Tag Archives: poem

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Day 12: ‘The Devil’s Pawn’

Today’s prompt was one I wasn’t sure I wanted to do. It was to write a poem consisting of things I’d want to say, but never would, to someone I know. I went ahead and did it anyway. The person being addressed will remain anonymous for the sake of privacy. For the record, I longer associate with the person in question and the thoughts and feelings expressed herein don’t necessarily reflect my current opinions.

The Devil’s Pawn
By Nathan Marchand

You call me “narcissist,” “loser,” “predator,”
When all I ever did was love her.
Who is this man you fear will hurt her,
This man she must be protected against?
He is not I! I’ve done her no harm.
You are blind to the truth.

You think you know me,
That I’m just like the wretches
You see filling cells everyday.
But the only one I see is you:
The control freak who listens to nobody
And rules his household with an iron fist.

Only the perfect man will suit her,
So no man is worthy, in your mind.
No man except you, it seems.
Perhaps you should’ve married her
Since you are the greatest of men,
Except incest is a sin, even for you.

You dare chide me like a “brother”?
You are the Devil’s pawn,
A thorn in my side sent to torture me.
I pity you for becoming a tool.
There is no love, no trust, in you, only darkness.
You’re not my brother—he wouldn’t treat me such.

One day you will lose her in another man’s arms,
Or she will lose you to death’s cold touch.
Can you live without being the center of her universe?
Have you trained her to live without you?
Your “protection” is a prison for you both.
And you’ve left me caged by hate.

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Day 11: ‘He Beat Me’

Today’s prompt was to write a tanka, which is a poem with a syllable pattern of 5-7-5-7-7. Essentially, it’s a long haiku, although it usually has a twist ending. Here’s my contribution, which was inspired by a humorous misunderstanding I heard in the radio drama series, Adventures in Odyssey. Enjoy!

He Beat Me
By Nathan Marchand

He beat me last night.
He jumped me with his black king
Over and over.
Never again will I play
A game of checkers with him.

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Days 9 & 10: ‘Mystery of the Missing Poem’ and ‘Greed’

Yes, unfortunately I fell behind. So, I write two poems today to make up for it.

Yesterday’s prompt was to write a poem inspired by noir. Since I didn’t write a poem yesterday, I wrote one today that makes fun of me neglecting to write. It isn’t very good, but it should be entertaining.

Today’s prompt was to write an “un-love” poem. Read the post to understand what that means. I’m not sure mine fits that description. It’s a little too serious, I think. Regardless, I hope you enjoy.

Day 9:
Mystery of the Missing Poem
By Nathan Marchand

I’d just lit up my cigarette when she came in.
That cliché beautiful blonde who always bugged me.
Said it was April, which meant it was NaPoWriMo.
“What the H-E-double hockey sticks is that?” I asked.
“National Poetry Writing Month,” she replied.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Someone was supposed to write a poem
For me yesterday, but he didn’t give it to me.
I need you to find it. Please, I beg you!”

She batted her overlong eyelashes at me.
I, also being a cliché, have a weakness for blondes,
So I took the job at a discounted rate.
Poor dame musta had her heart set on that poem.
She told me the poet was some guy from Indiana
Who had a knack for submitting poems at the last minute.
She gave me his address, which wasn’t far.
“I’ll probably be back before I finish my cig,” I said.
She cracked that beautiful as I walked out the door.

I found this poet’s place a few blocks away,
His apartment buried in the back of a decaying house.
Cool as a cucumber (I do love clichés), I opened the door,
And found the wide-eyed poet sitting at his typewriter.
“Beautiful dame tells me you owed her a poem yesterday,”
I said, exhaling smoke at him. “Where’s it at?”
Wringing his hands, he said, “It’s quite simple.
It was…stolen. By the mafia. The boss’s named Vinnie.”
He talked like a bad salesman selling me a car.

I dragged on my cig and said, “Look, kid, don’t lie to me.
Let’s make it simple: do ya or don’t ya have the poem?”
His head hung, he replied: “I forgot to write it.
I was busy visiting friends yesterday. Tell her
I’ll write two today to make up for it.”
“You better, kid, ‘cause I’ll be watchin’ you,” I said,
And exited the room, walking back to my office,
Where I know a blonde dame will be happy.
I wish every mystery were this easy.

Day 10:
Greed
By Nathan Marchand

She loves me…
No, she loves me not.
Her lovers are the greenbacks:
Jackson, Grant, and Franklin.
She finds security in their power
And not in my arms.
She comes to me, hoping
She can get to them through me,
But finds I’m Gilbert and not Mr. Darcy,
Who the greenbacks always favored.
So she took the coward’s path
And discarded me from afar,
Not daring to look me in the eye.
“Good riddance,” I say to hide my broken heart,
“Some say her lovers are root of all evil.
I doubt it, but her love for them certainly is.”

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Day 8: ‘Speech’

Today prompt was to write an ottava rima: an Italian poetic form that, in English, has the form of an eight-line stanza of iambic pentameter, with a rhyme scheme of a-b-a-b-a-b-c-c. My poem for the day should probably be longer and I’m not sure it follows iambic pentameter correctly. You be the judge.

Speech
By Nathan Marchand

I entered my speech for fun,
With no expectations of winning.
But to my surprise, I won.
The shock kept me from grinning.
“This can’t be true. I must be done.”
However, it was only the beginning.
I would stand before the proud legion
To give my graduation speech about Lincoln.

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Day 7: ‘The Question’

Today’s prompt was fairly simple: write a poem where each line is a declarative sentence, except for the last one, which must be a question. I decided to compose a humorous poem about a very old question (and make a mandatory Doctor Who reference). Enjoy!

The Question
By Nathan Marchand

From the dawn of time, it has been a mystery.
A question left unanswered throughout history.
No, you silly nerd, it isn’t “Doctor who?”,
It has caused far more hullabaloo.
Philosophers have pondered, but found no answer,
But they probably only did it to avoid brain cancer.
Even Jack Hanna, animal adventurer, is totally clueless.
(But perhaps that is his hubris).
So it will remain a question never understood—
How much wood could a woodchuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Day 6: ‘Final Farewell’

Today’s prompt was to write a valediction, which is a poem of farewell. I like the one I wrote, although I don’t know if it quite qualifies as a valediction. It recounts two lovers’ happy times together until they are forced to separate and say their last goodbye. Let me know if you think it counts as a valediction.

Final Farewell
By Nathan Marchand

We met the day the Fallen had his revenge.
Summoned by Erik the Red to the halls of Valhalla
To gather with friends for food and battles and stories,
You a lovely Valkyrie and I a mighty warrior.
We allied against your brother, the devious Loki,
Winning many victories,
For in my presence, you were surer in battle.
Our partings were always jovial,
For we knew we would always meet again.

Then one night, you shared a secret with me,
And I became your brother and you my sister—
The ones we had longed for and never had.
Until the day an embrace became something more,
And we filled the night with stories.
Then two fearful hearts mingled, birthing love.
We blessed and were blessed.
Wounds were healed and joy overflowed.
We’d found the impossible: a kindred spirit.

But Odin All-Father thundered his disapproval,
Falsely accusing me of every terrible evil,
Which cut us with subtle knives,
Until our hearts were rent—
Not by his hands, but yours.
I, chained, fell to my knees
As you turned your back to me with tear-filled eyes
And we said our final farewells.
The ground opened so I could go to Hel,
Where I remain in eternal darkness.

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Day 5: ‘I AM’

Today’s prompt was to write a cinquain (click the link to read what it is). It seems similar to a haiku to me. Anyway, I had to throw this together at the last second. It’s short and not very original, but I got it done. It stems from my Christian faith, perhaps drawing inspiration from the story of Moses and the burning bush. Admittedly, it could probably be longer. Regardless, enjoy!

I AM
By Nathan Marchand

 I AM.
That is my name.
Who will save my people?
With a strong hand, it will be I,
The LORD!

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Day 4: ‘Gunboat Diplomat’

Today’s prompt was to write a poem based on one of several bizarre names of spaceships from a certain authors books. I chose one that sounded cool, and decided to write a sci-fi poem. Enjoy!

Gunboat Diplomat
By Nathan Marchand

Come! And a tale you’ll hear
Of how the Second Great War ended
Thanks to a man the galaxy came to revere:
Henry Hawk, a scalawag to be commended.

Terrans and Zillans battled across the stars,
For reasons long forgotten, so do not ask why.
But the Terrans saw their planet covered with scars,
So they summoned Hawk, and to Zilla he did fly.

His ship, the Shrewd Serpent, was a rickety relic.
A starfaring gunboat that survived the First Great War,
And the perfect vessel for this snarky maverick
Who once served as a diplomat for the Terran AstroCorps.

Suddenly his ship decloaked in orbit of the Zillans’ homeworld,
And the lizards’ warships scrambled to intercept.
But Hawk, ever confident, never felt imperiled.
He opened a channel and gave the lizards a smile they couldn’t accept.

“The Terrans are tired of war,” says Hawk.
“I come to give you their offer of peace.
Their terms are fair, so you will not mock,
Though you glory in battle and will not cease.”

The lizard-king replied, “Slyth the war god demands victory!
For our enemies’ heads, he gives us his blood, redrock,
Which has powered our ships throughout our history.
So spare us your pathetic words, Hawk!”

So Hawk smirked, and with but a gesture,
The Serpent’s hidden guns opened fire,
Raining missiles on the Zillans’ redrock treasure,
And in seconds all that was left was a ring of hellfire.

Hawk says, “Your world will die if you continue to fight.
So before the Terran fleet comes, this war must end.
For without your ‘god’s’ blood, the Terrans won’t fear your might.
And you will have a legion of angry enemies with which to contend.”

So the lizard-king ended the war by declaring a truce,
And the Terran soldiers returned home to celebrate.
Though the Zillans demanded to see Hawk at the end of a noose,
They, like many others, learned he was a man not to underestimate.

Poetry

NaPoWriMo, Day 3: ‘Obsession’

Today’s prompt was to write a sea shanty, but I couldn’t come up with any ideas beyond writing a sci-fi one that took place in space rather than on the sea, so I’m skipping that one. However, I’m going to keep track of each prompt I skip and write a poem for it later.

So, for today, I wrote this little thing:

Obsession
By Nathan Marchand

She wants, she craves.
One act of kindness,
And she stalks him like a hunter,
Seized by a “love” that enslaves.

She worships him like a priestess,
Carving an idol of his image in her mind’s eye.
Flowery prayers, fragrant incense, and costly gifts she offers<
But dreams to give what above her short dress.

She digs in her claws
Once he finally acquiesces.
“My love is as perfect as him,”
She says, “For he has no flaws.”

Now her “god” is gone.
He left, destroying her idol.
But neither are left unscathed–
Such devotion they’ll never again know from hereon.

Uncategorized, Poetry

NaPoWriMo 2013, Day 2: ‘The Lie’

Today’s prompt was to write a poem that tells a lie. My poem does build to a lie, but it is a lie that some may not agree with since it stems from my Christian faith. Read on to see what I mean.

The Lie
By Nathan Marchand

There is no end to your evil.
You lie, you cheat, you steal,
You covet and kill,
Obeying my whispers in the darkness,
The silent coercion,
The subtle propaganda,
Which you believe you hear not.
Casualties of the invisible war, you are.
Slaves blissfully ignorant of your slavery,
And blinded to your master while doing his work,
Because you bought my greatest trick,
My most powerful lie:
That I, the Devil, don’t even exist.