The Dog and the Rooster


The Dog and the Rooster came to town
 In a ghastly red pick-up truck
They’d forgotten their jam, and (due to a scam)
 Their pennies had vanished (oh fuck!)
The Dog looked down at the streets below
 And whined to a giant drum,
‘O awful Cock! You think like a sock!
 What a hideous Cock you’ve become,
  Become,
  Become!
 What a hideous Cock you’ve become!’

Cock replied to Dog’s whine, ‘You horrid canine!
 How shockingly bitter and crass! 
I want a divorce as a matter of course
 and I know a judge we can ask.
They stumbled around a few seconds and found
 A garden of Fizz-feather down
and there in a clearing, a Loosey-goose bearing
 a wig on the square of his crown,
  his crown, 
  his crown.
A wig on the square of his crown.

‘Sir Goose, would you kindly just write for us, blindly,
 A contract?’ Huffed Goosey, ‘I won’t.’
So they shrugged and departed, a bit broken-hearted,
 with a homeless hamster (for a pint)
They drank some ale, and shavings of kale
 out of colourful cups, just for fun 
And foot over feet, in a rank drunken heap
They slept in the shade of the sun.
 The sun,
 The sun.
They slept in the shade of the sun.

———
http://www.napowrimo.net/2013/04/day-30/
And now our final (and still optional) prompt! I know I’ve used this one in prior years, but it’s one of my favorites, so bear with me. Find a shortish poem that you like, and rewrite each line, replacing each word (or as many words as you can) with words that mean the opposite. For example, you might turn “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” to “I won’t contrast you with a winter’s night.” Your first draft of this kind of opposite poem will likely need a little polishing, but this is a fun way to respond to a poem you like, while also learning how that poem’s rhetorical strategies really work. (It’s sort of like taking a radio apart and putting it back together, but for poetry). Happy writing!

I just couldn’t resist doing Edward Lear’s ‘Owl and the Pussycat
It turns out, the opposite of nonsense is nonsense. Beautiful really.

I leave you gently


I leave you gently
with the quiet din of peace
like waves leave the shore

———
I wrote this haiku after breastfeeding my baby to sleep and then managing to extricate myself from her mollusk-like grasp to go do other things. But it could refer to other kinds of separation too.
It’s a traditional haiku because it ends with an image of nature.

Lover, press thy hand


Lover, press thy hand
that I may like liquid curl
in sharp sweet tendrils
oil under water’s caress
languishing in arabesque

———
My first version of this was kind of an extended Tanka:

Lover, press thy hand
that I may like liquid curl
in sharp sweet bubbles
and separated tendrils
of self meeting self,
oil under water’s caress
languishing in arabesque

I felt I needed to add a couple of lines to say what I wanted to, but I then I decided the extra was unnecessary. Which version do you like better?
I must say, I quite like ending with a rhyming couplet.

In other news, It’s the 1st of May, so goodbye Napowrimo 2013, and so long prompts I do not follow. I now find myself burdened with this blog, but I rather like it. I’ve been thinking of continuing, so I will do so with a promise: I will come here with a new poem, at least twice a week. Let’s say (tentatively) Wednesdays and Sundays, since they are the only days I never missed in the month of April.

That said, I have another to give to you before today ends.