Day 16. Today is the first day of the rest of your . . . well, not your life, maybe, but the rest of your National Poetry Month. Over the hump. Easy sailing from here.
Today, Maureen Thorson suggests writing "a ten-line poem in which each line is a lie. Your lies could be silly, complicated, tricky, or obvious" (NaPoWriMo). Robert Lee Brewer suggests an elegy: "a poem for someone who has died. . . . defined as 'love poems for the dead' in John Drury's The Poetry Dictionary." (Poetic Asides).
Here we go, written in twenty minutes, mash-up of both prompts.
Elegy for Rotary Dialing: Ten Lies
My right index finger misses first joint pain.
My ears miss the lovely whir of the rotary phone dial.
My nose misses the subtle aroma of oiled gears spinning inside the phone.
My eyes miss watching the dial return to start, like an exercise in futility.
My tongue misses the taste of ozone in the air around the phone.
My sleeping self misses the bright glow of the Princess phone dial at night.
My waking self misses the huge round eye of the phone staring by day.
My brain misses the phone dial flying like a UFO in the living room.
My body misses riding the magically expanded phone dial like a flying carpet.
My heart misses rotary dialing like my teeth miss root canals.
—Draft by Vince Gotera [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
And now on to Alan's poem today. Alan says, "'There is a taint of death, a flavour of mortality in lies — which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world — what I want to forget,' says Marlow in Conrad's Heart of Darkness, so as I combine the prompts (mashing up the elegy requirement with the requirement to write a ten-line poem with a lie in each line), I instead intend to equivocate. Here I offer an all-purpose elegy for somebody you don't like; feel free to take any of the lines and use them during uncomfortable conversation lulls during the associated events."
All-Purpose Elegy for Somebody You Don’t Like
I can't think up enough good things to say.
I always laugh whenever you're in mind.
I can't imagine how you could improve.
I'd never match your best accomplishments.
You had a smile that no one could forget.
I don't meet people like you every day.
Not everyone can claim your fashion sense.
I always thought your best years were ahead.
How could a person ever plumb your soul?
You've left behind a space we'll never fill.
—Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
That's hilarious, Alan! I know your best years are still ahead. ヅ
Won't you comment, please, friends? To make a comment, look for a blue link below that says Post a comment; if you don't see that, look in the red line that starts Posted by Vince and click on the word comments.
Ingat, everyone. ヅ |
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