Poetry Day #26

Today’s prompt was to take 5 minutes and write something by each of these words/phrases/categories. Normally this is totally my jam, today I am not feeling it.

Almanac Questionnaire

Weather:
Flora:
Architecture:
Customs:
Mammals/reptiles/fish:
Childhood dream:
Found on the Street:
Export:
Graffiti:
Lover:
Conspiracy:
Dress:
Hometown memory:
Notable person:
Outside your window, you find:
Today’s news headline:
Scrap from a letter:
Animal from a myth:
Story read to children at night:
You walk three minutes down an alley and you find:
You walk to the border and hear:
What you fear:
Picture on your city’s postcard:                

I am going to keep this though, as I feel certain I will want to go back and actually do this exercise at some point – I am guessing that there are a ton of poems in here somewhere, just not today.

Haiku

If uninspired

Is it really a poem

Or is it bullshit

I got a text last night, from my

aunt; she had found an old poem I had written about my grandparents. It was rather irreverent, as is my nature, even though I adore(d) my grandparents. Grandfather has been gone for years, and Granny is still alive and closing in on 100.

The poem had a couple of good qualities, but a few parts that sucked, so I am going to rework it here, using some of Grandfather’s favorite things to say.

REMIX

There once was a beauty named Betty

And a cutie named Bobby

And it seems they had kids as a hobby

He was young and ambitious

And started to make plenty of coin

At home he produced six fruits from his loin

Jane was the oldest and as luck would have it

She went off to college and came home with a daughter

I was the first to learn of Grandfather’s special water

Back in those days Betty and Bob liked to party

And attend football games, hollering out at each fumble

Post game celebrations found him singing It’s Hard To Be Humble

There was the time I caught him with grilled cheese in his pocket

I found it hilarious, and was happy to witness

That very first time he told me he had a friend that made a million bucks minding his own god damn business.

In memory of my grandfather, Bob Eisner, the original good time Charlie. He never knew a stranger, could have a ball anywhere he went, and while the problems were many, I always adored him.