Hey hey, friends! My poem today is #96 in this year's Stafford Challenge (and #461, including last year's Stafford Challenge poem count).
Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: Write a “poem in which the speaker is in dialogue with him or herself.”
Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day suggestion: “For today's prompt, write a natural poem.”
Another successful day combining the prompts. My "natural" element is Mother Nature herself.
Mother Nature Talks to Herself
—tanka sequence
I was out swirling
my ocean water, whistling
a tune, enjoying
the lofting blue of my sky
when I saw the three red chutes
like pockmarks dangling
their Artemis II capsule.
Said “Damn!” to myself.
“Goddess Me, I thought for sure
humans were all leaving soon.”
—Draft by Vince Gotera [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
Today, Alan is combining both prompts as well — with a speaker in conversation with one of their own body parts, and hence nature.
The Intermediate Phalange of My Left Index Finger Tells Me to Take It Easy
I mean, it might be the intermediate phalange of my left index finger.
It might be the flexor digitorum profundus tendon
or the flexor digitorum superficialis tendon.
for all I know, it could be the proximal interphalangeal joint.
It just speaks up,
not like my right wrist when I’ve been at the keyboard for hours,
demanding to be kept still, not to be pressed against the edge of a desk,
not to have nerves twinging through it,
but murmuring a soft complaint,
“How can you go for days without playing guitar
and then think playing for two and a half hours straight
would be a good idea?”
“Do you really need to press the ‘F’ key that many times?
You’ve almost worn the letter off!
What the hell is going on? Are all your students failing?”
“Who all are you beckoning? Can’t you just bring yourself to say, ‘Come here?’”
—Draft by Thomas Alan Holmes [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.]
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Ingat, everyone. ヅ |
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