It’s Wednesday but I can’t be wordless today. Let’s have some horsies from Monterano, shall we. And in the poem, a lovers’ quarrel with help of Dorothy Parker.
Prompt 6: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a variation of an acrostic poem. But rather than spelling out a word with the first letters of each line, I’d like you to write a poem that reproduces a phrase with the first words of each line.“
Horticulture YOU may think you CAN see where this path will LEAD us: A patch of green. Nothing A bit of wholesome HORTICULTURE won’t solve. BUT, culture or no culture, even YOU must know that god CAN’T grow you green fingers and MAKE a hortif'ckinculturalist out of you. As for HER cultural preferences, I like to THINK Adele is not quite the same as Pushkin. WORDS IN CAPITALS provided by Dorothy Parker with thanks.
The last day in my NaPoWriMo history
2018: Line length because they told us to experiment with line length as if it weren’t clear that there could be only
line to go with the horizon above the sea which must be pretty much the biggest success creation-wise geometrically speaking (Read all.)
2019: What if April 6 didn’t happen
What if on this day in 1941 Yugoslavia were not attacked or, since it was, nobody fought back? What if on this day 25 years later a man and a woman didn’t start thinking how nice it would be to have me? (Read on.)
I was the fence which needed to be replacedHopeful
You know how this ends. You leave and he builds another fence and another pond and another stony path made of stones that he stole from the creek. In the pond are remains of the broken vase which the wind knocked down after he’d placed it on the outside table, and you said so since you had a vision of it falling, and you said so. (Read on.)
This day in my blogging history
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands. —Linda Hogan