It’s no problem.
Take this single feather
Clutch it tightly in your trunk
It’s a little ticklish, try not to sneeze
Those ears you always trip over?
Stretch those babies right out
Then take that leap of faith
Into the great unknown
Here’s the big secret:
That feather’s magic
And you will
This poem is based on a lie. It’s supposed to be ten lines… but I went crazy.
When tent was pitched, they came from miles around
The dirt caked farmers and their families
With dusty jet black hair and skin of brown
Not like the scrubbed clean folks in magazines
The pale white freckled kids of pre-planned towns
And pitched by ads as the American dream
In margins of society they’re found
Tending crops beneath the sun’s fiery sear
Men in overalls tilling the ground
Some toiling under deportation fears
While others feel the cruel suspicious stares
Despite the fact they’ve been here forty years
But with delight they toss off all their cares
With joyous greetings in their Spanish tongue
For this day is the day of the Great Fair
Where fathers are amigos of the young.
Ah, my favorite prompt: the poetry form prompt. Today’s is the terza rima, preferred by the Divine Comedy’s own Dante Allegheri.
What makes the whiteface dress in white?
What reason for his powder bright?
Is it so he is seen in stage?
Is it to highlight his visage?
Or is he a living porcelain doll?
A life sized toy that does pratfalls?
Why is he leader of the clowns?
Why are the Augustes kept down?
Why the spotted onesie suit?
Does he think he’s childlike? Cute?
Why does he grace the show marquee?
A painted man or phantom be?
This week’s challenge: a poem in the form of questions.. (Been traveling all day again… Sorry for lack of reposts.)
Come brave soul!
Drink the essence of the Crimson Rider
Who the Thunderous Storm on their bare backs
Below grind stamping hooves and champing bits
No saddle nor spur to guide her
But with a smile, she’s armored in but her
Bravery and Wild West spirit
Drink up, my hearties,
The juices of the sunshine fruit
Dyed blood red with the essence
Of Fannie Jamieson’s Valkyrie soul
Her sweat, her indefatigable fire
Mingled inseparable from the acid drink
But also sweetness to the taste
Today’s challenge was kenning, a compound word used by Vikings. So what is this Kenning about? Well:
According to Josh Chetwynd, author of the book, “How the Hot Dog Found Its Bun,” there are two main claims to the title of pink-lemonade inventor — and neither of them sound very thirst-quenching. The first attributes this beverage to a salesman, by the name of Pete Conklin, who sold concessions at the circus. When working a shift in 1857, he ran out of water to make his lemonade (with no access to a nearby well or spring).
Rather than lose out on business, “Pete sprinted into the dressing tent and came across Fannie Jamieson, one of the show’s bareback riders. She had just cleaned her pink tights in a vat of water, leaving the liquid looking a deep pink hue.” He used the water without a second thought, and sold it as “fine strawberry lemonade.” It’s reported that he “did double the business of ordinary refreshment and, allegedly, ushered in a new style of the drink.”
The other theory was that someone accidentally dropped cinnamon in their lemonade… which is boring.
From balls to knives to rings and pins
His juggling skill’s a sight to see.
His Take-Outs prove majestically
His juggling skills; a sight to see
The Mills and Boston Messes, three
Things hurled in rapid fire spins —
From balls to knives to rings and pins!
His juggling skill’s a sight to see!
Getting this out early since I’m actually on the road all day today.
Anyway, Take-Outs, Mills Mess, and Boston Mess are all juggling terminology.