by Holly Jahangiri | Apr 23, 2026
Day 21: National Poetry Month
Unruly calendar of mixed up days… More like “U” is the 21st letter of the alphabet. Today is the 23rd day of National Poetry Month and this will be my 24th post – so, yeah, cattywumpus ought to be the word of the day. And despite what Merriam-Webster has to say about it, that is my preferred dialectical spelling variant.
I actually had no idea what the origin and definition of the word was, when I used it in my last post. I have always used it, and heard it used, in its second sense: askew, awry, catercornered. It “probably” comes from the word “catamount,” which takes its origins from “cat-a-mountain” and refers to any of a number of wildcats. So, I suppose “cattywumpus” is as good a spelling as any and well describes what a room might look like if you trapped a mountain lion in it.
Speaking of colorful, regional words and phrases, I thought of another one, yesterday afternoon, while walking in the park with a friend. Storms surrounded us, but we were confident that we could get in a round or two—each one being 1.7 miles—before the rain drove us to shelter. As we walked, bright patches of blue appeared between the clouds and wedged enough space for sunshine to hold the rain at bay. My grandmother used to say that if there was “enough blue to make a Dutchman’s breeches” then it wouldn’t rain. I told my friend this, and for the first time ever, I thought to examine the origins of a phrase that I’d thought was just a quaint, Southern colloquialism.
But apparently, the phrase dates to the 1600s! See the following for some fascinating details and side-alleys down the rabbit hole:
Dutch sailors during the Anglo-Dutch Naval Wars of the 17th century wore wide-legged, baggy trousers. So the saying goes that if there was enough blue sky to patch a pair, the cloud cover was breaking up enough and meant good weather to come.
Unruly
Who’d dare to skin a cat that’s gone a-wumpus,
or drive a bull, unruly, from a china shop?
They’d say that it’s a Herculean task, and yet
only one intrepid soul can tame—no other—
a tantrum’s tempest, willful wild rumpus
twisting like an eight-legged octopod
tornado in a bag. Fiercely firm but gently set…
Her name, as you must surely know, is Mother.
Other National Poetry Month Posts
Your Turn!
by Holly Jahangiri | Apr 20, 2026
Day 20: National Poetry Month
Some of us struggle to write a poem a day, or to post regularly on our blogs every week for a month. Fiction Monday passed a huge milestone, this week, celebrating 300 weeks of prompts and inspiration! In my friend Vinitha Dileep’s honor, the word of the day is “Tenacious.” Her word for this week’s Fiction Monday prompt was “resolve.”
Tenacious
Tenacious roots resolve with tiny toes
and tender claws to cling to crumbling
walls. Old bricks and faded stuccos
yield. A resting spot where songbirds sing—
bright-winged wildflowers on the vine—
perk up the sagging old façade
and hug it tight, its fragile bones to bind.
Lopsided windows grin; none think it odd.
Such houses dot the countryside
where children laughed and church bells chimed
where still they stand while earth abides—
slow, patient nature takes its time.
Other National Poetry Month Posts
Your Turn!
You may have noticed that the dates these posts are posted don’t always match the dates of the prompts or the proper order of the Blogging A to Z Challenge. A “nature” poem was the WD prompt for Day 22 – Earth Day. And this is April 23, technically. Everything is cattywumpus! But I have always believed in adhering to the spirit of the day, if not the letter of the day.
If you are taking part in the Blogging A to Z Challenge, how is it going? (I know we’re supposed to take Sundays off, but they’re usually my “catch-up days.” This year, every day is a “catch up” or “get ahead” day.
If not, I hope you’re enjoying the posts here. Enough to leave me a comment, maybe?
by Holly Jahangiri | Apr 20, 2026
Day 19: National Poetry Month
Prompts include flowers, family, persona poems, and “No _____” Don’t tempt me with facile and childish responses, like “Flowers need fertilizer. No sh–”
I remember making a terrarium, once. This was probably during the houseplant craze of the 1970s. I had some hanging plants – mostly of the hard-to-kill variety, like asparagus fern and tradescantia zebrini. Shefflera, jade, a withering African violet, too, I’m sure.
Our yard was bordered on one side by a sunny yellow forsythia hedge and bisected, in the back, by white and purple lilacs. Flowering trees – redbud, pear, and apple – also thrived. In the front, we had tulips. My mother loved tulips and planted rows and rows of bulbs each spring.
Hothouse Flowers, Whispering of Death
No hand to guide them towards the sun,
the gardener’s gone, neglecting them.
Each slender stem, with thought and care
selected, serves as double agent—
emissary of despair.
Blush sprigs of oleander shade
soft sphagnum moss and yellow coltsfoot,
tucked within the killing confines
of a glass terrarium
sealed tight with lilac tears.
Other National Poetry Month Posts
Your Turn!
Do you enjoy gardening? Do your plants stay outside, or do you let them in the house? Are they wild and weedy or well-behaved? Have you ever made a terrarium?
by Holly Jahangiri | Apr 20, 2026
Day 18: National Poetry Month
Words like rest, relaxation, recreation sprang to mind. But after watering wilting houseplants and venturing out into a light rain for lunch, now sitting here listening to the steady, rhythmic, head-pounding percussion of droplets against the metal chimney, the word “renewal” elbowed its way to into my forehead.
“Stop knocking,” I moaned. Some of the pain stems from the fact that I whacked my head on the doorframe of my car last night after a nice, long walk in the park with a friend. Exercise is good. Drinking water during a hike is important. Being able to bend my body low enough to miss the doorframe and not give myself a concussion, complete with tweety birds? That would’ve been amazing.
Well, one out of three goals accomplished – five miles down. As for the concussion? Who knows – I – I woke up this morning so I’m going to call that a win.
I told Erin Penn I was going to quote her, and this seems an appropriate time:
“If you eat 100% of the grain, there is nothing to plant for the next harvest. Keep something back so you can grow.”
Today’s prompts include “high/low” and the words:
- At the speed of darkness
- Muscle
- Isolated entities
I have taken Erin’s advice and held a bit in reserve for later.
Never the Twain Shall Meet
Apex and nadir, entities
isolated, suspended
within the teeming middle ground
of average, ordinary
mediocrity—rendered
toothless and benign.
Matter, antimatter—light
at the speed of darkness—
opposites attract. Membranous
muscled center shrinks,
squished.
Shapeless.
Safe.
Other National Poetry Month Posts
Your Turn!
What are the highs and lows of your week, so far?
Do you think opposites attract or drive each other farther apart?
by Holly Jahangiri | Apr 20, 2026
Day 16/17: National Poetry Month
Vince Gotera pointed out to me, a few days ago, that I could no longer count or recite the alphabet in order. Last time that happened was in college, when I briefly worked in the Library – after hours of shelving books by Library of Congress numbers, I completely lost the ability to count or recite the alphabet and lost myself somewhere in the basement reading books I was supposed to be shelving. The truth is, I was trying to keep up, here, but I was also enjoying a little “getaway” with my husband in Corpus Christi, Port Aransas, and the Padre Island National Seashore. I gave up trying to keep up, so now it’s time to catch up with “Q” and the first words that came to mind became today’s poem.
The Quintessential Querulous Quartet
They were the “Quintessential Querulous Quintet”:
together in the womb and on the concert stage
they played discordant melodies on which they bet
uncertain, murky futures for a meager wage.
Sometimes, they wished to fly through life a solo act —
to leave their squabbling siblings in the feathered nest —
yet long ago these five musicians made a pact,
though it kill them, they would die “Belligerent Best.”
Other National Poetry Month Posts
I have made nineteen posts this month. I’m not that far behind. Okay, I’ll stop being querulous about it.
Your Turn!
Have you ever had a job you almost enjoyed, but found to be a terrible fit?
I’m an only child, so today’s poem was an invention out of thin air. Those of you with siblings – can you relate to it? If not, have you ever found yourself stubbornly determined to finish something you started, even though you have a feeling it might kill you (literally or figuratively)?
