MiSkriBa 2026 - An nessa rann

 Yow oll,

 

Ottomma ow nessa seyth bardhonek rag MiSkriBa 2026!

Here are my next seven poems for NaPoWriMo 2026! 

Dydh Mergher, an ethves a vis Ebrel 2026 Wednesday, the eighth of April 2026

Prompt - Kevambos Tybel / Abstract Contract (Poetry Society)

Kevambos Ownhenjeth.

Obma y teklarir ownhenjeth Sam Ruane-Brown, a-lebma rag kreiys 'an bardh'. 

An bardh a ajon y ownhenjeth hag ow teskrifa'n bes may tesedh. 

Hebma a styr: usya y amovyansow own y honan rag dielvedna hag onderstondya eksperyansow, tybyansow po neb elven awednek aral (owth eskeas hunrosow dre happ); ynwedh y styr bos res dhe'n bardh usya yeth onderstondadow hag ow korra en geryow an amovyansow kenstochyes, po skrifys po kowsys. Na vedh alowys geryow gwres marnas aga bos belskondyes ha honanhwagradow. 

An bardh a wra gweles ha goi hwarvosow an bes en skav dhe surhe nynj esons chanjyes gen an kelgh nowodhow a-lebmyn kens bos dyllys an ober. Mar chanj drolla dalleth an awen, res a vedh dhe'n bardh y janjya delergh dre nerth po neb maynys ken. 

An ownhenjeth a omdhiskwedh obma a wra rei kubmyas dhe'n bardh performya en tylleryow tardhek po henfondyes, bes res ew dhe'n bardh omwiska en fordh wew rag an woslowysi bresont. Byth na wra person ownhenjek gwiska kolmen bleg, na fors y dybyansow po krejanjow y honan.

An kevambos a res ma a alow an bardh dhe wruthyl pe par penag a ober a vydnir, hedre vo alinyes gen agwedhow erel an kevambos ma ha nynj ew en fordh kan Taylor Swift. En kas vyth na ell an bardh lawl gow, ha res dhodho mos dhe worsav an kreslu en tidro mar nynj ew apert y ownhenjeth. Woja bos kevys kablus, y fedh kreiys 'mirer' ha byth na vedh alowys dhe skrifa arta. 

Na vir bardh hepken, en le ev a brocess ha stubma ha chanjya gwirvos dhe savla ken rag treia gwul le gwell a'n bes beghus ma. Ha hedna oll dre holya rewlys sempel res en an kevambos ma.

A vardh, mars esowgh hwath ena: bedhewgh ownhenjek; bedhewgh gwir; bedhewgh. 

Sinyes: SRB 08 Ebrel 2026

A Contract of Integrity.

This document hereby declares the integrity of Sam Ruane-Brown, henceforth known as 'the poet'. 

The poet aknowledges his integrity when describing the world in which he finds himself. 

This means: using his own proper emotions to analyse and understand experiences, thoughts or any other inspirational element (random dreams notwithstanding); likewise it means that the poet must use understandable language when putting in words those aforementioned emotions, whther written or spoken. Made up words will not be allowed unless they are perfiscribed and selfsonidrated.

The poet will see and digest experiences of the world quickly to ensure they are not changed by the current news cycle before the work is published. If the initial story of inspiration changes, the poet must change it back by force or any other means.

The integrity shown here will give the poet permission to perform in pop-up or long established settings, however the poet must wear appropriate clothing for the present audience. No integral person will ever wear a bow tie, no matter his own ideas or beliefs.

This obligatory contract allows the poet to create whatever type of work desired, as long as it aligns with the other conditions of this contract and does not take the form of a Taylor Swift song. In no case whatsoever may the poet tell a lie, and he must go to a police station forthwith if his integrity is not apparent. After being found guilty, he will be called a 'watcher' and never allowed to write again.

 

A poet does not just watch, instead he processes and warps and changes reality to a different point of view to try and make a better place of this burdonsome world. And all this by following the simple rules given in this contract. 

Dear poet, if you are still there: be integral, be true, be. 

Signed: SRB 08 April 2026

Dydh Yow, an nawves a vis Ebrel 2026 Thursday, the ninth of April 2026

Prompt - A Savla Best / From an Animal's Point of View (NaPoWriMo)

Tynder tochadow  An dowr yw splann kyn fo va oor, leun a buskes ha morviles, ha skathow koynt, ha lagasow hir a vir  hag a vir orth an dowr. An ayr yw brav kyn fo va oor, trigva ydhyn ha kloudys, hag ayrennow skav, ha lagasow hir a vir  hag a vir orth an ayr.  An men yw teg kyn fo va oor, tyller golya hag omhowla, ha byldyansow meur, ha lagasow hir a vir hag a vir orth an men. Bestes an tir a vov yn snell hag i ow hastya  dhe boyntya orth travyth  y'n dowr, y'n ayr,  war an men, gen panyk. Yma nown dhymm, ytho y sedhav a'n men der an ayr bys y'n dowr ow plowghya'n ughel, ha lagasow hir a vir hag a vir dresov.

Palpable Tension The water is great although it’s cold, full of fish and whales, and strange boats, and long eyes that watch and watch the water. The air is fab although it’s cold, the home of birds and clouds, and fast planes, and long eyes that watch and watch the air. The rock is nice although it’s cold, a place to keep watch and sunbathe, and for big buildings, and long eyes watch and watch the rock. The land creatures move quickly as they hasten to point at nothing in the water, in the air, on the rock, in a panic. I’m hungry, so I’ll dive from the rock through the air into the water splashing loudly, and long eyes watch and watch through me.

Dydh Gwener, an degves a vis Ebrel 2026 Friday, the tenth of April 2026

Prompt - Galar / Grief (NaPoWriMo)

Seghes My a'th lenk a-dhyworth skeusen a blegis dhe hanaf, y'th skoll. A wodhes dha vlas? Gwin sugrek, medh fin. A wodhes dha vlas? Difres yn niwl hwerow. My a'th skoll a-dhyworth hanaf a blegis a gov, y'th lenkav.

Thirst I swallow you from a photograph I bent into a cup, it spills you. Do you know how you taste? Sugary wine, fine mead. Do you know how you taste? Relief in bitter fog. I spill you from a cup I bent from a memory, I swallow you.

Dydh Sadorn, an unnekves a vis Ebrel 2026 Saturday, the eleventh of April 2026

Prompt - Bardhonek Duhes / Blackout Poem (NaPoWriMo)

 A-dyworth / From: Rebellyans gans Myghal Palmer. (Sowsnek vyth kavadow / no English available)

Dydh Sul, an dewdhekves a vis Ebrel 2026 Sunday, the twelfth of April 2026

Prompt - Metyans Tyller Passyes, Tyller A-lemmyn / A Past Place and Present Place Meet (Poetry Foundation)

Nen an ebron wynn, Mar yeyn avel gwyns oor mis Est, yw to an Jeep hwath ow viajya rag termyn dibenn a-hys fordhow nowydh, tellys y'n leurlen gwels segh,  gwekys gen del. Goslowysi an enevales eksotyk yw trigys yn bejeth hwerow an bellwolok vras hag yw hir tardhys a-dhywar  fos an menydhyow melyn, pell dre'n veister vian. Yth esov vy ow neuvya yn poll glas an galter arghans, nyns yw gwag, nyns yw leun, avel an hanaf war y benn y'n kofer saw shakleth. Mes yma own ow tevi a'n desk leska diborpos, ha'n fowt a gosk y'n gweli bras kompen yn keyn an karr. An bys ow passya, an bys yw passyes.

The ceiling of the white sky, As cold as August’s icy wind, is the Jeep’s roof still travelling for endless time across new, potholed roads in the dry grass carpet, worn by leaves. The exotic animals’ audience lives in the bitter face of the big TV that is long exploded from the yellow mountain wall, distant through the small window. I’m swimming in the blue pool of the silver kettle, it isn’t empty, it isn’t full, as the upside down cup in the milkshake safe. But there is fear growing from the useless swinging desk, and the lack of sleep in the large neat bed in the back of the car. The world passing, the past world.

Dydh Lun, an tredhekves a vis Ebrel 2026 Monday, the thirteenth of April 2026

Prompt - Tyller Kerys / A Beloved Place (NaPoWriMo)

Brath a'n vronn leun pryskys rudh hag anaves y'ga hanter. Meyn a dhons  yn kelgh kestevyn yntra rayys ankov skeus. Garr a bon onan wosa’n aral yn helgh an gewer splann. Chi a gudh a-ugh dhe'n komm yn syght sempel syger.

A bite from the hill full of red bushes and halved slowworms. Stones dance in a concrete circle between shadow’s forgotten rays. A leg runs one after the other in the hunt for good weather. A house hides above the coombe in idle plain sight.

Dydh Meurth, an peswardhekves a vis Ebrel 2026 Tuesday, the fourteenth of April 2026

Prompt - Teknegieth / Technology (NaPoWriMo) 

Skijyow Sport War gloud y kerdhav glas, pub milder hir ow tybri'n wlas yn skav, yn-bann, yn-nans, a-dro dhe'm treys yn byrlans, lett vyth a'm lentha rag eledh Gore-Tex a'm deg yn teg ow kana paraysys pur an lergh erbynn hwans an glaw ha'n ergh, ha badhya wrons y'n pri, ha besydhya wrons y'n pri, wosa gwakhe an begh hag ov,  gorrys y'n gloos yn rewyow dov.

Trainers On a cloud I walk blue, each long mile eating the land quickly, up, down, around my feet in an embrace, no barrier will slow me as Gore-Tex angels elegantly carry me  singing pure praises of the trail against the wish of rain and snow, and in the clay they bathe, and in the clay they baptise, after emptying the burden of me, placed in the rack in tame rows.