National Poetry Writing Month 2022
Every year in April I accept the challenge to write 30 poems in 30 days for National Poetry Month. I may not write a poem every single day, but I have a goal to get to 30 by April 30th, and this year it’s an especially important goal because it is also in the month of my 30th birthday!
Below are the poems I have written for NaPoWriMo 2022. If you want to read these and other poems of mine, please feel free to check out my poetry blog here. For writing prompts and other information about how you can get involved, please check out NaPoWriMo.net.
It stretches skin (30/30)
Something in my sobriety has ruptured
and through the hole my soul pours forth with force
it stretches skin, demanding room for exit
to wrap you up in warmth and stay on guard
protect you from what’s hard, from what hurts
Dreamily, distracted, I failed to notice
how passively the walls began to thin
and only in the moment of sincerity, of pain
could I see just how close to me you’ve been
and tenderness is the word I choose
and full and full and full is how I feel
and maybe now you see me and can Love me
maybe now it’s real, maybe it’s true
--
A. Wylde
April 30th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 30/30
Warrior/Healer (29/30)
How I have longed for the battlefields, and felt bashful. How I have seen and cherished the warriors and wished away my own strength. I am not a warrior, no matter how many times I try to run straight toward the wounds. Our world wants a warrior to make into a martyr—a leader they can kill and then revere. And I am not a warrior like I have longed to be. And I have abandoned myself inside the longing. And a warrior has tried to kill the healer in me.
I am collecting knowings in my notebooks. I am building knowing in my chest. And I have hands that press the known into life force, and words are distilled magic from my breast. I have always known the path to knowing, and I have been surprised to walk the path with few. I point in the direction of the knowing, and it is away from the path straight to wounds. I have learned to love and hold a warrior; I have learned to give and make, and find and temper, and honor and hold a truth.
It is not my way to forge a path, and it is not my role to wander on. And only in search of the warrior did I roam. Only in search of the otherness did I lack. Home is what I make it (where I make it), and it is my affair to be somewhere you can find your way back. I will plant my feet like roots, take seed and breathe and my toes will finally be warm inside the earth. I can become a layout in a sketchbook, a place as much as a thing as much as a dream.
A mapmaker who sits still seems a conundrum. And doesn’t making a map require peace? I can be as exacting as I am stable, and I didn’t know there was stability in me. Long ago I relinquished weapons, but I did so quietly, felt a shame at failing to be the powerful force (when I am a guiding light); on the front lines (when I protect from the trees).
I have home now, and so too must I build it with every material available in me. I can build a home to be inside of as a healer, with my notebooks, inside the knowing, between the trees.
–
A. Wylde
April 30th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 29/30
is all there is [is all there is] (28/30)
It has taken me too long to realize
that a small meal, on a warm Spring Saturday,
in my small corner of the world
with my great Loves in my chest,
a warm, sweet coffee swimming with oats
a crispy, indulgent pastry,
a brisk breeze, a lively and present conversation
in a small neighborhood I know by heart
a sunny smile, abundant laughter
that a small meal, on a warm Spring Saturday,
is all there is
is all there is
--
A. Wylde
April 30th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 28/30
res(is)t (27/30)
I wonder who told me that to suffer
was honorable
and whether they sleep well at night
I wonder where I learned that to go without
is what makes me worthy
and whether I’ll release
when I let myself slow
and sleep
–
A. Wylde
April 30th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 27/30
What it takes (26/30)
What it takes to leave is courage
what is takes to stay is grit
What it takes to leave is momentum
what it takes to stay is force
What it takes to leave is certainty
what it takes to stay is commitment
What it takes to leave is resignation
what it takes to stay is surrender
–
A. Wylde
April 28th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 26/30
Today, Wyoming (25/30)
Today, Wyoming
tomorrow I am back home
hello and goodbye
–
April 28th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 25/30
fall flat (24/30)
I love you I love you I love I love you
and how do I show you?
how can it overcome you the way it has me?
I love you I love you
and words
fall flat
–
A. Wylde
April 28th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 24/30
Scatterbits (23/30)
Both ears warm like they’re listening to some far off whisperings
like maybe you were talking about me just now
and the strain to work it all out
overheated the system
One foot slightly colder than the other like it’s on some grand adventure
like maybe it’s slightly farther out the door
and the pull to find something new
drained out all the sustenance
Wandering, wandering eyes, like nothing is sharp enough to hold
like maybe I don’t know how to look straight ahead
and you’re right there, right here
but when is the last time I saw you
–
A. Wylde
April 28th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 23/30
runtime (22/30)
hours become days & the I-80 West is windy and dreary this Spring day
we watch an 18-wheeler shift four feet with every forcible gust
keeping our eyes glued in horror, certain it will roll over
& count the tumbled trucks, trailers, and campers on the sides of the road
i look up property values and you learn about the dust bowl
& we laugh and argue the usage of the word “city”
how daringly and feverishly imprecise
to put Des Moines in conversation with Denver
& recklessly with Toronto
it’s wet without being warm & you’re not used to the climate
after the rolling hills of Illinois the junction outside of Omaha doesn’t move me
& as I-29 turns into South Dakota, I remember the Black Hills,
think ahead to what Wyoming holds, wish we had some time
to take the scenic route North to Big Sky
& yet even the unvariety is welcome, we get bored and then spend hours & hours
talking through some hare-brained idea
alone together & together in an absence of space
the four car doors around us, walls to our private world
& i wouldn’t trade these days with you
for anything
--
A. Wylde
April 24th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 22/30
Pragma (21/30)
As Eros softens it seems love has died
often we don’t know it needs lay fallow
the lust to see a sprouting at springtide
pressure that can turn a good Love sallow
Anything that is worth it’s weight can wait
much stronger are the goals and bonds we tend
understanding makes a spark constellate
commitment provides quality to mend
Lovingly and fondly, I grow honor
patiently, together we choose to build
Eros melts away but this Love’s calmer
heads level, hearts are apt to be fulfilled
Seen as whole, a warm embrace—accepting
softer touch, honest care in connecting
--
A. Wylde
from 7 Sonnets on Love
April 24th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 21/30
in time (20/30)
There is something calling me home about 30
some way in which I am 30, and have been
a way 30 fits me even before it arrives
and the last time I noticed I was 23
but now I am 30 and it is right
I remember when I was 18
for quite a bit longer than I was 18
and it felt like I was meant to be
like maybe I would always long for and pine after
that first taste of freedom
enough room to make bad decisions quietly
running wild into the starless night and waking up wherever I was
and 18 held onto me in a way I‘d never felt before
and for five years I felt like I was losing something...
or failing to gain something else
Even looking back, those years feel lost, but I will never forget 23
the year I learned who I was on nearly every level,
the year I loved harder and lost more,
fought myself and everyone around me
painfully forced my way out of the cocoon
and here I am saying goodbye to 29,
and I am who I am because of me at 23
all that fighting that I did to become
I wonder whether the lost periods get longer
and I feel at home here
coming into the corner on a long decade
proud, ready to wear 30 like a testament to my strength
and how long will it be that I long for 30?
how long will it be until I feel like myself again?
if the trend carries
the next time I wake up I’ll be 39
I want to live my life better in the betweens
and not worry so much about the shining intervals
I want to go back to the place where death didn’t scare me
(and neither was it a welcome reprieve)
because I knew I was living
in such a way that any day
as a last day
would do
And tomorrow I am 30
but I knew I would be
and already was
and in some ways I am 23, too
and also 18
and I think in some ways
I am 39
softer, more patient
and more kind
--
A. Wylde
April 20th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 20/30
Fleetingly I think I am (19/30)
Fleetingly, in the moments that seem to squeeze between moments—like on Tuesdays, or once I turn 50, or when I was in primary school; like something you’re playing hide and seek with through your life, only to wind up at the finish line having spent all these years chasing your own shadow through a maze.
No, and maybe I’m learning to let that be.
In a sense I’m redefining it, maybe making up for myself what that even means. Alone in my own presence—does it even matter? Does it hold any weight? Does it move me? Do I care? If not, is it a worthy end?
Put me in touch with whosoever is and I will be happy to sit quietly in their presence and observe—my money's on it turns out to all be a farce.
I think so. For now. I hope so. I think I am.
--
A. Wylde
inspired by the Day 18 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net
April 20th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 19/30
Philautia (18/30)
I’m here now sweetheart, no one else will come
to stir up your fears, or take you back home
Danger is gone now, and all will be calm
and I can protect you from any harm
I’ve got you now honey—you have been brave
when no one was listening, you were so strong
We both made it through, now I’ll keep you safe
and maybe together we can belong
Those who object to us do so in fear
recall—not everyone knows their true name
I am the outcome since you persevered
I can’t be convinced my strength should be shame
My inner innocence, my how we’ve grown
and blessed am I to reap all that you’ve sown
--
A. Wylde
April 19th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 18/30
Weaselwords (17/30)
Take me in your teeth,
then wonder at my wounds—and
who am I to hurt?
--
A. Wylde
April 17th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 17/30
Ludus (16/30)
Playfully, you speak to me in riddles
as joyously we chase each other’s whims
Under covers, wrapped up in our giggles
you’re rhyming words, I’m searching synonyms
Tell a joke we both know is unfunny
the laughter starts and cannot be contained
Our private world—through darkness—is sunny
in madness we stay somehow entertained
In foolishness—still a glimpse of tender
along with giggles, so too comes the draw
after the games—such a sweet surrender
to play tempts even coldest hearts to thaw
We both know what your gleaming eyes convey
no fear or failure takes our joy away
--
A. Wylde
from 7 Sonnets on Love
April 17th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 16/30
if prone (15/30)
Isn’t it a tiny delight that in some world we’re
absolutely enraptured
in some timeline we are
inextricably intertwined
and I let myself taste it, savor the flavor
remember that in this life I am also blessed
unusually composed
if prone to entertain a day dream
--
A. Wylde
April 15th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 15/30
Here Now (14/30)
Not only here now
but all now—and only here
at peace in presence
--
A. Wylde
April 14th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 14/30
Eros (13/30)
I can scarcely speak your name in Summer
without provoking force of gravity
a word is all it takes to again stir
magnetic pull you’ve always had on me
The being wanted is my kryptonite
Your voice, your form, my body—overcome
Your heat, and me there melting at the sight
remembering the stars we both are from
And when I’m quiet, you still say my name
and in your silence, my dreams are of you
given the chance we’d do it all the same
we love our past the most when it’s untrue
In place of breaking, our bond simply bent
our souls still dance in sweet entanglement
--
A. Wylde
from 7 Sonnets on Love
April 13th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 13/30
hold me gently as I mis-fit (12/30)
How many ways could you have taught me to say my name?
how many tongues lost?
You were the only one of you
and the only one of your kind to show me kindness
I wish I could tell you I grew up to be a writer, too
and I do
over candles in moonlight whispers
and still I miss your lap
and being small enough to fit in it
wonder in abundance at your every quirk
I wish I could show you my library
How your library gave birth to mine
and it hasn’t yet grown into it’s own room, but when it does
I’ll wish I could show you that too
and every hair on my head that turns shiny
and every wrinkle I build in my sleep
I wish you could meet my children,
or that I had any to meet
and in secret moments that pain is the greatest of them all—
I wish there were more to show of me
And yet I know you’d delight in me
and hold me gently as I mis-fit
I spoke to our family in our tongue, triumphant!
broken language over broken bond
and even as I wish to show you,
I recognize all the traces of you still here
and all the things I’d bring to you to see
were gifts
that you gave me
--
A. Wylde
April 13th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 12/30
Going in threes (11/30)
I. Muggy and without air conditioning, we slept peacefully in days we didn’t know were out last—a St. Louis rendezvous I spent all Summer paying for. You wore my sweatshirt when we said goodbye and the kind of uncertainty you were walking into was a ghost at our dinners, a ringing in my ears. I drove four hours East on I-70 in the heat to see you again, risked it all to hold you one last time even as you pulled away engulfed, a phantom of fear.
And I held onto the nothing, shelter would burn all we’d reap
This piece of me is with you still, this bit is yours to keep
--
II. At the Discovery Lodge off highway 34 we sat and stared out the window at the snowfall, thick white flakes like tiny cotton balls filling up the sky and covering the ground. We walked back from the hot tub with bare feet giggling, a little tipsy, to eat leftover Mexican rice in bed. I let my head lay in your lap, bared my soul and stood there naked - you told me rest my weary heart, and that seeing me didn’t break you.
And beside the elk I loved you, and the whole town heard us weep
This piece of me is with you still, this bit is yours to keep
--
III. The drive to Boulder was sunny that day. You walked into the graduation party 45 minutes late, the kind of light that draws every face in the room. Not one person there who didn’t want your attention, and we locked eyes, tiny heartbeats worth of time standing still, the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes all radiating warmth. It had been too long since we’d seen each other, and as soon as you sat down five hours past, we were the only ones left, still there talking intently, and wishing we didn’t have to leave.
And we met again on Pearl street, stayed out all night fighting sleep
This piece of me is with you still, this bit is yours to keep
--
A. Wylde
April 11th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 11/30
All’s well in the end, you’d tell me (10/30)
I remember the way you loved the moon, even moved with her like the tide
I used to walk to your place on Laurel carrying all my books
stand outside and ask if you’d let me in
“don’t want it to end,” you’d tell me
“I can’t risk letting it begin”
We never could understand each other, maybe least of all when we tried
I lost myself trying to memorize the nuance in your looks
unsure, I’d ask, jot notes, then ask again
“it shouldn’t be hard,” you’d tell me
“at least not as hard as it’s been”
There always was a way I felt foreign, happenstance you let me inside
At home in a place not quite made for me, squeezed in crannies and nooks
so I tried to make myself fit within
“it’s better to lose,” you’d tell me
“than dress your defeat as a win”
--
A. Wylde
April 8th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 10/30
blooming (9/30)
Mosquito bites are my happy place
May has me waiting for release
awakening with the sprouts
cautious but still hopeful
shaking off the stale
ready for the
popsicles
summer
sun
--
A. Wylde
inspired by the daily prompt at NaPoWriMo.net
April 9th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 9/30
Wanderers (8/30)
All the whispers left me wondering
the words all left me dry
great expenditures to clean up the mess our
minds unchecked make of our lives
have I been this way before?
told this story once or twice?
us, a rainy city, sniffing old books and penning new lines
It isn’t that I forget, so much as it
is that I let wither
solved by tending to the garden plot
by knees firm to the ground
walking shapes we’ve dreamed already and not yet held
--
A. Wylde
April 8th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 8/30
Agape (7/30)
When all else overwhelms, I close my eyes
and picture such a brilliant beam of white
a Love so pure it takes me by surprise
enters my head and fills me up with light
Now breathing in and out becomes rapture
In every limb and digit only warmth
peace you only hold but cannot capture
a quietness that calms me in my storms
Then beaming, I ask some light be passed on
and please don’t mention that it came from here
but forward to connections now foregone
who if they knew the sender would but sneer
A Love lives here that never can be broken
Not even at a distance and unspoken
--
A. Wylde
from 7 Sonnets on Love
April 8th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 7/30
Philia (6/30)
I’ve felt this more than once, the swelling rise
I pushed it down, but feared it would break through
then bursting, let it slip, however wise
“I am platonically in love with you,”
Warmth pouring from my ribs like fireworks
a kind of Love I didn’t know to seek
So powerful and clear it turned to words
then nerves the moment just before you speak
Not an absence—that’s the misconception
no thing is missing from the way I feel
bold and tender is this sound connection
so all-encompassing it seems surreal
with temperate hope I wondered at the chance
Could we be consumed in celibate romance?
--
A. Wylde
from 7 Sonnets on Love
April 6th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 6/30
Storge (5/30)
When called, the fragments of my heart will sing
from corners of the world far and wide
and long to be together once again
the scars where cut apart are hard to hide
My every soul mate has a little piece
A small but living, breathing, aching bit
The time and distance stretch with no release
It’s heavier than I care to admit
Should they cross each other’s paths at random
substantial fascination would take hold
parts of wholes do wish to live in tandem
the way we intertwine has been foretold
A love so powerful it plays to keep
that sees you whole, and sings you off to sleep
--
A. Wylde
from 7 Sonnets on Love
April 5th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 5/30
From the summit (4/30)
From the summit, my body believes this is endless
from the height of it, the horizon seems to go on
and even with the scars still pink and puffy
my mind won’t carry memory of endings
From the canyon floor, my body is still
from the bottom, rays don’t reach to warm my toes
and even though I’ve been here I’m suspicious
I cannot memorize the weight of letting go
In the conflict, forever seems a promise
from my hope, an elixir of disbelief
and even when it hits me I’m not honest
I don’t remember what it’s like to leave
--
A. Wylde
April 4th, 2022
NaPoWriMo 4/30
wishes and dreams (3/30)
I wish my pain was more beautiful. I have seen anger shatter into a million tiny reflective pieces, like a mosaic of physical anguish - and it was breath taking. I have always found destruction more attainable than creation, and when I can’t find either inside myself I feel void.
Even in my silence I am still longing to be heard. Even as I listen there is a torment to the knowing and being so unable to bring it all to be. All this lost love isn’t lost, it’s living on in me.
I do wonder what any of it means - whether any of it means anything at all. I get tired of telling the stories, faces fresh with awe at the bottomless, or the ability to breathe that high up in the sky. I’m bored with being fascinating; grant me presence or peace or death.
I will need many more fingers to plug up all the holes that cannot stand the offense. How alone is alone can alone even be, how much farther from here can I get?
I wish my empty was more marvelous. I wish my goodbye was more clean. I wish my own two hands were enough, and I could stop writing down wishes and dreams.
—
A. Wylde
April 3rd, 2022
NaPoWriMo 3/30
Lasts (2/30)
Softly, softly, slowly
then all at once
a page ripped from the center of the story
a hole in plot,
in time,
shifted perspective
Whispering, now roaring
then back to whispers
Cleverly finds a corner to unravel.
Around again,
familiar,
unforgiving light
Single file, one by one
then storm the line
no such thing as too late to make changes
softly now, in whispers
then in time
--
A. Wylde
April 2nd, 2022
NaPoWriMo 2/30
and only a moment (1/30)
“and how long will you go on this way?”
“all teeth clenched—how long will you bear it?”
Already eyes swollen,
cheeks wet now
folding into a ball
under weight of the knowledge
that I cannot
I cannot
carry all
“and where is there grace for you then?”
“and when are you finally free?”
“it’s okay, it’s okay if not here”
“it’s okay, okay if not me”
Half moon cuts in my palms now,
fingers are already cold
I know it’s my job to be stronger
and I have to
I have to
keep hold
“and I too can bend, love”
“and even you can break”
Under force of the tender,
an already warmth
a respite come sooner than death
and only a moment
a hope
a moment
and only a moment
a breath
--
A. Wylde
April 1st, 2022
NaPoWriMo 1/30