Hello again, friends! My poem today is #89 in this year's Stafford Challenge (and #454, including the number of poems from last year's challenge).
Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “Today, we’d like you to write [a] poem that muses on love, but isn’t a traditional love poem in the sense of expressing love between romantic partners.”
Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day suggestion: “For today's prompt, take the phrase 'Under (blank),' replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.”
I'm combining the two prompts again in a single poem.
Under My Thumb — What?
—curtal sonnet
“Under My Thumb” by the Rolling Stones was
one of my favorite radio songs
in seventh grade. A guy calls his girlfriend
“squirming dog,” docile “pet,” and “Siamese
cat.” I didn’t notice anything wrong
with those slurs back then. I hope I didn’t
think that was how love was supposed to be.
With my parents, my dad was controlling
towards my mom. Just the same with my friends.
A wonder we learned to love tenderly,
passion and care entwined.
—Draft by Vince Gotera [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
Today, Alan is also working with both prompts.
Underwear
After forty-something years
Everything means something more,
so when I cannot see
(my belly in the way)
whatever the hell is going on
at the top of my thigh,
just below the hem of my shorts,
not even flirting this time,
and I ask her to take a look,
in some ways it’s like asking
the luthier to check the buzz
from the B string.
We hold the ideal
of the note and can
only approximate it
with the earnest care
of our seasoned instruments
and continued practice.
—Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
That's a subtly sweet meditation on love, Alan.
Thanks for coming by today. See you again tomorrow!
Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. Thanks!
Ingat, everyone. ヅ |
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