Day Four ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2017

Day Four. Foursquare. Fourlorn. Fourge ahead. Fourever. Four Petes' sake. Robert Lee Brewer’s PAD prompt, since it's Tuesday, is doubled: a "Two for Tuesday" challenge: "a beginning poem" and/or "an ending poem." Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt today draws from Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations. Maureen says, "The 'enigma' of the title is widely believed to be a hidden melody that is not actually played, but which is tucked somehow into the composition through counterpoint. Today I’d like you to take some inspiration from Elgar and write a poem with a secret – in other words, a poem with a word or idea or line that it isn’t expressing directly. The poem should function as a sort of riddle, but not necessarily a riddle of the 'Why is a raven like a writing desk?' variety. You could choose a word, for example, 'yellow,' and make everything in the poem something yellow, but never actually allude to their color. Or perhaps you could closely describe a famous physical location or person without ever mentioning what or who it actually is." Alan leads off today with this sh-bump sh-bump la-di-da-da la-di-da-da sh-bump, melding the prompts. I Am Awake and Sweaty at Three on Saturday Morning A bad development, I heard a bump when I was sure the path was clear, my rump slid sideways in my seat. I felt a lump I could not swallow. I felt lost. To jump to some conclusion like an angry grump just wouldn’t do — I’m more like Forrest Gump than I admit, an amiable chump too full, I guess, of optimism—dump your blame; I dumped the car, prepared to hump some dream-drear miles in my poor fortune’s slump. The land gone flat, I climbed a sere-grass tump through easy footing, bracing clump by clump, and looked down on a stagnant, noxious sump, air thick with flies around a rotting stump. —Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Emulating Alan shamelessly, I offer this little riddle. Yup, both prompts. All three, actually. Can You Name? To begin, we, sputtering, duck. With a little bit rock and roll. Clowning with rhyming names. Training with a whole lot of soul. Scowling with sour pickles. Leading evil in a hungry land. Copping out in neon Miami. Soaring like a bird in a band. Sputter again like a deputy. In Miami once more, win twice. Read poems out in the hall. Read a story to white noise. In the rain, the least of the three. In the end, who's despicable me? —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Two sonnets, well met in a tulgey wood, all snicker-snack galumphing. The photo is Michael Alfano's sculpture "Questioning Mind." Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Any guesses on what Alan and I are up to? To comment, look for a red line below that starts Posted by, then click once on the word comments in that line. If you don’t find the word “comments” in that line, then look for a blue link below that says Post a comment and click it once. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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