A dozen days of April have elapsed. A dozen poems for a double-dozen prompts. Playing the dozens.
Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: "write a poem that explicitly incorporates alliteration (the use of repeated consonant sounds) and assonance (the use of repeated vowel sounds)."
Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: "write a guilty poem. The poem can be written from the perspective of someone who is (or feels) guilty, or it can be about someone (or something) else that’s guilty. But guilty of what? Cheating on a test? Or a spouse? Or a diet? Only you know, and only your poem can reveal the truth."
Okay, from me, some over-the-top soundplay — alliteration, assonance, even some consonance, and the occasional rhyme — on the theme of guilt.
No, I Don’t Feel a Bit Guilty
So the "I" in my title could be Trump (or T___p as some call him in order to make fewer the occurrences of his name in the world since he loves his brand to be invoked repeatedly, whatever the reason) or it could be me
To set up his confluence of soundplay and guilt today, Alan tells us, "When I returned home Monday, a lone bee was attempting to find the log gum we had moved the day before." Go back a couple of days in the blog for the earlier part of this story in Alan's poem "The Karen Cajka Bees Go to Jonesborough" for Day Ten.
Where Are Those Who Were before Us?
In response to the earlier poem, I had written, "Alan, I hope another queen finds one of your trees to start a hive." Little did I know that there would be a sad outcome of a lone worker bee trying to find the hive that was home. Doomed to be forever lost.
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Ingat, everyone. ヅ
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