Sunday, April 22, 2018

DAY 22: IF YOU DON'T WATCH OUT, SAID MOTHER EARTH

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Another double hitter for you today. It's Earth Day, so first, here's a #bookspinepoem to honour that, this one thanks to books by Julie Bruck, Kate Braid, and Emily Kendal Frey:



"Today," says the wonderful word maven at Glo/NaPoWriMo, "I’d like you to take one of the following statements of something impossible, and then write a poem in which the impossible thing happens:

• The sun can’t rise in the west.
• A circle can’t have corners.
• Pigs can’t fly.
• The clock can’t strike thirteen.
• The stars cannot rearrange themselves in the sky.
• A mouse can’t eat an elephant.

If You Don't Watch Out, Said Mother Earth


you'll see an elephant turn to jello 
as mice creep out 
from holes in the sky the stars leave 
when moved by music
of a clock striking thirteen times 
and just as the sun rises over a western hill
a pig will abandon its precarious perch
high in a kauri and soar to ground 
cornered at last as the bellowing elephant
sinks to the ground beneath its jello-y feet  
while mice tie on their tidy bibs, dig in
for what will be their final feast 
—a square meal made of madness.

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There you have it. Not sure how a New Zealand tree wound up in there, but that's Poetry Month for you. (I think I like the #bookspinepoem better). 

My trusty laptop is feeling quite unwell and has to go see the doctor tomorrow which means I may or may not get something posted over the next few days. (I'm away from home for a couple of weeks). But I'll be reading a number of your NaNoPosts! Over and out for now.

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