Poems for Play and . . . Penance?
Last week I made a little joke about writing penitential poems. And apparently, I was the only one who knew it was a joke. But even then, I hadn't guessed it would be a joke on me! (Typical.)
Two sets of prompts that came in seemed tailored to the theme, and the player who sent in the most "generic" pair still had to ask more questions to be clear on what we were doing. I wish I had said, "In this game, we do whatever works . . ."
Here's what worked for me this month . . .
Question: Whose fault is it?
A puddle of milk on the kitchen tiles,
The tell-tale clues of their moustached smiles,
A chorus of crumbs on their fingertips,
And the laugh that longed to escape their lips . . .
I didn't have to look too far
To know who took the cookie jar.
It's short and sweet (and not at all sorry) this month, mainly because I wanted to publish this as early as possible. We have a new player and I desperately want to make a good first impression. (Will he like the liberties I took with his word, though?)
I'm also kind of surprised at how it turned out. The first poem I tried was inspired by all the high-rise apartment buildings that are going up in my part of the world. I can't stand them and everything they represent, and I was prepared to write a really angry poem about who should take the blame for them. And it was going really well, as all indignant writing does, except that there was no way to fit "chorus" into it.
How I got from there to here is one of those mysteries of the creative process. =P