Cancelled – Day 26

GloPoWriMo 2019

Prompt Day 26: Poem using repetition

It’s been said many times that anything’s up for poetry.  And it is, even when things don’t go as you’d planned, maybe especially when things don’t go as planned.

 

Cancelled  

 

Come Monday I was to have been outta here.

Not so, this coming Monday I stay.

I stay, come Monday morning because

the Doctors have called a strike.

On strike, come Monday morning;

Come it then I’ll be still in bed late.

We were prepared Monday morning,

to travel now everything’s changed.

It was, or would have been a long way

and two nights to stay.

 

Come Monday morning I’ll be waiting.

Another month is now the estimation.

Tuesday was the day the Doctors (now

calling a strike.) Tuesday the Doctors

were to have inserted my stent. Come

Monday I’ve been waiting way too long.

Come Monday probably another month.

 

Benita H. Kape © 26.4.2019

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My Song of Spring Beyond all Sadness – Day 25

GloPoWriMo 2019

Day 25: Prompt to write a poem on a season and which mine is a very different way of remembering a particular season.

 

My Song of Spring Beyond all Sadness

 

I read Keats, his poem To Autumn.

How many years ago now

I wrote an essay to spring

using that first line.  Where,

did that come from? I have

no recollection of having

read the poem myself, or

of anyone reading it to me.

But begin the essay that way

I did!

 

I’ll put it down to an earlier life.

You can argue if you like.

 

My English teacher never raised

the subject of the poem but

I do recall his excitement at the essay.

I was what is called, a ‘mature’

student, coming back to classes.

 

Came time to sit the exam

I started; but then I walked out;

that being the anniversary of his birthday –

our little son we’d lost.

 

His hair never soft-lifted

by a winnowing wind.

And then Keats goes on

Where are the songs of spring?

 

My song of spring

was to my infant child;

his sweet smell, the few hours

I held him, his weak cry.

My lips pressed softly to his fontanel.

He was my spring song —

and gone. I want to scream

a tiny wisp of hair never soft-lifted

by a winnowing wind

memories of five senses

and the exam I could not sit.

 

Benita H. Kape © 26.4.2019

 

Day 25: Prompt to write a poem on a season and which mine is a very different way of remembering a particular season.

  • Is specific to a season
  • Uses imagery that relates to all five senses (sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell)
  • Includes a rhetorical question, (like Keats’ “where are the songs of spring?”)
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