For today’s prompt, write a hiding poem. You could be hiding. Someone else could be hiding. Something could be hidden. Or maybe there could even be a hidden meaning. I’m flexible with any interpretations poets want to put on the prompt. Have at it.
Funny thing, this prompt intersects with something that has been on my mind lately, anyway. I didn't think to make poesy out of it--I had been contemplating it along other lines. But perhaps poeming it will bring it down to its essential elements, and then perhaps I will be able to figure it out...
Inside the Rabbit Hole...
"Who AAAARRREEE you?", he said,
Gazing over my head
From his secure spot
On the elevated mushroom...
I looked around...
That echoing sound
Fell like a swat
Of a fly in the hushed room...
He couldn't mean me,
Not myself, could he?
My name is my own.
But no one else was there.
And it wasn't his task,
To accost me, to ask
Who I was, in that tone--
Well, just how did he dare
To demand such as I
To self-identify?
As if he had some right
To intrude on my life!
Again, I looked around.
No, there wasn't a sound.
And the imposing sight
Of his smoke-wreath was rife
With foreboding, with power.
In that very hour
I knew that my soul
Still had some way to go
To complete such a task--
For when someone might ask
"Who are you?" the truth, whole,
And entire? I don't know!
© Aisling the Bard, 2012. All Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment