Today, I’d like to challenge you to read a few of the poems from Spoon River Anthology, and then write your own poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone who is dead.
When I was reading the post about the anthology and then the optional prompt I thought of this family when I was a young child. The family was not very clean. Now looking back, perhaps they didn’t have the money to pay for detergents and soaps. Nearly everyone in town knew where they lived and although I am ashamed to admit this openly, we all used to hold our breath when we passed by their house on the bus. It is so mean and I am not proud of it but they came to mind. I think they may have come to mind because it is a family that is now haunting the living as revenge to all those people who were so cruel to them in life. This family is still alive as far as I know and I wish them no harm. I think if they knew, and maybe they did, then they would find some “humor” in their haunting!
Before, they were known by the odor sent forth from their windows and doors.
Now they lay together rotting into the earth emitting an odor much worse than any that came from their windows and doors.
And he who lay beside them must live in death with an odor repulsive through dirt with no windows or doors.
Together they rot in peace All sending their odor to all passersby as they did in life.
I’m alone on the side of the road as I watch my tire deflate I think about having a beer but by then it will be too late So waiting I sit on the ball as I really have no good seat and wait for the tow truck to arrive as I space out and look at my feet I sit and think, “there is no hope” When in the horizon I see there is tow truck coming along and it’s coming there to help me. The driver was happy to see my good seat He said he played basketball He told me he had never been beat. So I laughed and tossed him the ball.
One of my most favorite books is “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho The line I chose is: “God has a prepared path for us to follow. We just have to read the omens he has left for us.”
Upon My Shoulders
Upon the shoulders of the man there was a feeling firm he thought it was a bad omen it was his true God’s arm He didn’t know how to react for he was slightly scared All he knew was God was there and that he really cared.
In honor of the always-becoming nature of poetry, I challenge you today to select a photograph from the perpetually disconcerting @SpaceLiminalBot, and write a poem inspired by one of these odd, in-transition spaces.
Walking down the aisle, looking at what is to be the rest of your life flashing before your eyes but knowing deep in your heart that you have already pondered it all and you know that the minute you say “I do” there will be no regrets because love conquers all!
My mind turns toward sorrow on even the sunniest of days thinking of the ashes in a cremation urn but the salt water breaks the spell the plants with all their brilliant colors connect my mind Warm hands caressing my back Able to find peace falling asleep only to wake to the fact that eternity is not real and fear of the unknown can be crippling.