This poem was inspired by today’s The Daily Post prompt: rapid. My first thought was the line from the old Clement Moore poem: “More rapid than eagles, his coursers they flew.” From there it morphed to the last line of the poem below. I only had to come up with a premise and nine more lines.
Photo by R.G. Daniel.
The choral director mopped his brow.
His soprano soloist mooed like a cow.
The tenors and basses howled like hounds.
He cut them off. “You’re out of bounds.
“I want a tone that’s mellow and soft.”
The alto section yelled and scoffed.
To get his charges under restraint
He doused them with leftover azure paint.
Instead of calming, they kicked and threw.
More rabid than beagles, his choristers blue.
I’m not using the NaPoWriMo prompt today. When I looked at The Daily Post prompt, notable, it reminded me of notes. I used to be an elementary general music teacher, and last night I had a recurring dream: I suddenly had to go back to work, and they gave me an unfamiliar room and no class lists, and I had no lesson plans prepared, and my first class arrived…
Young voices singing slightly out of tune
Their fervor making up for lack of skill
Recorders blaring, grating, sounding shrill
My music teacher’s ears from harm immune
Round hand drums pounding jungle rhythms loud
Slim rhythm sticks articulating beat
The xylophones play melodies so sweet
While dancers improvise their movements proud
My chord progressions steadily keep time
While tambourines crescendo to the end
Triangles and maracas with them blend
While glockenspiels and finger cymbals chime
Not long ago these were my daily themes
But now they’re relegated to my dreams
Instead of using the NaPoWriMo prompt, I went with The Daily Post one.
Visible from the highway
The network of steel girders
Held the promise of
Industrious accountants and
But the deal fell through
Beams red with rust
Never roofed, never sided
I’m utilizing The Daily Post prompt today for my poem.
“Crunchy won’t do—
It makes Wilbur sound good to eat.
You’ve got to find me something else.”
The rat sniffed
And took off in a tiff
To search for another word that would satisfy the spider.
He brought her back a label.
I don’t know how that applies to a pig,
Or how being preshrunk would save him from slaughter.
Find me something better.”
Templeton grumbled but reluctantly skulked away.
Soon he returned with a final offering
torn from a box of laundry detergent.
“With New Radiant Action.
Wilbur, are you radiant?” Charlotte asked.
The pig danced about,
flashing his dazzling smile and batting his sparkling eyes.
“It’ll have to do,” the weary spider conceded
And set about altering her web design.
My response to the Daily Post prompt.
Your indifference suggests you don’t know
How the throw pillow came to be shredded,
But the nannycam will show
You vigorously masticating the quilted cover
And violently shaking the stuffing out
Transforming the couch into a ski jump.
You know I have to go to work.
I can’t stay home all day to entertain you
And keep you out of mischief.
You could occupy yourself with your Kong toy
(Get the treat, why don’t you)
And then nap for a few hours
(Like Spike used to).
You give me no choice.
I’m buying you a crate.
Think of it as protective custody.
My response to the Daily Post prompt: congregate.
To congregate in the narthex.
Pick up a bulletin.
To enter the sanctuary.
Sit in the last pew, next to the center aisle.
To praise God
With psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs.
To hear the Good News:
Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.
To commune with the believers—
Bread and wine, body and blood.
To go in peace
To love and serve the Lord.
My offering for today’s Daily Post Prompt.
Or settling for what you don’t really want
Or with (com) promise
I would rather be uncompromising
Than promising away my joy
Or settling at the concession stand
Life is a series of compromises
And with every transaction
I’m farther away from my dreams
Why not a promise
That satisfies my convictions
My confections of perfection