Day Eight & Lens-Artists PC: Happy K9, bestia!

What a doubly happy day! My dog turns 9 and my poem is featured today. All my egos rejoice in the new poem.

I was so happy and proud to see that today I’m the featured participant of this year’s NaPoWriMo. My yesterday’s door poem brought me this honour. Thank you most kindly!

Today is a new day and all my egos wanted out to celebrate.

Prompt 8: “Today’s prompt asks you to name your alter-ego, and then describe him/her in detail. Then write in your alter-ego’s voice.” 

Alter egos

Go with your first thought, 
they say.
Go with the flow.
Okay.

I’m such an ego
that I don’t have one alter but many. 
They don’t have a voice.
They pray at my altar.

I’m such an ego that I don’t give names,
not even genders at times. 
Each comes with its own sound.  
It helps track them down. 

The cleaning lady (Serbian turbo folk) –  
she is a handful.
She is the one I actively suppress. 
We don’t need her negativity on mess.

The hippie flower child (“Woodstock”)
in a long colourful skirt
may be my favourite. 
But she doesn’t write. She dreams. She’s alert. 

The mosh pit slammer (speed metal)
is a wild card.
Once that one prevails, 
the rest run and I hide.

The groovy poet (70’s funk)
– such style without vanity – 
lives in New York City
on the brink of fame and insanity.

The one that puts alter in my ego
(Wet Leg and Nick Cave)
feels mean, fake and vain.
My vein streams main.

The stats nerd (live basketball game),
who lives behind two screens
on snacks and beer, 
does not play but counts wins.

The little French (mais oui, chansons)
is me just a little.
Nothing about me is petit.
But she insists.

The belly dancer (African sounds)
has the best camouflage. 
When she comes out,
astonishment mounts.

The ghetto kid (hard core rap)
is far from home
and kept in check.
For now.

I suppose I should let them out
to play a little then and now
but that would be drama.
Especially that cleaner mama.

In photos something that I do every year for our bestia’s birthday: I post one photo from each month of the past year. How lucky that this week it’s John’s birthday and he set birthday as the theme for Lens-Artists photo challenge. You can find all the previous bestia’s birthday posts in the memories at the end of this post.

April was still pandemic here in Tuscany but then it opened up and in July I was able to return to my Slovenia of origin and stay there until August. Then Crystal and Pedro from Oregon flew in and we drove to Slovenia again, just because it’s there. The September photo was taken by Crystal, with thanks. The rest of the year I spent in Tuscany where I am still, hoping for a change of scenery soon.

Bestia was with me throughout the year as is his habit. Here are twelve selected moments. Happy birthday, bestia! You are nine which is probably more than me by now. But who is counting… As long as we are healthy and smiling. To many more years together!

For Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, hosted by John at Journeys with Johnbo: They say it’s your birthday…

The last day in my NaPoWriMo history

2018: The best kind of magic
Amore mentions
a Maremma sheepdog,
a huge white beast.

But that is only one half
of your mother’s gene pool.
The father was a bastard
because he ran away,
amore says.

She doesn’t mind either way.
You are coming
and whatever comes
she knows they will love you.

And then amore brings you
through the gate and sets you down.
(Read all.)
2019: K9
“Can I?” Nein,  
you cannot.

“Cats nine, how many lives have I?”
Let’s not find out.

My best friend
is my generation:

six dog years  
is 40 to 50 in human. 
(Read on.) 
2020: To my best friend (cento)
Words bounce.
Words, if you let them,
will do what they want to do
and what they have to do.

Philosophers say
man forms himself in dialogue.
I talk to you
as if you’re really there.

“I am so stupidly happy!
Adventure time!
And you bought me an ice cream,
and then we saw the UFO!” 
(Read all.)
2021: Loverman (dead man's monologue)
Messy business, both, loving and killing.
Why can’t we just get along? Really,
each man kills the thing he loves?

I’m tired of telling a silly, albeit
convincing story each time I hear:
“Who shall I say is calling?”

And now the time has come
and I’m deader than my deadest lover:
Each man may kill the thing he loves,
so why it is I who is calling? 
(Read all and click for more cemetery doors.)

This day in my blogging history

Published by Manja Maksimovič

A Slovenian in Italy for love. Blogger, photographer, translator and would-be writer who would be a writer if she wrote. Plus reluctant but emerging poet. Beware.

39 thoughts on “Day Eight & Lens-Artists PC: Happy K9, bestia!

  1. OMG, how I love the many selves of bestia–happy, happy birthday to your darling!🎉🐾💜 His 2014 photo is a heart-melter.😍 Awesome celebration with your alter egos–it sounds like you have a whole orchestra waiting to party. Do let them out to play! You never know, they might harmonize.🥰

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Happy Birthday to you, Bestia! You have grown from one cute little pup to one handsome boy. Manja–your alter egos are terrific. Not a favorite–they combine to make one fabulous person. 😘

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, K.! That’s an interesting line of thought. I bet there are different bestias too, sometimes I can see them. This April forces us to share possibly more than we intended… But it’s all good. We keep ourselves entertained this way.

      Like

  3. Ha…this was fun. Honestly, I can imagine you as all of these…you’re creative and talented and a lot of fun. Happy Birthday to Bestia. Looks like you got the gift❤ of being featured. Congrats again. Very well deserved! May all your egos rejoice today. Loved the poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Now, now…it is so difficult to pick a favourite, Manja! A cleaning lady once lived inside me, I buried her under a mound of dirty laundry! Haha!
    Congratulations once again on being featured and happy birthday to bestia.

    Liked by 1 person

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