Her Face Forgotten (Poem)

But now we have a new prompt to deal with! Because I am a rather obvious person at heart, I challenge you to write a cinquain on this, the fifth day of NaPoWriMo. A cinquain is a poem that employs stanzas with five lines. Each line has a certain number of accented or stressed syllables, and a certain number of overall syllables per line. In the “American” cinquain, a form invented by a woman with the highly unfortunate name of Adelaide Crapsey, the number of stresses per line is 1-2-3-4-1, and the number of syllables is 2-4-6-8-2. So the first line would have two syllables, one stressed and one unstressed. The second line would have four syllables, two of which are stressed, and so on. This kind of accent/syllabic verse can be a bit frustrating at first, but it’s useful for learning to sharpen up your language!-from NaPoWriMo blog

Not sure if I've got this one down, but this is my attempt. 

Slowly
Your face leaves me
I forget your smile, too
It seems as if it's left my mind
Today.

A Series of Unlikely Explanations (Poem)

There’s a whole twitter account devoted to tweeting Iain-M-Banks-like names for spaceships. So your challenge for today is to write a poem with a title drawn from one of these spaceship names. Feel free to pick a genuine Banks, like the ones listed above, or to take one from the twitter. And if you think of your own Banks-like spaceship name title, feel free to use that! The poet Barbara Guest wrote an essay warning poets about starting from the title, but while I’ve found that a wonderful poem usually finds its right title, I’ve also found that the right title can easily lead to a wonderful poem!-from NaPoWriMo blog. 

A Series of Unlikely Explanations

It seems unlikely that we two should have met

And even more so that we would have got along.

But really it might not be as unlikely as all that

'Cause I like pretty girls (and eccentric ones it seems)

And you are some of that and all of those things.

So perhaps the series of events in my world and yours

That lead to us meeting are not so absurd.

Maybe the stars aligned in a certain way

Bringing us both here in this place today.

Or maybe the world is a series of random events.

Maybe there's no rhyme or reason to this poem or life.

Maybe we all just rot in the ground after death

And our meeting means nothing, too.

But I'd like to think that the former possibility is true.

But it doesn't really matter though; it just matters what we do.

So let's enjoy each other's company and forget all the stars.

You are my favorite unlikely explanation by far.

What Kind of Woman? (Poem)

And now, our prompt (remember — these are optional, so if they don’t inspire you or you have an idea of your own you want to work with, go ahead!). I’m playing to my own strengths here, but I challenge you to write a sea shanty (or shantey, or chanty, or chantey — there’s a good deal of disagreement regarding the spelling!). Anyway, these are poems in the forms of songs, strongly rhymed and rhythmic, that sailors might sing while hauling on ropes and performing other sea-going labors. Probably the two most famous sea shanties are What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor? and Blow the Man Down. And what should your poem be about? Well, I suppose it could be about anything, although some nautical phrases tossed into the chorus would be good for keeping the sea in your shanty. Haul away, boys, haul away!-from NaPoWriMo blog.

Hey, hey, what can I say?
What kind of woman can make me feel this way?
Working so hard today
(Work so hard every day)
Thinking about her is what gets me through most days.

Hey, hey, what do you say?
Do you have a woman to make you feel okay?
Working so hard today
(Work so hard every day)
I think you'll be better if you find someone today.

Hey, hey, what does she say?
Does she wait at home for me every single day?
Working so hard today
(Work so hard every day)
She thinks she might find a better man someday.

Hey, hey, what does he say?
Who is this other guy who makes her feel this way?
Working so hard today
(Work so hard every day)
She thinks he's better in a few subtle ways.

Hey, hey, what can I say?
What kind of woman can make me feel this way?
Working so hard today
(Work so hard everyday)
I think I'll find a better one who won't run away.

I Can Lie Tonight (Poem)

Today’s prompt is drawn from an idea that Kelsey Howard gave me — that of a poem that tells a lie. I think you could have a poem that’s all lies (that could be very funny — full of things like “the sun is the size of a nickel”) or a poem that steadily builds to telling one big whopper. I can imagine these being very poignant, or very much like goofy shaggy-dog stories. I suppose it all comes down to what you want to lie about! -from NaPoWriMo blog

I pine for you still and I don't wish you the best.
I see your happy life and it makes me sad.
Wondering what it could have been with you and me
Wandering into sadness again about how it all went wrong.

I'm not over you yet; I still want you to come back to me.
I'm not glad you're happy or that someone can make you so.
I never came to that wonderful moment that I stopped thinking about you.
I've not wished you well in quite some time.

Still, I can't say I think about you all of the time;
There are times when life provides chores, errands, and dragons to slay.
I think that you were completely wrong, though, and I have no I'm sorrys to say.
I have no regrets when it comes to all of that; I did the best I could and that is that.

I can't lie tonight and I say it all went right;
I regret having met you and I wish I never had.
You didn't make my life better or provide me with any fun.
My life isn't a little better just for having met you; I'd say it's a wash, and the pleasure only equaled (never surpassed) the pain...

I've wished that I could lie and my wish has now come true.
If the truth is to be known, I've left behind the blue.
I've managed to move on from you, and that is simply true.
But can you trust me after I've lied? I've stopped lying now, but can you believe?
The stanza before this one is the last to deceive.

Moving Time (Poem)

I'm playing catch-up with NaPoWriMo. The first prompt is to take the first line of a poem and make your own poem. I am taking the line of a poem I read recently by Charles Bukowski "a smile to remember" from the collection The Pleasures of the Damned.

we had goldfish and they circled around and around
that seemed to be all they did
were they really happy doing that?
how many people circle a place, really?
just staying in the same city, the same town, the same country
stuck in a rut and not knowing how to get out?
I feel trapped at times
by life, by circumstance, by fear
not wanting to move for fear
afraid that things would be different
that things would change if I moved
feeling a comfort for life that's brought on by complacent mediocrity
if it's true that wherever you go there you are
then maybe I should leave for leaving's sake
And find an absence of fear that's been here all along