Day Eight ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2014

Day Eight. Yesterday I said we were roughly a fourth through National Poetry Month. I probably should have said we were a little under a fourth. And today we are a little over a fourth. The exact fourth would be 7.5, which would have been when . . . exactly at midnight last night. Wait, I posted yesterday's blog almost at midnight, so maybe my comment about yesterday being a fourth was almost exactly right. Robert Lee Brewer has a "Two for Tuesday" prompt again: write a violent poem / write a peaceful poem (Poetic Asides). Maureen Thorson suggests that we "rewrite a famous poem, giving it our own spin. While any famous poem will do, if you haven’t already got one in mind, why not try your own version of Cesar Vallejo’s 'Black Stone Lying on a White Stone'? If you’re not exactly sure how such a poem could be re-written,' check out this recent poem by Stephen Burt, which riffs on Vallejo’s" (NaPoWriMo). Thanks, Maureen and Robert. Trying today to mix all three prompts — love these Tuesdays. The famous poem I'm rewriting is William Carlos Williams's renowned note to his wife. My revision tries to be violent and then peaceful, though maybe it's just silly. Which is, of course, just fine. This is just to say I have jumped onto my head from the top of the icebox Forgive me that was a bad joke to distract you from the missing mangoes delicious sweet so cold at peace in me —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Apologies to WCW. Parody, right? Our good friend Alan starts us off on his poem today: "I am a bit disappointed that Southern Appalachians have become American exotics again, so I am taking yesterday's prompt to write a love poem to 'an inanimate object,' in this case an abstract concept, and pushing my facetious button." Four-Lane Highway 36 Love Poem Oh, stereotyped southern Appalachia, today my heart is full as ashtrays outside tanning booths. Your love is Oxycontin, Sugar, and it makes my head spin around like a lost wheel into trackside seats in the Waltrip section. You kiss as soft as pajama pants cuffs frayed as the bitten fingernails of the pre-dawn Walmart shoppers. Without you, my life would be as colorless as your patches of hair where the peroxide hasn’t grown out. You are free as a ten percent sales tax, safe as a stand-your-ground neighbor, faithful as a Republican representative elected on a “family values” platform. I love you slow. I love you slack. I love you banged-up, scabby, and dirty until the sun comes up and you disappear like a third grade-graduated Li’l Abner knock-off pursued by a frigid schoolmarm secretary around the cement ponds of summers past. Those mall girls have nothing on you; my love is as everlasting as God, as true as a bullet, and as deep as my debt. —Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes     [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Love the lines "You are free as a ten percent sales tax, / safe as a stand-your-ground neighbor, / faithful as a Republican representative" . . . so sarcastic. And also love the transient but momentary hope in "patches of hair / where the peroxide hasn’t grown out." Again, a keeper, Alan. Map from Southern Appalachian International Film Festival (SOAPIFF) Won't you comment below, please? To write 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" later in that line. Ingat, everyone. Hope your week is going well.   ヅ

POEM-A-DAY 2014 • Pick a day in April: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30