Create Art Podcast

National Poetry Writing Month (also known as NaPoWriMo) is a creative writing project held annually in April in which participants attempt to write a poem each day for one month. NaPoWriMo coincides with the National Poetry Month in the United States of America and Canada.

NaPoWriMo, or National Poetry Writing Month, is an annual project in which participating poets attempt to write a poem a day for the month of April.

This website is owned and operated by Maureen Thorson, a poet living in Washington, DC. Inspired by NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month), she started writing a poem a day for the month of April back in 2003, posting the poems on her blog. When other people started writing poems for April, and posting them on their own blogs, Maureen linked to them. After a few years, so many people were doing NaPoWriMo that Maureen decided to launch an independent website for the project.

I started writing poetry in 1988 after I had been exposed to T.S. Elliot in my honors English class in high school. In 1992 I started reading my poetry publicly at Espesso Europia Coffee Shop in Abilene Tx while I was in the United States Air Force. This continued for many years when I ran my own poetry reading at Cannova's in Loves Park Illinois and attended the poetry slams at The green Mill in Chicago Illinois. While living in Rockford Illinois I published my first book of poetry Throwing Yourself at the Ground and Missing in 2007 followed by Postcards From Someone You Don't Know in 2008 Wisdom From the Sack in 2010 and Shaving Crop Circles In My Chest Hair in 2017. You can get copies of all of these books in my merch section. In 2009 I started participating in National Poetry Writing Month which became the basis for my book Wisdom From the Sack and Shaving Crop Circles in My Chest Hair. In 2020 I started publishing my podcast version of the challenge and those can be viewed here for 2020 and here for 2021.

And here’s our prompt (optional, as always). In certain versions of the classic fairytale Sleeping Beauty, various fairies or witches are invited to a princess’s christening, and bring her gifts. One fairy/witch, however, is not invited, and in revenge for the insult, lays a curse on the princess. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem in which you muse on the gifts you received at birth — whether they are actual presents, like a teddy bear, or talents – like a good singing voice – or circumstances – like a kind older brother, as well as a “curse” you’ve lived with (your grandmother’s insistence on giving you a new and completely creepy porcelain doll for every birthday, a bad singing voice, etc.). I hope you find this to be an inspiring avenue for poetic and self-exploration.

He Must be Born with It

29 April 2022

As I stand in the back of the room

Fiending for another smoke

I feel every emotion coming from the poets

Some of them are younger than my socks

Others share their experiences that I have no reference to

Yet I come back week after week

Like they say to do in the meetings

Where we just share our first names

I’ve always been able to empathize with most anyone

So much so I take on their struggle

Without being asked

Or wanted

Because I’ve felt since day 1

That I have to be the sacrificial lamb

Fending for myself

With parents who would rather drink

Than take care of their children

I stand outside, alone

Flicking ashes to the ground

Field stripping the butts

And the young poets come up to me

Asking how they did

Asking if I heard their latest piece

Quizzing me on their content

Giving them the wisdom that has been bestowed on me

Through years of searching

And I pass along to them the torch

Freshly lit with their energy and inquisitiveness

Praying they have a better life than what I was given

Knowing the predators that lurk just around the corner

I try to protect them and provide them

With an example of what I have done that works

And what I have done that doesn’t

This is all I can give the next generations

The benefit of my experience

It’s a precious gift that I wish I had ...

What is National Poetry Writing Month?

Welcome, art enthusiasts and wordsmiths alike, to another episode of Create Art Podcast! We are diving headfirst into the enchanting world of poetry as we celebrate National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). This annual event, which takes place every April, encourages poets and aspiring writers around the globe to embrace their creativity and commit to writing a poem each day for the entire month.

The Beauty of National Poetry Writing Month:

NaPoWriMo, similar to its prose-centric counterpart National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), is a celebration of the written word and the boundless creativity that can flow when one dedicates themselves to a daily practice. Poets of all levels of expertise are invited to take part, from seasoned wordsmiths to those just dipping their toes into the vast ocean of verse.

Create Art Podcast has always been a haven for artists to share their creative processes, and NaPoWriMo offers a unique opportunity for poets to reflect on their craft. With a daily commitment to producing poetry, participants discover new facets of their writing style, experiment with various forms, and explore uncharted emotional territories.

Prompt for today

Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a platonic love poem. In other words, a poem not about a romantic partner, but some other kind of love – your love for your sister, or a friend, or even your love for a really good Chicago deep dish pizza. The poem should be written directly to the object of your affections (like a letter is written to “you”), and should describe at least three memories of you engaging with that person/thing.

Poem for Today

When You Found Me

2 April 24

When you found me

I was at the ripe old age of 19

Didn’t know my ass from a hole in the ground

And some days I feel the same

When I walked into that coffee shop in Abilene Texas

And I still live there in my mind

You welcomed me

Gave me a start on my journey

Made sure My Favorite Things played

In that dust bowl of a town

Where I thought I had landed on Mars

And the civilization I had encountered before

Didn't prepare me for what was ahead

When you found me again

As I was driving all over my hometown of Screw City

Getting high 13 times a day

I sat there with an old friend

Whose feet stank of bad cheese

Who didn’t have enough money to pay for electricity

Who had a god that he followed religiously

Whose sister was my next conquest

You stood by me and made sure my car didn’t kill anyone

Including me

You and my old friend listened to my rantings

As I read books from other madmen

And found that you had found them as well

And I wanted to emulate them

In hopes you would cradle me in your warmth

When you found me next

I was still on the weed

And I handed you over to my nephew

In hopes he would surpass me

In hopes he wouldn’t have to struggle as much

In hopes he would be able to handle the dragon raging on the inside

You found him, but he was too young

And had others finding him

Helping him tell his story

Accompanying him through his journey

And now in the mornings when he sleeps in after driving around all night

I invoke you to slip into his brain and provide some sort of relief

When you found me for the first time

Before the coffee shops

Before the weed

Before the searching amongst the madmen for sanity

I listened to you in the dark

Not knowing what I was hearing

But feeling something was there

Rebelling against the circumstances that I lived through

You spoke no words to me

But you prepared me for what I am today

And for where the journey would take me

Letting me know there were other paths that I would not follow

Until further down the road

A kid, in his bedroom

Headphones on

Listening to your murmurs

That I listen to every night

Calming my fears

Calming my mind

And when I need you, you are always there

Closer than lovers

Closer than real friends

When you found me

Sitting in the middle of the night with my newly born children

I let them listen to your soft voice

In that hospital room with an exhausted wife

I gave you entrance

Because you were the only one, I would entrust with what had been entrusted to me

And I relish the day that I see in my mind's eye

When my children sit at my feet

And listen with intent to the sounds without words

To the feelings you allow me to feel

And...