"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

On all sides

National Poetry Writing Month Day 4

Write a poem that is about something abstract but discusses or describes that abstraction in concrete nouns.
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There is a storm in here -
vicious, gray clouds billow and
blur the once-blue sky.
Jagged ribbons of lightning
dance and rip the air to pieces.
I doubt I'd even notice
if one touched down and
turned the still-dead bark
of early spring to puffing tinder.
My whole brain is on fire.

Here is a boat cast out to sea,
rudderless, as the cliches go,
upturned by a skyscraping wave.
The epic horns of inspiration
cry out like wounded pets,
bloody and alone in the wild,
but still no oar floats to my fingers.
My hands bob with the current,
palms cupped and pleading
for the grace to douse this blaze.
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Playing on my Spotify at this very moment:
The Police, Roxanne

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