NAPOWRIMO DAY #10

Today’s prompt:
In our case, writing inside out (or outside in) means setting your physical or metaphorical inner bits out of doors, to be walked around and looked at from odd angles, as if they were monuments or mailboxes (as an example). Or it could be transforming your internal organs into flowers or letting a pack of four-year-old’s (human or otherwise) loose in your attic.

Write a poem today that illustrates your idea of what is inside-out.

Post your poem to comments!

Reminders
Read the NaPoWriMo Challenge Kickoff post for details on how the challenge works and how you can participate this month, no matter what your personal writing challenge is for the month of April.

Please read this page to find out how the prompt posts work. Remember that work shared this month is shared in precisely that spirit: sharing, as opposed to critiquing.

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Posted on April 10, 2013, in NaPoWriMo. Bookmark the permalink. 3 Comments.

  1. tamarlilienthal

    Inside out-
    Crazy,
    Not in order,
    Out of bounds,
    Strange,
    Deformed,
    Abnormal,
    Odd.

    Inside out-
    Fun,
    Interesting,
    Intriguing,
    Exciting,
    Funky,
    Enjoyable,
    Let loose.

    Inside out-
    A bouncy ball?
    Or a mini model of Jupiter?
    A sheet of paper?
    Or a chance for self-expression?
    A boring poem?
    Or a life-changing message?

  2. Is What It Is

    I take a step back
    And separate myself
    From preconceived notions
    About everyone else

    I try to look at it all
    From odd and different angles
    Gain a new perspective
    Beneath all that’s tangled

    I’m upside down
    With blood rushing to my head
    Upside right’s more normal
    But I quite like this instead

    I’m seeing things differently
    Than I ever did before
    Not everything’s so practical
    And I like it almost more

    There’s really no box
    You could label it all under
    It just is what it is
    Leaving us to wonder

  3. I walk up my grandmother’s stairs,
    I tell her, “I’ll only stay a bit.”
    I’m thinking of what could be up there,
    I try my key in her attic door, a perfect fit!

    I cough, startling the dust.
    I glance around at the piles of boxes,
    Wondering where to start…
    A book, a painting of beautiful foxes.
    I reach my hands out, as I stumble in the dark.

    Now I normally don’t let others influence me,
    But today… I think I’m ready to open myself up.
    Be awake, be curious, be open, and be free.
    I’m determined to let the outside in.

    I walk over to a big, promising box,
    I open it too see my grandparents,
    Surrounded by a hen and a couple cocks.
    I didn’t realize they used to live on a farm…

    I pull out a scrap book,
    I can tell it was the work of my grandma.
    It’s her old yearbook, I think I’ll have a look…
    There’s a beautiful girl with no makeup, I know it’s Grandma

    Maybe I should be like that, real and not fake
    We are beautiful just the way we are,
    Without slathering on makeup like icing on a cake.
    Makeup is fine, but we don’t need to look plastic.

    I reach in the box again, seeing a wedding dress,
    The dress my mother wore, and my grandmother before that.
    If it were to be sold, on the market today, it would be a lot less,
    But they wouldn’t see it that way. To them it’s a work of art.

    And maybe I think that too. I mean, I am expected to wear it,
    At first glance, I wasn’t sure…
    But now, seeing it again, I sure hope it’ll fit.
    The dress has so much history, it’s hard to ignore.
    I’ll be proud to wear this dress, when the time comes for me.
    On my wedding day, I’ll be glad to walk the down the isle,
    Even in a dress that comes way below the knee.

    I place the items back in the box, and stand up.
    If I were to go further, I know I’d find more,
    Maybe about Grandpa, and his childhood.
    But I stop, not knowing what’s in store,
    I’ll save it all for next week, when I can look longer.

    I walk to the door, glancing again at the mysteries unknown.
    I put my key in the lock, and back out into the hallway.
    I hear a ring, I look, I have a call coming in on my phone,
    “Emily? Is everything alright at my mom’s?”

    I smile and answer, “Just fine.”
    I say goodbye to Grandma, and head out the door.
    I look back at her, so glad that she’s mine.
    Looking forward to next time I let the outside in.

    hI walk up my grandmother’s stairs,
    I tell her, “I’ll only stay a bit.”
    I’m thinking of what could be up there,
    I try my key in her attic door, a perfect fit!

    I cough, startling the dust.
    I glance around at the piles of boxes,
    Wondering where to start…
    A book, a painting of beautiful foxes.
    I reach my hands out, as I stumble in the dark.

    Now I normally don’t let others influence me,
    But today… I think I’m ready to open myself up.
    Be awake, be curious, be open, and be free.
    I’m determined to let the outside in.

    I walk over to a big, promising box,
    I open it too see my grandparents,
    Surrounded by a hen and a couple cocks.
    I didn’t realize they used to live on a farm…

    I pull out a scrap book,
    I can tell it was the work of my grandma.
    It’s her old yearbook, I think I’ll have a look…
    There’s a beautiful girl with no makeup, I know it’s Grandma

    Maybe I should be like that, real and not fake
    We are beautiful just the way we are,
    Without slathering on makeup like icing on a cake.
    Makeup is fine, but we don’t need to look plastic.

    I reach in the box again, seeing a wedding dress,
    The dress my mother wore, and my grandmother before that.
    If it were to be sold, on the market today, it would be a lot less,
    But they wouldn’t see it that way. To them it’s a work of art.

    And maybe I think that too. I mean, I am expected to wear it,
    At first glance, I wasn’t sure…
    But now, seeing it again, I sure hope it’ll fit.
    The dress has so much history, it’s hard to ignore.
    I’ll be proud to wear this dress, when the time comes for me.
    On my wedding day, I’ll be glad to walk the down the isle,
    Even in a dress that comes way below the knee.

    I place the items back in the box, and stand up.
    If I were to go further, I know I’d find more,
    Maybe about Grandpa, and his childhood.
    But I stop, not knowing what’s in store,
    I’ll save it all for next week, when I can look longer.

    I walk to the door, glancing again at the mysteries unknown.
    I put my key in the lock, and back out into the hallway.
    I hear a ring, I look, I have a call coming in on my phone,
    “Emily? Is everything alright at my mom’s?”

    I smile and answer, “Just fine.”
    I say goodbye to Grandma, and head out the door.
    I look back at her, so glad that she’s mine.
    Looking forward to next time I let the outside in.

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