Hear all about it!

Today's prompt can't be closer to my heart. As a qualified journalist and poet at heart, I can't not appreciate a prompt to write a poem based on a news article. I really like one of the suggested articles from which to draw inspiration: "Publo Escobar's 'Cocaine Hippos' May Be Restoring Colombia's Ecosystem".

There's a hippo in my lake

There's a hippo in my lake;

I lie - there's four

I bought them with blood money

just because I thought it funny

There's a hippo in my lake;

I lie again - there's six

Soon there will be many

and I wouldn't have to spend a penny

There's a hippo in my lake;

I lie - there's more

Soon, they'll all wreak havoc

in water and on shore

There's a hippo in my lake;

when I'm gone, there'll be scores

Perhaps they'll restore balance;

perhaps surprise us all.

Andrea Vermaak © 2020

The weird and wonderful

Ooh, I like the sound of today's challenge: to write a poem from the point of view of one person/animal/thing from Jheronimus Bosch's The Garden of Earthly Delights.

The Berry-Purple Head Man

He thought I was smitten -

I was not

He thought I liked his company -

I did not

He thought he was funny -

he was not

But he did amuse me,

fascinate me

He was weird,

he was captivating

I could not keep my eyes off

his berry-purple head

Andrea Vermaak © 2020

"Twenty Little Poetry Projects"

Our challenge today is to use all of Jim Simmerman's "Twenty Little Poetry Projects" to write a poem. I'll do my very best! This is bound to be absurd...

The stage

She was a swan, floating on stage,

though her wings were flesh not feathers

The stagnant air smelled of sweat and hairspray,

bloodied pointe shoes

and burnt matches to stop ribbons fraying

Hair in stiffly pulled back buns,

smothered in sticky gel;

not a hair was allowed out of place

The anxious violins of tension 

spun the dancer around the floor,

flailing, begging for her life,

While Annie will stand in the wings,

hoping that the reek will disappear

- it will affect the taste of her apple -

"Man, but this place is minging,"

She'll say

The dancer slips, but her wingless wings

let her glide across the floor

before she finally dies

in the stench

Andrea Vermaak © 2020

Dreamy

Today's prompt is to write a poem based on an image from a dream. I have a few recurring dreams, especially when I am under pressure. One of them has such an image, scene if you like, in it...

The Far Below

I stand atop a steep, steep cliff

and far below me is the sea;

the beach is full of people;

they're happy - you'd agree

There is a narrow path beside me

that some take in their stride,

but when I tried to walk it,

it vanishes, it hides

I cannot reach the Far Below,

I watch it from up high,

it sometimes pains me to know

I'll have to say goodbye

Andrea Vermaak © 2020

Rhyme

I know that the poetry convener of my local writing circle would love today's prompt because he loves...rhyme!

We are prompted to make a list of any ten words, generated in whatever fashion we fancy, and then use the suggested resource, RhymeZone, to identify two or four similar-sounding or rhyming words. We are then to use our completed list of words to write a poem, but we need not use every word. This should be fun...

My list

1. radio: flow, show
2. song: strong, wrong
3. fiddles: riddles, tarradiddles
4. tap: clap, wrap
5. drum: strum, glum
6. voice: choice, rejoice
7. dance: chance, prance
8. twirl: swirl, whirl
9. laugh: autograph, last half, staff
10. jig: dig, gig

The ceilidh

I was listening to the radio,

when halfway through that very show,

just before they played a song,

I heard a message and heard it strong

A ceilidh there would be with fiddles,

the presenter never told tarradiddles,

I knew that this would be my chance

to dance like I had never danced

With young strapping Scot I'll twirl,

he'll have my head all in a whirl;

indeed we'll toe-tap to the drum,

and clap in time to guitar strum

We'll jig as if we had no choice,

and as we dance the vine, rejoice!

Until the sweet, sweet end I'll laugh

and end up leaving with the staff

Andrea Vermaak © 2020

A special place

Our prompt today is to write a poem about a specific place, incorporating concrete details as much as possible. I know exactly what I want to write about!

The Scotsman's Lounge

Near the steep top of Cockburn Street,

close to The Royal Mile,

lay a cosy pub of sorts

that always makes me smile

See, every Sunday night at eight

the wee pub became full;

when Andy Chung began to play

you couldn't help leave your stool

We'd sing, we'd dance

and drink cheap ale;

an old wee lass would jive and jig,

her cheeks were flushed, not pale

Sid would dance with her at times,

he'd dance with everyone;

the warm, stale air would rise,

but no one would go home

Andy would play 'til midnight came

and we'd reluctantly move out,

the cold, crisp air felt colder still

with winter still about

I miss that time in Edinburgh;

all seemed right with my world,

but I'm grateful to have spent time there;

how else could these memories be told?

Andrea Vermaak © 2020

Life is a metaphor

It may be day six of a 21-day COVID-19 lockdown in South Africa, but it is the first day of National Poetry Writing Month again! It is an annual challenge which I excitedly anticipate each year because it stretches and hones my poetry writing skills like none other.

Today's challenge is to write a self-portrait poem in which we "make a specific action a metaphor" for our lives; "one that typically isn't done all that often, or only in specific circumstances."

I think this challenge is very apt given the worldwide crisis we are facing because many of us are working from home, socially distancing and generally rethinking the way in which we live.

As excruciating as social distancing and isolation may be to some (I do respect this - truly), I am enjoying the peace and quiet that is much needed after many rough months in my life. Therefore, I would like to write a poem on a lighter note - from a positive perspective - using various figures of speech.

When Life became a hermit

Life became a hermit,

huddled in her flat,

safe from strange happenings

She washed the dishes,

and dusted at midday;

saved her leftover lunches

Life played her music

and danced all around

between her many emails

She sat on the grass,

sketching a tiny clover,

enjoying the afternoon sun

Life watched movies,

and had video chats,

playing D&D with friends

She did not mind

the peace, the quiet;

in-between the busy times

Andrea Vermaak © 2020