Day 27 ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2023

Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “write an anapodoton poem. An anapodoton is an unfinished phrase that a person can fill in the blanks, phrases like 'When in Rome,' 'If life gives you lemons,' 'Speak of the devil,' and 'Where there is a will.' For many (if not all) of these, you probably filled in the second half of the phrase, because you know it so well. So write a poem either responding to, playing up, or subverting a popular anapodoton. Personally, I think it would be fun if poets make the titles of their poems an anapodoton before jumping in and poeming.” Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “Today, begin by reading Bernadette Mayer’s poem “The Lobelias of Fear.” Now write your own poem titled “The ______ of ______,” where the first blank is a very particular kind of plant or animal, and the second blank is an abstract noun. The poem should contain at least one simile that plays on double meanings or otherwise doesn’t quite make “sense,” and describe things or beings from very different times or places as co-existing in the same space.” Here's today's ditty: a curtal sonnet melding the two prompts. The Hummingbirds of Abandon All Roads Lead To We all have friends who are like hummingbirds. They flit from this to that, from one thing through another. Run stop signs in front of cops who don’t notice. Not a care in the world. They constantly win: from lotto prizes to twenty-dollar bills found in parking lots. Lady Luck loves them. But you know we all have to pay the piper, as they say. You can’t rely on fortune forever. Gaps open in front of you, sudden sinkholes.                                 All roads lead to . . . oops. —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Here is Alan's poem for today. His title, like mine, combines Thorson's "The ____ of ____" phrasing with the anopodoton. Which, it occurs to me, I have no idea how to say out loud. The Housecat of the Lord Works in Mysterious Ways The housecat of God’s will comes between you and your laptop screen, rubs its chin against the flapping dustcover enough to wake you, chews leaves of remaining houseplants and old books, butts its head against your wrist and bites your hand. It is ordinary in its schedule, insistent upon feeding, demanding of lap time. And, yet, were there a mouse, it would sit; were there a fire, it would curl in a far window, watching the vine of ivy lasso in the wind, only to scoot and run as you attempted to take it outside to your mutual safety. Its purr assures only its momentary ambivalence, seemingly mindful, a moving red dot will focus its attention; calling its name to find it makes no difference. —Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

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