Poem Day 24: Ice Helm


I am not like god

I do not create, devour and recreate

Purely, I exist, simply because I do

I go dreamlike across this sea

Traversing fickle waters

As those before me did

Thrashing about the white caps of waves

Sailing forward, ever forward

Toward the horizon, without excursion

I am not the captain of this ship

Yet, it is I who stands at the ice helm

Without skill I navigate

Around the floating masses of ice

Bumping into the floes, now and again

Jostling to and fro

Whites of my knuckles

Gripping the steer

Belying my stoic stance which

Hides my ignorance


*I actually wrote this poem up yesterday, but did not have time to type it up and post it.

napo2013button1Today I’d like you to think about words buried in words. In particular, think about the words buried in your own name. Plug your name into an anagram generator, like this one, and try writing a self-portrait poem using words that are generated.

The anagram generator came up with some crazy stuff. I went with Ice Helm and wrote up this poem as a quasi-autobiography of how I feel most of my life has unfolded up until now, I also used the meanings of my first and last names in the words of the poem.