Day 16 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2020

Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “For today’s prompt, take the phrase ‘The Last (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles could include: ‘The Last Cookie,’ ‘The Last Roll of Toilet Paper,’ ‘The Lasting Impression,’ ‘The Last Word,’ and/or ‘The Last Starfighter.’” Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “write a poem of over-the-top compliments. Pick a person, place, or thing you love, and praise it in the most effusive way you can. Go for broke with metaphors, similes, and more.” Since my Dickinson/Whitman poem the day before yesterday was pretty over-the-top in description, metaphor, and simile, I am following only the Brewer prompt. Today we have another installment in my aswang novella-in-poems. (More on that here.) We have had three April poems so far that were set in San Francisco. Today's poem is set in the Philippine jungle, where Tiyago has been deployed with the 1st Filipino Infantry Regiment, a Filipino American unit during WWII. Other poems in the novella so far have detailed Tiyago hunting enemy soldiers in his shapeshifted weredog form at night; this poem, a curtal sonnet, narrates another such hunt. The Last Moments The moon’s full face beamed down like cold fire on the thick jungle where Tiyago ran, giant black canine, paws silent on the ground, his prey a squad of Nipponese soldiers on silent patrol. He sprang from dense green foliage, onyx-muscled arrow sans sound. But one man saw the movement, fired point blank. The bullet splintered Tiyago’s collarbone. Changed back to human, he fell hard, Carla and Malcolm flashing in his mind. He whispered "Thank                                         God," and was unbound. —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Obviously, this event will massively alter Clara and Malcolm's lives back in San Francisco. I still have to go back and fill in more about their lives before Tiyago enlists to fight in the war. This allows him to get around his vow to Clara that he will no longer kill. Although he loves Clara as well as Malcolm, he has had an increasingly difficult time renouncing and resisting his aswang urges. Alan's poem today brilliantly follows both prompts. The Last President I have to give him credit, he’s the best in personal promotion; what one name gets mentioned more than any other? Christ? I doubt it. Folks of many faiths know him on sight; they think of how he shapes their lives, how his decisions touch them, even when they are unwelcome. There are days when I forget the names of folks I’ve known for years, but I can be assured that I will think of him throughout the day. Four horsemen all in one, he starves the poor, deprives the sick, sets neighbor against neighbor, opens up the markets at the cost of lives, becomes the only word permitted, first and last, the greatest con, his faithful marks, red-capped and set to strike his foes. The greatest brand of all, the Tweet incarnate, he’s a word surpassing all the other words; the world will bear his mark, his scorched-earth, cursed mark. —Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Bravo! Stay safe and healthy, everyone. Don't let "the four horsemen all in one" get you down. Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. 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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