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NaPoWriMo Day 23

… And Froglet

True, Earth’s poetry has no end.
Even by the water’s edge
Where moss clings to banks, and tadpoles wedge
For shelter, on the river bend
Beneath a shimmer, as the ripples blend.
When summer halts spring’s final sledge
The tadpoles, they make their pledge,
Huddling until their legs extend.
The resplendence of earth shall never deplete.
Even at night, when darkness creeps,
When chilling winds surf broken soil,
Brilliance is not lost, for the moon’s fleet
Skates on reeds and grass which sweeps.
The froglets find no sign of spoil.

In response to the twenty-third “response” prompt from

I chose to respond to John Keats’ “On the Grasshopper and Cricket”, a beautiful poem exploring the never-ending “poetry” of nature.

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NaPoWriMo Day 22

An Heir is a Son

Sorry princess,
But you still have toenails to paint,
Magazines to read,
Hair to style,
And a girl’s life to lead.
“He’s only despondent as he wanted an heir”.
An excuse for neglect, forgetting she’s there.
Treading on her life with metonymy.
Stunting her growth, the person she wants to be.
An heir is a son,
Would he add to your life?
Not like your daughter.
For her, you lack strife,
As she is no heir.

In response to the twenty-second “metonymy” prompt from

A perfect excuse to rant. Whatever “saying” you use to belittle someone, their life still exists, and they have to deal with the pain.

With inspiration from Uvri Kumbhat’s essay about mangoes.

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NaPoWriMo Day 21

The Fire Alarm

There was a man with no charm,
Who bought himself a fire alarm,
And with that fire alarm he chose,
He bought himself a fire hose.
And with that fire hose he took,
He bought himself a fire truck.
And with that fire truck he got,
He devised himself a clever plot.
And with his clever plot, his charm
Could be restored with a fire alarm.
And with the fire alarm, he rose,
And grabbed hold of his fire hose.
And with that fire hose he snuck,
Into the back of his fire truck.
And when that truck arrived on site,
His little face oozed with delight.
And with that gleam upon his face,
He made the whole crowds’ hearts race.

In response to the twenty-first “There was a Man of Double Deed” prompt from

Inspired by the anonymous nursery rhyme entitled “There was a Man of Double Deed”.

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NaPoWriMo Day 19

Little Pot of Courage

Nothing more than a self-pitying agoraphobe.
Lazing upon a little pot of courage
With a lid I claim is too tight to probe.
I can be fierce- I have seen it before.
If only I could loosen this thieving blighter.
Perhaps it is the fault of my own sweaty palms,
But I’m certain this fearful kitten is a fighter.

In response to the nineteenth “humourous rant” prompt from

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NaPoWriMo Day 18

Removing Love’s Mask

“Please stay, I love you”
Tossing rose blossom before your eyes,
Filling your stomach with fluttering flies,
Echoing whispered tunes in your ears,
And causing your skin to absorb all the tears.
Pounding your heart at a marathon rate,
Rattling your joints, wavering your gait.
Drying your mouth, clouding your brain.
Tickling your nerves, interrupting the pain.
Place a finger over the verbal attack
And tell them “I don’t love you back”.
Don’t give love power to enshroud the blue.
Lie to remove love’s mask,
Starve the cycle, and relieve you.

In response to the eighteenth “poemcrazy” prompt from

I chose the chapter title: “Lying to tell the truth” from Susan G. Wooldridge’s “Poemcrazy: Freeing Your Life with Words” as inspiration.

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NaPoWriMo Day 16

Hankering for Rum

The first pirate was a banker,
But for rum he would hanker,
He bought a boat with no anchor,
He was a bit of a…
Across the waves he could zip,
In his almighty ship,
In search of a chum,
Who had plenty of rum,
But he was so dumb,
So all he did was sit,
And think about it,
Because he didn’t know…
He’s no pirate, he’s just bluffing.

In response to the sixteenth “skeltonic verse” prompt from

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NaPoWriMo Day 15

Mother’s Songs

All it takes is one little word,
To crop up in conversation,
And suddenly my mother believes,
That she is a singing sensation.
But! She sings several octaves higher,
Than the artist of the song,
In a barely recognisable tune,
Plus, the lyrics are always wrong.
Well it didn’t take long at all
Before I would break into a song!
Luckily I know my lyrics,
So at least I don’t get those wrong.

Mother sings often,
Spirit as high as her key!
It is contagious.

In response to the fifteenth “bad habits” prompt from