Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo suggestion: “Today’s daily prompt (optional, as always) again comes from our archives. . . . I challenge you to write a sea shanty (or shantey, or chanty, or chantey — there’s a good deal of disagreement regarding the spelling!) Anyway, these are poems in the forms of songs, strongly rhymed and rhythmic, that sailors might sing while hauling on ropes and performing other sea-going labors. . . . And what should your poem be about? Well, I suppose it could be about anything, although some nautical phrases tossed into the chorus would be good for keeping the sea in your shanty. Haul away, boys, haul away!”
Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “For today's prompt, take the phrase 'How (blank),' replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles might include: 'How to Jump Up and Down,' 'How the Murder Mystery Ends,' 'How the Weather Behaves in Georgia,' and/or 'How Much Candy Should I Eat on a Holiday That Has a Lot of Candy to Eat.'”
Today, I didn't write a sea chantey. Instead I wrote about sea chanteys and their place in oldtime Catholic parochial school curricula. Again, a curtal sonnet. I wasn't sure if I could rhyme with "Agnes"! But I'm pretty happy at how the "-or" rhyme ended up. Enjoy!
How Not to Sing Sea Chanteys
When I was in grade school at St. Agnes
in San Francisco (“grammar school,” though we
seemed to focus less on grammar and more
on penmanship, something they don’t practice
in elementary school these days) we
were taught to sing famous old songs in choir,
like “Oh Susannah.” But for some reason,
we learned “Blow The Man Down” and other sea
chanteys. Why? No sails or cutlasses or
tricorn hats anywhere. Just schoolchildren
chanting pirate songs. Ahrrr!
—Draft by Vince Gotera [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
Alan did write a sea chantey today, accompanied by a Petrarchan sonnet, all in satire about current events in the news. He said, "I understand after a spate of specific, detailed prompts, a playful simple prompt can offer some creative relief, but the news is still distressing."
How to Set Course (a Tennes-sea Chanty)
Open your pockets and lock down your doors
(Yee-haw, my hearties!)—
Lock out minority speech from your floors
(Heave-ho, my buckoes!)—
P. J. O’Rourke once compared us to whores—
(Yee-haw, my hearties!)—
That’s all we know about setting a course—
(Heave-ho, my buckoes!).
Behind me in the waiting room, I hear
the talking heads from Fox deride the three
who dared to challenge those in Tennessee
who, true to form, consider guns as dear
to life as breath. If some should interfere
with gun proliferation, they should be
ejected from the ruling body, Lee,
the governor, agrees in secrecy,
because, with public silence, his own name
avoids deserved, consenting guns-first blame.
Oh, ship of state, you’d think a Volunteer
would seek the common good, but in this game,
where ruthless players score, a Buccaneer
mentality commands this troubled sea.
—Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
Thank you for your candor, Alan. Unfortunately, another mass shooting today in Louisville. It seems to be a daily event, perhaps more often than daily now, alas.
Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks!
Ingat, everyone. ヅ |
4 comments:
I like your memory in that sonnet, Vince. We learned some odd musical choices in public grammar school too - nothing at all contemporary, mostly 19th century folk songs. And Alan, your gun-themed poetry really hits home and is so timely, unfortunately. You've inspired me to revisit the topic. In case you missed my triolet from earlier this month (I know Vince read it):
Ploughshares
I dreamt the guns were melted down
for bridges, cars and monuments
to victims in our bloody town.
I dreamt the guns were melted. Down
the chute they went. "We will not drown
in grief or hate." This covenant
I dreamt. The guns were melted down
for bridges, cars and monuments.
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