Looking at a Better Bop

This is my response to the NPM Scavenger Hunt to write a Bop. The Bop is a form composed of 3 stanzas with a single line refrain after each stanza. the first stanza is 6 lines presenting the problem followed by 8 lines that explore/expand the problem, and the last stanza has 6 lines that document the solution or the failed attempt.

In a former life she was given free reign
There in the squalor of second hand sofas
She slept curled or stretched out at leisure
A bad habit of lounging on the furniture
And she felt at home slumbering in beds
That were not hers and that is a real problem

No dogs or dog hair on the new furniture!

What are we to do but attempt a reset
Strongly worded “No” and “Down”
Just make her nervous and frightened
We need a more effective training technique
She is compliant when we are present
Night brings her to the sofa, chair, guest bed
No piece of furniture is safe
The constant cleanup continues

No dogs or dog hair on the new furniture

We’ve placed tin foil on all the chairs
Scattered doggie beds in every room
We’ve deployed noxious smells to no avail
Even a mouse trap doesn’t deter her
The last resort is a special crinkly cover
To repel and protect the leather sofa

No dogs or dog hair on the new furniture

Poor Mochi. It has been quite the learning curve for her. She loves an over stuffed chair or soft pillow. Her former owner let her sleep on all the furniture – until she got a boyfriend who was allergic to dogs. Then there was a single chair that was off limits. She adapted but wasn’t all that happy about it. She then went to college with the daughter of her owner, who being a college student allowed Mochi to sleep anywhere – and she did. Then she came to us. Because it was difficult to break her of the habit we just shrugged. Then we moved. All the furniture was sold (except for a few pieces). The new furniture became off limits to Mochi. She knew she wasn’t permitted on it. Instead, with 5 comfy dog beds, a big stuffed chair (that belonged to my grandmother purchased in 1974) and a twin bed just for her, she was banned from all other furniture. Yes we have aluminum foil on the recliners and the new sofa. And for Christmas, Sparky asked for and got a crinkly sofa cover that will protect the leather and repel Mochi… So far the sofa cover hasn’t been deployed.

Looking for My Gym Membership

This is my second post for the Power of Poems Scavenger Hunt for this year’s National Poetry Month (NPM). This prompt is to write a Sonnet. Sonnets are traditionally written where the sonnet’s first 7 lines discuss a problem and the last 7 lines suggest a solution. The sonnet is written in iambic pentameter with a rhyme scheme of a/b/a/b/c/d/c/d/e/f/e/f/g/g. (At least the Shakespearean form has this above rhyme scheme). The theme of the sonnet should identify your personal issue and come up with a suggested solution – it is all about self improvement!

The issue with my weight remains it’s true
Between the doughnut and chocolate creams
I crave caloric comfort when I’m blue
And diet strict all day but eat in dreams

The pounds won’t leave I’ve tried but they remain
Pink salt, ice water, cabbage soup I’ve done
The loss is fleeting but the fat I retain
New Year resolve the time is now begun

Lifestyle, life change is what I need you see
Gym membership and Tai Chi walking fit
Increase activity soon a new me
New clothes, new style, new hair, same heart admit

War fight and battles won or lost I rage
Old habits are so hard to change with age

I had to get my free membership code from my insurance company. I had to reinstall the app on my phone so I could just scan myself into Planet Fitness. Then I had to dig out the yoga pants and exercise shirts (the ones that breathe so I don’t end up soaked in sweat). I even had to find those pesky ear buds so I can listen to tunes on my phone. And lastly I had to hunt down my combination lock. Not at all a truly difficult list but it was frustrating. I used to know where those things were located – before the move. Their location is still a mystery (the earbuds and lock – not my clothes). But the exercise has begun and I’m seeing some progress. Not so much in weight or inches but in stamina.

Looking Beneath the Surface

The W3 Poetry Prompt is provided by Marion Horton. As this week’s Poet of the Week, she is asking us to write a poem of 20 lines or less on the theme of “Beneath the Surface”, whether that is in the soil or within us.

There the voracious trees send ravenous roots
And the cynical grass battles the reverent thorns
Which in competition for nutrients for finite fruits
All the while the dainty daffodil searches to adorn

In sunshine shy her glorious gown before she fades
The tearful tulips and fearful flowers share her fate
To join the creaking bones and youths and maids
Who die and to the soil return to microbes that await

Beneath the surface transcendent obscurity abides
With magic efficiency the soil recycles organic death
And from morose corpse the spirit divine divides
The soul immortal and memories and bitter breath

And thus in every bashful bush and haughty oak
Are trace elements with sticky sunshine bound
Harvested from hapless beast and man bespoke
A resurrection corporal and physically bound

All this on a molecular level beyond prying eyes
The Creator’s miraculous plan every spring’s surprise!

I usually post my W3 poem on Friday mornings but due to the NPM scavenger hunt, this is going up on Thursday evening! Enjoy!

Looking at Somonka Love

Today starts off National Poetry Month (and this isn’t an April Fool’s joke). The Power of Poems Scavenger Hunt starts off with a Somonka. This Japanese form consists of 2 Tanka (syllable count of 5/7/5/7/7 without rhyme) written as love letters. Although traditionally a collaborative form, one author can write both. The challenge is to write love letters to yourself taking two different points of view.

I like what I see
Reflection of a good heart
Mirror cannot lie
I view innate gentleness
Compassion for man and beast

He likes what he sees
A body full of passion
Love without reserve
That time and age perfected
His eyes are the true mirror

As a person and a woman I am prone to being able to list ad infinitum all my flaws and shortcomings. That is the easiest task in the world. We are encouraged to look with a critical eye and compare ourselves to all others. At some point (perhaps in the 1990s) the concept that being satisfied and even happy with what you looked like sprang to the collective conscience. Things like “self-care” and “self-love” started showing up in magazines and self help books were written on the subject. I was self aware. I was also confident. But that didn’t protect me from insecurity about my appearance. When I started dating Sparky, I started to see myself through his eyes. And that became the only mirror I needed!

Looking to Scavenge the Month

Yes, it is nigh on National Poetry Month (NPM). That means it is time for my annual poetry scavenger hunt. Last year I decided to explore the combining of poetry forms. It was a lot of fun. This year I’m shifting from form to function. Poems are written for many reasons and I hope you join me in exploring all the whys and wherefores in the Power of Poems Scavenger Hunt.

The rules are the same:
1. Do as many or as few of the prompts as your muse dictates.
2. Do them in order or randomly.
3. Combine multiple prompts if you want to and it works…
The MUST rules are few – Link this post on your page so that anyone who wants to join in can find the prompts. And link your post in the comments here so I can find your wonderful poetry!

Without further fanfare here are the scavenger hunt prompts:
1. Somonka – write this Japanese form consisting of 2 Tanka (syllable count of 5/7/5/7/7 without rhyme) written as love letters. Although traditionally a collaborative form, one author can write both. Make this love letters to yourself taking two different points of view.

2. Sonnet – traditionally the sonnet’s first 7 lines discuss a problem and the last 7 lines suggest a solution. The sonnet is written in iambic pentameter with a rhyme scheme of a/b/a/b/c/d/c/d/e/f/e/f/g/g. Identify your issue and come up with a suggested solution – it is all about self improvement!

3. The Bop – A form of 3 stanzas with a refrain following each stanza. the 1st stanza of 6 lines presents a problem, the 2nd stanza of 8 lines explores the problem, and the 3rd stanza of 6 lines documents the solution or failed attempt to solve the problem. The refrain is a single line repeated after each stanza. This time look at your world and try to fix what you see wrong!

4. Jisei – A traditional Japanese Buddhist death poem which discusses death and the meaning of life in the last moments before death. This form uses the syllabic form of the Tanka (5/7/5/7/7) and is generally serious though it can be humorous. We have all mused on our own demise – try to do it in this form.

5. Acrostic – This form requires that the first letter of each line forms a message. It was used for messages in code between lovers, spies, and mischief-makers. Write a message to other poets.

6. Dirge – This is a poem of any form that is a lament for the dead. Focus on victims of violence.

7. Rhyming Recipe – A rhyming poem written in couplets that provides a way to recall a recipe. You can use any rhyming form (with couplets) and it must describe steps to prepare a culinary dish. Put your favorite recipe in this form to share with the NPM participants!

8. Paean – This is a song of praise or triumph in poem form. It originated in ancient Greece as a way of thanking gods for favors received. Paeans can take any form but ballads, odes, and lyric verses are the preferred vehicles. Write a Paean in thanksgiving of new life.

9. Concrete Poem – This is a shape poem that takes the form of the poem’s topic. Pick any topic!

10. Minnesang – is a 12th -14th century German courtly love poem built around a knight’s attempt to court a lady who does NOT return his favor. The iambic tetrameter (8 syllables) with a rhyme scheme of a/b/a/b/c/c or a/b/b/c/a/a. Write about your brush with unrequited love…

11. Aubade – This is a form about lovers separating at dawn or about greeting dawn. There is no specific rhyme, meter, syllable count, or line length. Use your imagination!

12. Clerihew – A poem written as a humorous quatrain about a famous person written with a rhyme scheme of a/a/b/b. Meter does not matter but the lines are often of odd lengths for humorous effect. Pick your favorite celebrity and go crazy!

13. Eintou – An African-American form. The name is from West Africa and means pearl. This form tries to impart pearls of wisdom in heightened language using a cyclical syllabic or word count form. The poem of 7 lines is written with syllable or word counts as follows: 2/4/6/8/6/4/2. What words of wisdom do you want to send out into the blogosphere?

Looking at a Cameo

This week the W3 poetry prompt is provide by the talented Lesley Scoble. She has asked us to compose a Cameo. This form was created by the British poet Alice Maude Spokes. It is meant to be a snapshot in time written in 7 lines with a strict syllable count of 2-5-8-3-8-7-2. The poem should rely heavily on imagery and use minimalism. Lesley has granted us the freedom of any topic…

Screams rain
Bullets pierce, blood spurts
War kills, children die, rich men laugh
Bombs, more bombs
Drought, famine, plagues, death stalks all men
Mass graves grow blood red flowers
Too late

Against the will of the people, the president of my beleaguered country has started an ill-advised war with Iran. The repercussions are global and deadly. We are being dragged into a war that makes no sense. My fear is that we are headed into WWIII. There will be no winners. The mad men who are greedily counting the riches they will amass selling death fail to notice that a world wide war will reduce their monies to worthless coin, pointless paper, and their ingots of gold will become nothing more than doorstops. When economies collapse and disease wipes out whole populations, climate change makes most of the land non-arable, then and only then will these money grubbing war-mongers realize their mistakes. But it will be too late. I apologize for this downer of a post. I’m just really angry and feeling powerless.

Looking at Detective Evans’ Formal Attire

Detective Evans loves her family. She loves her mother. She even loves the prickly relatives. She does not love wearing formal gowns and high heels…

I’d just returned home from the latest murder scene. Criminals must instinctively know that cops do not like to root around in shrubbery, especially juniper bushes. My arm looked like a pin cushion from all the prickles on that stinking bush. It paid off though; I fished out the victim’s underwear. My clock indicated I had less than 60 minutes to clean up and hit the road to suburbia.

I hate to shave my legs. I’ve expended a lot of energy avoiding any event that requires putting on a dress. Besides there aren’t any dresses that really go with a shoulder holster. Who knew my parents were going to throw a 60th wedding anniversary party and coerce me into attending, in a dress. Not just any dress, it had to be formal. I considered not going. It was a nice two minute fantasy. I was praying that my cell would ring so my razor burned legs and I could scoot out of that party. That too was a daydream.

To my left at the table was my Aunt Erdmuthe, with fists full of bobby pins holding her bun on the back of her head. I’m not sure why she won’t speak to me but I’m good with it. On my right was my terminally shy cousin Jerrod. There was no mystery there. He was a literature major, wrote his thesis on Rudyard Kipling, and obviously the result of his parent’s one time coitus. My sister Deirdre with her husband Andrew and my brother Patrick with his wife Mary Catherine rounded out the table. Both of them made a point of commenting on my dress. At least the food was good. Things were looking up after a couple whiskey sours when my phone finally rang. My mother grabbed my arm as I was making my exit and forced me to pose for a picture. I guess she needed photographic evidence that I was indeed in a fancy dress. A quick stop at the gas station and I was in my normal clothes. I figure I can drop that dress off at the rental shop tomorrow.

P.S. Detective Evans is going on vacation for National Poetry Month. She will return after the NPM Scavenger Hunt! I hope you all join the fun and write some scavenger hunt poems!

Looking for the Perfect Surprise

This is another Blackout Poem from Barbara Kingsolver’s book Pigs in Heaven from page 81.

I see the city, the city of babies
We live too loud
It was the smell
It’s nothing, a planned surprise
Serene, she knows, taken in
Long – short was one
Named, named, named
In this world the truth
You know
I think
You need
I wish
I call and laugh
Studies meaning
Think for a minute – regard
Look over perfect soils
Observe the new

We are heading into the Easter Triduum shortly. Palm Sunday is on March 29th and that starts Holy Week. I’m ready for the planned surprise of the empty tomb. I’m ready for the TRUTH. I’m hoping my heart is the perfect soil for growing this pure love…

Looking to Shine Brightly

This time around the W3 Poet of the Week is Dennis “Stonehead” Johnstone. His prompt is to write a 20 to 25 line poem with the theme of “Be the Lighthouse”. He detailed several possible angles to take – literal, metaphorical, illusionary, delusional or false. This was a definite challenge…

Let your light shine I was told
Be brilliant and glow so bright
A beacon for young and old
Show them the way through dark night

I lived up to all their needs
No shirking of jobs assigned
Pointing the way for good deeds
Careful to gently remind

Mandate to show the right way
Gave directions how to go
I was forgotten by day
Light under a bushel – No

Obstacles I’ve overcome
Just to be a shining star
Obsolete they call me dumb
Still my warning reaches far

No one wants to listen now
Light pollution dims my eye
Cell phones give the where and how
Spent my all and soon I die

A bleak ending to this poem but it is what is happening. The moral compass is busted. Like so many who have advocated for freedom and justice, their voices (their light) has been dimmed or extinguished. The information fed to the public is twisted and the truth is obscured. With AI and the preponderance of “deep fakes” it has become more and more difficult to distinguish manufactured events from realty…

Looking at Detective Evans’ New Phone

Detective Evans is expanding her horizons with the dance lessons. She’d always wanted to learn to tap dance but as the youngest of 9 children, there was never any money available for luxuries so no ballet or tap dance lessons. She’s determined to make up for lost time!

The phone rang and the cat went airborne. I try not to set the ringer volume to maximum but I had adjusted it during my lesson so that I could hear it above the music and the tap dancing. The middle of the night is never a good time to get a call. Cheap scotch made my tongue feel like it was wrapped in lamb’s wool as I groped for my cellphone. I miss my landline. All the buttons had braille dots and I could dial or answer without burning my retinas from the light on the display. I mumbled and listened. Within ten minutes I was on the road headed to another murder scene.

There were flood lights. I hate flood lights. I clipped my badge to the neck of my sweatshirt. It’s amazing how much cooler it is by the water. The body had been dragged up the beach to the lifeguard stand. She was wrapped in a serape and seeping water into the sand. The two kids that had discovered her were perched on the edge of the boardwalk clutching each other. Love is a wonderful thing but button-fly jeans are not conducive to dressing quickly when you get to third base and a corpse calls you out. Romeo and Juliet were damp and their teeth rattled in the Spring night air. The curfew violation was not going to happen again, I was pretty sure, so I had the officer send them home.

Our little corpse was naked except for the wet wrap and a large tattoo covering her right shoulder, front to back and spilling over onto her arm and neck. I had the officer focus his Maglite on her neck where I could make out the word succubus. I’d seen that name before but couldn’t remember where or when. It took me a little while to finally get it entered into the web browser of my new smart phone but I’m starting to see its usefulness. It brought up the name with the definition of Naamah. I was sure I knew why this one was dead and who’d done it. The murder weapon was wrapped up with her, a 3 foot section of cast iron pipe. Sammy D’Angelo’s prostitutes never leave. He runs a “til death do us part” operation.

By the time I finished, the birds were awake and singing. That created a strange backdrop as the ambulance crew loaded the body onto a stretcher that kept sinking into the sand. I knew that the day was going to be a rough one, so stopped to get the industrial sized coffee on my way home. I fed Blacktop, took a quick shower and finished the coffee. I even had time to warm it up before I rolled into work. I’m going to guess the little demon is in the system. If we’re lucky we can trace her latest bail money to Mr. D’Angelo. I’m feeling lucky.

I’ve included the 5 word prompt (bird, stop, sink, strange(r), spring) from the Procrastinators’ Weekly Writing Prompt #4 for March 8th.