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MiSkriBa 2026 - An kensa seythen

 Dy' da oll!

Mis Skrifa Bardhonieth (MiSkriBa) re dhallathas unweyth arta! Yn hwir y tallathas nans yw seythen war galan Ebrel (dell yw usys). Byttele rag moy a dermyn dhymm dhe skrifa ha gwellhe ow ober hevlena, ny wrav vy postya saw unweyth an seythen gen an promptys ha'n bardhonogow. Ynwedh, yth esov vy ow tevnydhya diw bennfenten a bromptys hevlena, NaPoWriMo ha'n Poetry Society - hemm a ront dhymm termyn ha le gwell rag awen ha skrifa (my a gollas ethen warlena awos nyns o da genev an promptys wosa termyn).
 
Wosa leverel henna oll, a-woles yma ow hensa seyth bardhonek rag MiSkriBa 2026. - Merkyewgh bos pub bardhonek skrifys yn Kernowek yn terowel, ytho martesen ny wra'n treylyansow Sowsnek styrya'n keth tra ha rewlys an prompt.
 
National Poetry Writing Month has started again! Actually, it started a week ago on the first of April (as per usual). However, so that I have more time to write and hone my work this year, I will only be posting once a week with the prompts and poems. Also, I'm using two sources of promts this year, NaPoWriMo and The Poetry Society - this allows me to a little more choice and room for inspiration when writing (last year I lost steam as I wasn't too keen on many of the prompts).
 
Having said all of that, below are my first 7 poems for NaPoWriMo 2026. - Note, all poems were written in Kernowek initially, so the English translations may not allign exactly with the rules of the prompt.


Dydh Mergher, kalan Ebrel 2026 Wednesday, the first of April 2026

Prompt - tanka (NaPoWriMo)

An hosik a neuv
Dell wrug ev a-dhia'n jydh
May teuth dh'ort an oy.
Evy a neuv treweythyow,
Wosa dyski y sedhav. 
 
The duckling flies
As it has done since the day
It came from the egg.
I fly sometimes,
After learning I sink. 

 

Dydh Yow, an nessa a vis Ebrel 2026 Thursday, the second of April 2026 

Prompt - flogholeth / childhood (NaPoWriMo)

An rin, hag ow dewgerens 

yn kosk, hag ow broder ow hunrosa

a goncertos hweg, hag an ki ha'n kathes

ow pewa bewnansow an nos, hag ow fellwolok

ow kolya a estyllennow ughel.

 

Dewynnyans hy golow glaswynn a bobas

dhe'm dewlagas, hag an linen wer

ow kotthe'n skav, ha nebhuni

ow sevel hag ygeri daras

an privedhyow. Ow nivera hwes gen

betyans ow holon: drypp, drypp, 

drypp y gan ha my owth assaya

redya diwweusyow ha klowes

kanow a-ugh dhe bopp 

an gowsoryon, a-ugh dhe arm

ow anal kott, a-ugh dhe grash

kreghyn an lagas.

 

An taw a skrijyas

hag evy yn-dann lien an gweli,

tron ow mires dre doll y'n gweth.


Diskwedhans doblek fugieth gwir

dhiskwedhas dhymm fethow gwir

ha liwyow most a'm desedh

yn pur dha.


The secret, as my parents

slept, as my brother dreamt 

of sweet concertos, as the dog and cats

lived the lives of the night, as my television

kept watch from high shelves.

 

The radiation of its bright blue light baked

into my eyes, as the green line

quickly shortened, as someone

awoke and opened the door

of the toilet. Counting sweat with

the beat of my heart: drip, drip

drip its song as I tried 

to read pairs of lips and hear

songs above the pop

of the speakers, above the call

of short breath, above the crash

of eyelids. 

 

The silence screamed

and I was under the covers,

a nose peering through a hole in the sheet.


Queer fiction double feature

showed me true facts

and colours of dirt suit me

so very well.

Dydh Gwener, an tressa a vis Ebrel 2026 Friday, the third of April 2026 

Prompt - Galwesigeth Dhyffrans / A Different Profession (NaPoWriMo)

Yma va ow tyski geryow

dhe'n lyvrow kosel,

ow tiskwedhes niverow

rag an reknell.


Ny lever skians gow vyth

yn kander an faktys.

An gwella fordh vydh

dyski heb klassys.



He’s teaching words

to the peaceful books,

showing numbers

to the calculator.


Knowledge never tells a lie

in the light of facts.

The best way will be

teaching without classes.

Dydh Sadorn, an pesworra a vis Ebrel 2026 Saturday, the fourth of April 2026 

Prompt - Hwarvos Kewer / A Weather Phenomenom (NaPoWriMo)

Banaghow rudh

a godh 'vel plobm,

ha goos eledh

ow kasa nabm.


Ny wort godhes

yn avon horn,

y gonvedhes

yw natur own.

Red drops

fall like lead,

as angels’ blood

leave a stain.


Sediment does not wait

in the iron river,

understanding it

is the nature of fear.

 

Dydh Sul, an pympes a vis Ebrel 2026 Sunday, the fifth of April 2026 

Prompt - Kasans / Hatred (NaPoWriMo)

Kas yw genev segha, wosa kowas klys ha brav,

An ayr oor ow pratha ha'n gols kala glyb, yw gwell bos plos hwath? 

 

I hate drying off, after a cosy and pleasant shower,

The freezing air biting and strawlike hair so wet, is it better to stay dirty?

 

 

Dydh Lun, an hweghves a vis Ebrel 2026 Monday, the sixth of April 2026 

Prompt - Kroaduryon / Ceatures (The Poetry Society)

yn lent



 y fov

 


  ow kravas

   


   orth pikslys



      pub movyans 

          paynus


                  ow tenna lagas


                      a-dreus

                             dhe'n skrin

                                    yn patron

                                         darganadow


                                                                syns anal

                                                                hag y nes

                                                                            avel polter has

                                                                ow trevesiga

                                                                yn town ynnos   

                                                                         y'n hav 

                                                                                 tros vyth

                                                                 syns anal


                                   dha gachya

                                            yw hwans

                                                     an kroadur

lent


mes 

  yn lent            

     y teu

       ha pan 

         nyns os 

                  war                                                                                                              y'th kach

                                                                                                   

                                                                      ha bratha 

                                                                  gen poyntyans sogh


                                                                                            unweyth 

a-gledh

                                                                                            lemmyn

                                                                                                                                  a-dhyghow

             ow treusi 

                                                               hag 

                                                                                                 ow treusi

                                                                  y'th shynd

yn lent

                                       gen gwayans 

                                                 chonsus


an kroadur 


                                                                     lent

                                                                     dell os.

                              

 

slowly



 it moves

 


  clawing

   


   at pixels



      each painful 

          movement


                  draws the eye


                      across

                             the screen

                                    in a predictable

                                         pattern


                                                                hold a breath

                                                                as it nears

                                                                            like pollen

                                                                settling

                                                                deep within you   

                                                                         in the summer 

                                                                                 no sound

                                                                 hold a breath


                                   catching you

                                            is the wish

                                                     of the slow

creature


but

  slowly          

     it comes

       and when

         you aren't 

                  aware                                                                                                              it catches you

                                                                                                   

                                                                      and bites 

                                                                  with blunt punctuation


                                                                                            once

on the left

                                                                                            now

                                                                                                                                 on the right

             crossing 

                                                               and

                                                                                                 crossing

                                                                  it hurts you

slowly

                                       with random 

                                                 movement


the slow


                                                                     creature

                                                                     that you are.



                                                                          

 

Dydh Meurth, an seythves a vis Ebrel 2026 Tuesday, the seventh of April 2026 

Prompt - Rim Terlemmel / A Skipping Rhyme (NaPoWriMo)

Den plos,

kach an flogh,

kemer ev dhe'n nevow.


Den plos,

kudh an gwir

y'n kelli owraval.


Den plos,

blam an tir,

kleudh ragdho y vedhros.


Den plos,

lonch an bomm,

ladh skav oll an bobel.


Den plos,

kerys os,

deus ha junya'n korfow.




Gross man,

catch the kid,

take him up to heaven.


Gross man,

hide the truth

in the orange grove.


Gross man,

blame the land,

dig for it a grave site.


Gross man,

launch the bomb,

quickly kill the people.


Gross man,

you are loved,

come and join the bodies.

 


 

 

 

 

 

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