all......

Hope you are all fit and well...

I was given the request last week to come up with a work that shows an element

of "unexpected"... If your read my stories then you know this is something

I am particularly interested in.

Here's a poem I came up with ....

n raper - 2017

Hope you enjoyed.....

Now Albert's bit :-

Hello to all my human fans.....

Well this week I've started pooing on the bathroom mat.

I've seen Nev do it, so I thought it was probably the best place. Obviously, I didn't do it in the 

toilet as that's where I drink !

Nev seems pretty pleased as he picks it up and flushes it away. That's if he notices, the other day, for some reason he stood in it and then danced across the bathroom to the shower, very strange ! and

the language, well I can tell you, it turned my brown ears blue.

He muttered something about feeding me condoms, then on a morning it'll be ready bagged !!

Well gotta go now,..... Postman to catch and all that....

See you all soon !!

Albert x

I was recently asked to "re-imagine" a classic fairy tale.
Here is a short story I came up with.
I think you'll be able to work out which one it is......but perhaps with a slightly 
different ending.....

By Neville RaperRed

Little Red Riding Hood put on her hood which was, erm, red.

Her father, the Woodman, spoke “be careful in the woods it is full of beasties and monsters that would love to gobble up a little girl like you “

 

“I will pa pa “she responded in her best Red Riding Hood voice, “I will keep to the path all the way to Grandmama’s “

 

“That's a good girl, take the bread mother has made “

 

Red picked up the little basket of buns and cheerfully went in her way.

 

As she entered the dark deep woods fingers of chill ran down her spine. She heard every creak and groan of the boughs around her. The tree tendrils strained and stretched as if to snatch up little Red. She was the splash of colour in a dark green world. She quietly whistled to herself as she skipped along, her melody masking the moans of the misshapen forest. It moved in waves of wind flowing and ebbing around her, but still, she walked on.

 

She soon came across her Grandmama’s house, a beautiful cottage adorned with ivy and probably worth more than £550 thousand.

 

Red knocked on the door,

a soft shrill voice responded, “who is it?”

“Hello Gran Ma Ma, it's me, Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Come in sweetheart.”

 

Red entered the house Grandmama was lying on her sofa bed in her little front room. She was in her fluffy dressing gown with tiny pictures of sheep dancing around, Red was sure, if she counted them, she'd fall asleep.

 

“Hello Little Red,” Grandmama said “how lovely to see you, what have you got in your basket? “

“I have freshly baked bread that Ma-Ma has made.”

 

“Ooh how nice, please put it on the side.”

 

Little Red sat beside her Grandmother and studied her face carefully,

“My grandmother what big eyes you have.”

 

“Do you think so Little Red? I suppose it's because I'm long-sighted, convex glasses do tend to magnify things, but thank you.”

 

“My grandmother what big teeth you have.”

 

“Thank you Little Red; I've just got these from the orthodontist, I'm quite pleased with them, I'm sure now I could eat anything, apart from toffees of course” Grand Ma Ma laughed.

 

“My grandma how hairy you are.”

 

“Bit rude, but thank you for pointing it out, ladies of a certain age do tend to be a slightly more hirsute, I will wax my top lip.”

 

Little Red Riding Hood started to shiver; she studied Grandma even more intently,

“My My Grandmother what big claws you have.”

 

“Claws dear? you mean my manicure,…….. “

 

Before she could finish, Little Red Riding Hood jumped to her feet threw off her hood and threw back her head and screamed, “You're a Wolf, and you’ve eaten my Gran Ma Ma !”

 

“Pardon? “Said grandmother, just then the cottage for burst open, it rocked on its hinges, as in strode the massive manliness of the woodcutter. He raised his giant axe and in one smooth motion deftly removed grandmother’s head.

 

“Well done Little Red Riding Hood, you've saved us from an evil beastie.”

 

“Thank you Pa Pa, shall we split the inheritance? “

"Yes love, but we'll give the carpets a clean, they smell like wet dog"

 

End

Hope you enjoyed, you can submit your work via the contact box or e-mail me at :-

neville.raper@gmail.com

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Is there such thing as flash poetry ?

Just in case, here's some :-

Neville Raper

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I was given an image of an empty world with only one survivor....
This is what I came up with....

All Gone

An indentation where

You laid

Empty now your

Perfumes fade

To kitchen, kettle

Coffee, mug

No morning kiss

No daybreak hug

Outside the window

All is dark

No love, no light

No life, no spark

A Billion souls

All turned to dust

Ashes to ashes

They all combust

Now just me

The last one left ?

Was it always so

Cradle to bereft 

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