NaPoWriMo 2016 Day 4


April Math Fun

Free Verse! Wait…What?

April is the cruelest month
Poet accosted by math
Working on rhyme and meter
Stress every other syllable
Is there any rhyme or reason?

April is the cruelest month
Poet takes a crooked path
No perfect rhyme to greet her
She adds lines, padding billable
Free verse! Wait…what?
After all it is tax season

Happy square root day! AKA the Little One’s birthday. She got the lovely shirt above and as luck would have it, a new Doctor Who book with the 11th Doctor, Amy and Rory. Of course if I could bill by the line, maybe her 11th birthday poem would work better. We had a pretty good tax season this year. Not only did we get a refund, we won $1,000. 😀 All because our oldest wanted to get her FAFSA in as soon as possible.

NaPoWriMo Prompt – In his poem “The Wasteland,” T.S. Eliot famously declared that “April is the cruelest month.” But is it? I’d have thought February. Today I challenge you to write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruelest month, and why. Perhaps it’s September, because kids have to go back to school. Or January, because the holidays are over and now you’re up to your neck in snow. Or maybe it’s a month most people wouldn’t think of (like April), but which you think of because of something that’s happened in your life. Happy (or, if not happy, not-too-cruel) writing!

Hot Summer Days – Prose Poem

Dog days of summer… August enters hot, humid, sticky. Time to stretch out in the sun except summer days have drawn to an end. School is back in session. Students trudge down to the bus stop as the sun beats down taunting them. In the afternoon no time to dip toes in the pool. Algebra is calling. Pi…not the sweet strawberry rhubarb kind tantalizing taste buds. A number in a mathematical equation – A equals pi squared in August when the temperature is 110. Teachers blow hot air about circles. Students dream about pi with an e a la mode. Ahhh…Hot Summer Days.


How Writers Write Poetry exercise 12 my attempt at a prose poem. Apparently Gretchen’s math class is already working with pi. We had a discussion a couple nights ago about why 3.14 is the only decimal number with a name. As far as we know anyhow. And why pi? Of course, I’m a poet not a mathematician. Mom is little help in these conversations. Maybe Aunt Kati knows.