It’s National Poetry month and here’s my version of it

truth

It’s April again and it’s not only spring that is in bloom but also the creativity that goes along with it. And of course, it’s national Poetry month and every year since 2022 I try to participate in NaPoWrimo which is an activity where I write a poem a day and post it on my blog. I use prompts from this website for inspiration: https://www.napowrimo.net/ and as always I’m excited to see what crazy poems I come up with. Last year my favorite poem was a spicy one I wrote about Yung Gravy that I ended up performing at open mic.

my forever muse

Also, this year, I decided to give y’all my own original prompts to inspire y’all. Feel free to send me your poem and I’ll post it on my blog or you can just keep it in between the pages of your journal. I had a goal last year that I would post my own prompts for National Poetry Month and here we are. So here are prompts that I wrote sometime in early 2022. Here’s my contact info where you can email me or dm me your poem.

Hope y’all get inspired. And for my bilingual Spanish speaking baddies, I got another set of Spanish Prompts here:https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12443

An immigrant love song (swan song)

Privilege and luxury 

A letter to my current muse

A letter to my future muse

What’s worth my time 

Intergenerational trauma

Fairytale

The drug that is love 

Writing is my lifeline 

To my next victim 

The work blues 

The accident 

My chosen family 

Not enough time

Maybe I owe you an apology 

The truth.com

Love looks like…

he killer of dreams

Exposure therapy 

Destined for madness

Dancing

Don’t fall in love with me

Forgiving my younger self 

My happiest moments 

Searching for calm 

I knew this was gonna hurt 

Distorted reality 

Death must feel better than this

I know how this story ends

Cover me with lies

What is the cure for a broken soul?

find your muse, look in the mirror

poetry: ruffles and pastels

I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

always such a ham

mami dressed me up in ruffles and pastels whenever she could
I’d swirled and twirled in my dress until I got dizzy
loved when everyone told me, “ay que bonita te miras”
and I awkwardly bowed, smiled, and hid
sashayed to every single one of my relatives
and did the same thing
it’s one of the few times I remembered being vain as a child
one of the few times I didn’t feel weird and like an outcast
external validation learned at the tender age of 8