Poem Meta: Changing the Dates! – Day 28

GloPoWriMo 2019


Day 28: Prompt to write a Meta Poem which is a poem which talks about itself.


Poem Meta: Changing the Dates!


A charcoal etched date on the walls of a house.

The sad bones of an adult and two children

lying on the floor nearby: the search goes on.


The poem is the excavation of

a destroyed city. The poem is

a frightening year, 79AD.

The poem has a struggle as to

which month exactly. And that’s

the reason the poem is interrogating itself.


The poem is beauty and rediscovered art

on the walls of the grand houses

of Pompeii.


The poem is a ‘maybe’, nothing more

than a scrawl; charcoals’ life use

is limited. Maybe it was a date

set aside for some other reason.

Someone’s relatives coming to stay?

The time some crop or other must be picked?

The poem is not changing her mind.

She has more questions than answers

but she has no mandate to solve this riddle.


The poem is the remaining mystery:

Vesuvius and that all important date.


Benita H. Kape © 29.4.2019





High Maintenance – Day 27

GloPoWriMo 2019

Day 27: Prompt to write a sonnet. I took Shakespeare’s Sonnet 4, line 8 as my starting point.


High Maintenance    


So great a sum of sums yet canst not live.

So early in the piece and you are broke.

A girl like her with many charms should thrive.

New this, new that, that which stands bespoke.


The smartest clothes, hats, shoes, newest trends;

I struggle to keep up, to keep this girl in style.

She began as she meant to go on, high flying at the week-ends

And when not partying hard, checking out the mercantile.


She has never in her life made do; high maintenance.

She tries her best but she cannot do a millionaires’ mile.

While I, it’s true, am trying to introduce some measure of prudence.

I am working very hard at setting up an easy come, easy go profile.


So it had to end; it’s been going too hard, too long to overcome.

I can no longer pay her bills; she is too great a sum of sums.


Benita H. Kape © 27.4.2019


Rink On

Rock and rink

Nuptial Photoshoot


roller rink at the beach …

rock & roll, hand in hand,

wave after wave they get the balance.


the high shot

looking down on them,


and that high sweep


don’t turn to look

artfully netted rocks, beachside:


(a city setting itself against future storms.)


later, upon opening up the photograph,

choose “Paint;” and having chosen text,

font, size and colour, in a blue wave

write on that big sweep of the rink



ignore them

rink on

or swim for your life


Benita H. Kape © 26.3.2019





Looking at a Sad Letter

Yogi Bear - Nan's corgi

Another family pup. This one a corgi and much loved

Looking Back on a Sad Letter

a couple and their companion


Well, did you get to South Africa you two?

I’ll make that three, because

if Anne is there, so too her Bichon Frise:

we must never refer to it

(and I can’t for the life of me

recall the name of the beast) as

simply a dog. Neither of you

took your little darling to golf

and golf was always your second priority.


We received the sad letter

saying Anne had passed

which included more than

a clipped Envoi saying

the Bichon Frise (in old age herself)

had succumbed soon after.

Oh Anne, I can see how grief

played its part; even in the doggy world.

Sorry: I meant to say in the world

of a Bichon Frise.


Then recently your life partner

joined you: ashes laid to rest.


Beyond the Boardrooms

the note from the Bichon Frise


Anne stood back and waited

here under the shady trees

where, with me, a Bichon Frise,

we have spent the past three years.

But as the cars approached: (I long

smelt something was up). I ran

to meet and greet: wuf, wuf. Geoffrey,

dressed smartly, tie perfectly pleated.

He’d sat in boardrooms which allowed

little or no informality.


At his first opportunity he’d loosened his tie.

You were right, he’d been working

on getting to South Africa for some months.




All that’s left to do (with a tinge of sadness)

is to wish the extended family we left

Merry Christmas and a Wonderful year ahead:

from me, a reunited Bichon Frise

and partners, Anne and Geoffrey.


Benita H. Kape (c) 6.12.2019


https://dversepoets.com/2019/12/05/mtb-o-apostrophe/ – A prompt in two parts called for by Gospel Isosceles (Amaya). Thank you for the challenge.

I have done my o-apostrophe poem PLUS its response here for d/verse. I enjoy working to these prompts. And having got thru this one I am ready to raise my glass.




on both Kenneth Kock

and William Carlos Williams


I chopped at the neighbours’ feijoa hedge which he lets grow tall.

I am sorry, I have the worse view now

and he’ll have little fruit this summer.


I peered at the creeping ivy growing at the hedge roots and now climbing through the fence.

I ask no forgiveness . There was nothing left to do but take a leaf

out of Kenneth Kocks’ book and spray.


It cost me a lot of money to transport the cut branches but waste management obliged.

I’d cut a good two thirds of that overgrown hedge. It kept

the sun from my driveway; made the place cold.


Later that month the neighbour began throwing all his other yard waste where once

grew a hedge and creeping ivy. As summer wears on it smells the more. Forgive me,

I have no answer to this. I can no longer afford to take his waste to the dump.


Benita H. Kape (c) 23.11.2019


Imitation Practice

Imitation for Frank

For d/verse today we are to imitate a poet or a form. One form, two poets for me today. Apparently Kenneth Kock studied, and I believe parodied WCW, but other than this one I’ve yet to find another one of his. Not that I know much of Kenneth Kock. But who of us do not know the Plums in the fridge? I’ll give you the first stanza only of the Kenneth Kock parody which is titled “Variations of a Theme by William Carlos Williams.”

I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer. I am sorry, but it was morning, I had nothing to do and its wooden beams were so inviting.

I must say the hedge and the creeping ivy is inviting but I don’t really want to fall out with the neighbour. The hedge will be trimmed a little before Christmas.



At the Beach Atop a Pole

Osprey @ Yeppoon photo

At the Beach Atop a Pole

The Osprey, nesting,

cracked on creatively.

Built her nest

in rare remove

atop a high pole

made to hold

street lights

near the beach.


See her muddle

of cracked and sturdy

twigs: the chick

lording it –

going truly crackers

at whoever comes near.

Benita H. Kape (c) 19.11.2019

My daughter noticing the nest came closer to take a photo and the chick had plenty to say about her invasion of space.

This is written for –

Quadrille #92: Take a crack at poeming.


It’s Been My Annus Horribillis

Avocado at Liz's

retorts a poem written on the thirteenth day

of the penultimate day of the month:

feeling fine, feeling remarkably fine

and I’m trying for a re-birth

at what should be, probably is:

close to the end of a reasonably long life.


Earlier in the year an attempt was made

to insert a stent to my heart. Thinking one,

they found two, the more recent

quiet small: and dealt to it: went on

to the larger one. The patient (myself)

watched them as they worked. And

then the nurse leaves her monitor duties

and comes to my side.


I have little recall of her words

so soon, as they say, I was out

like a light; inserting wires had

snapped, not once but twice.

There followed an emergency retrieval.


Next morning the little surgeon

came to my bedside; and said

“I may never touch you again.”

And though I struggled with

that deep cobbled wound in the groin and what

is called “referred pain” in my shoulder:

(strange as that may seem.)               I’d

screamed and moaned. And later

I would think “And maybe I just

will not let you touch me again.”

But I’m determined and I’m hopeful.

I live in hope.


I am determined

to heal, alter diet, exercise.

I don’t regard myself as desperate;

but I’ve heard of vegan miracles.

Each day I chip away

at what I regard as my re-birth.

How far will I get! Only time will tell.

This is the pen and the thoughts

of a forever optimist.


It’s near the end of the year.

A new year is waiting to be born;

feeling fine; feeling remarkably fine;

metaphorically young in heart & mind,

I’m working on some re-birth.

Benita H. Kape (c) 13.11.2019

This poem is shared in dVerse  https://dversepoets.com/ Amaya hosting has requested poems on the subject of birth.


More Meningitis Moments

Sandy at the beach


Keep smiling darling

though bereft of two finger tips

per hand today;

and toes!

Haven’t yet been given

the count. Keep smiling darling.

These past months so difficult

and still you keep smiling.

‘Tis your nature and always was.

The nature of an optimist.

Benita H. Kape 6.11.2019


This Quadrille #91 “Keep”  is for my daughter who has been so brave and it was heartbreaking waiting to see how much would be amputated. Feet still heavily bandaged but last evening when visited she was in very good spirits. She’s so special and the true optimist. I delivered her myself when she was born; but hey that’s a whole other story.