I wasn't too inspired by the prompt at the official NaPoWriMo site today, so I just wrote a free verse of my own.
I was reading a book of poetry by Paul Zaller today. He wrote a quite a few poems about war. I like to reflect when I read poetry, sort of see where my thoughts take me. The year 1969 came up in one of the poems and I thought to myself, 'that would have been in some previous life for me.' And thus, this poem was born.
I Was Once Some Other Woman
Somewhere there is a cozy room,
it holds fresh linen and smells of cedar.
There's a paint-chipped window sill
behind the sink where the breeze used
to blow my evening candles asleep.
A classic 50's cooler is nestled in the corner,
metal ice-trays ready to clink their
ready-made cubes against the smooth bodies
of one another over late-dinner drinks.
The paint on the walls is faded
and the linoleum is peeling near the edges,
but love lives behind it's lose corners
for there's an old red cooler on the porch
waiting for summer, and some wading
boots worn by a man I loved.
I cannot remember the bend of his neck,
nor the tan clasp of his gentle hands, those
details are closed behind the closet of my mind,
each moment a brilliant stroke of color,
the complete experience a mere
fine-detailed painting and, dip as I may,
my fingers into bowls-full of acrylic,
whole worlds of color and possibility all their own,
I cannot properly reassemble the picture
of fists-full of babies breath, a house on
the edge of a green-blue moor,
his hands in my hair, my head on his chest.