11 April 2010

April Poem A Day Challenge Day 11

Poetic Asides: For today's prompt, take the phrase "The Last (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make that the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Some examples: "The Last Train," "The Last Kiss," "The Last Time I'll Give Directions to a Complete Stranger," "The Last Dance," etc.

Nothing exciting for today. Had to readjust my mind to stop thinking in clich├ęs when I read the prompt, because it immediately latched on to every well known "Last" phrase I've ever known or heard of. That's the danger of being constantly bombarded by information – tv, radio, outdoor advertising, Internet, text messages, Twitter and all the rest.

You just can't remember where you heard something, and many times you think it was your idea, but later come to find out you read/heard/saw it somewhere, and it burrowed into your subconscious not to rear its ugly head until the most opportune time.

To outwit it, I chose to write a simple story poem. "The Last Attempt", about a woman's efforts to gain the attentions of a man she is interested in, and what causes her finally to give up. It came out a bit more sarcastic than I intended, but there is no arguing with the muse at times.

Because it was so nice and warm today, lulling Wyomingites into the mistaken idea winter's over, here's a poem about spring, from Gerard Manley Hopkins, who is, in my opinion, a highly underrated poet. I like the way he plays with words and rhythm, and the images he can conjure up. It almost makes me want to try my hand at sonnets again.


by Gerard Manley Hopkins

NOTHING is so beautiful as spring—
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden.—Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.


1 comment:

Eddy said...

The last word...

Part I
Life on the streets-please
it’s what you make it!
You like to look over your shoulder
Keep playing the game
do you even know thier name?
or, are you just insane!
What about the children-you know
the ones you fathered-
and forgotten about?
except when it’s convenient-right-
Shorties mother is getting tired
You’re worse than a dead beat dad
using her for her body
and a place to crash
before you know it
you’re out on your ass!
A poor child without an idol
thinking the “g” is a way of life
busting guns
running drugs
another mind wasted on you!
And-that’s just the first one
the other women didn’t bother to tell you
they saw failure in your eyes!
You know your mom bought them clothes
pays your bills and feeds you
she co-signed that car
anything for her baby…
You can cry the white man oppresses
What about black on black crime?
Who put that gun in your hand
and gave you a corner to work-
Not me, try your homey
You claim life is tough
how would you know-
drugging, fighting-using women
You’re not part of the problem
you ARE the problem
Life on the streets-
it’s bad because you’re the disease!
Part II
Hey, you’re back-remember me?
Now I’m educated
and civilized
that’s right, I left the street!
got tired of watching your ass
always broke
always high
following hip-hop artists life-
knowing you’ll never be them!
I got a job
so what?
I’m honest, trustworthy-and
my son can look up to me!
I’ve done time
I didn’t let it do me though
I corrected my bads
and live the good
does that make me soft?
I see you’re still sporting the same gear-
momma got fed up, huh?
Some punk chased you away
Now you’re ready to put a cap there
Won’t you ever learn?
doesn’t it matter-
people don’t fear you
they don’t even bother!
That gold chain ain’t status
it’s just you frontin’
you stole it anyway
from a twelve year old!
Oh, I forgot
You’re the king of the street
who got their car repossessed
can’t read or write
and shortie’s mother moved
Now what?
Just water under the bridge
or you gonna do something about it!
I once looked up to you
But realized my eyes
those all knowing orbs
never left the ground.
I can’t afford Gucci,
Tommy, Prada or Armani
but I have my dignity
and a woman who cares
I’ll fight the struggle
and take the lows with the highs
In the end
they’ll call me a man.
The streets are yours…
I’ve grown up!
Part III
Just six months ago
you said things were good
King of the hood!
doing your thing…
You forgot about your son
by the way, he’s fine
he calls a new man Dad
who married shortie
and she’s lookin’ fine too
thought you should know-
My life,
just got married
now she’s my WIFE-
sent you an invite
but the letter was returned
occupant moved
and not even a call
did I mean anything at all
or was I just someone
your hustle
to take the fall?
Your momma’s sick
won’t even talk about you
doc says it’s a broken heart
her love was true
now-don’t you feel like a fool!
using women-
all part of the game.
Life on the streets you told me,
right here-
I’m glad I stopped playing
Wifey is expecting
another child to raise
the job has gotten better
and I have the LORD to praise!
I offered advice,
and a helping hand-
You called me a bird
by you, I still stood.
The sun is setting
I gotta go
dinner is ready
can’t be late.
growing up on the block
I’ll never forget the memories you gave
I still can’t believe it
I’m talking to your grave!