Day 29: Twenty Little Poetry Projects Poem

So I had no idea where I was going with this penultimate NaPoWriMo prompt, but you had to cram 20 writing bits into one poem. It was indeed a challenge, so much so that I gave myself permission to write badly. I wrote this piece in the list’s order (or at least I tried to), which you can see if you click the link above. It’s the main reason why this work isn’t so cohesive at the moment. That, and read the second sentence above.

I’m sure that some lines would be launching points for new poems in the future. It’s also something I would rewrite when I have enough time to do so. And I must say, the last line is my favorite.

Twenty Little Poetry Projects Poem: Senseless Poetry Cram Session [wt]

If you have a heart of gold,

then your head is lighter than your chest.

* * *

The sky doesn’t match the color of your eyes,

but you can smell the ozone after the rainstorm.

The clouds send Morse code messages on

your skin. “Pitter, patter,” the raindrops say

as they fall on your tongue.

Do you taste the ozone wavering in your nose?

* * *

Roscoe sits underneath the Joe Louis’ Fist

because it makes him feel invincible.

* * *

Your head is heavier than your chest –

how much does your heart weigh in carats?

* * *

Who knew that “fit” means two (or more) different things?

* * *

If you swallow a watermelon seed, it will grow inside you.

* * *

“Sprite is lemonade?”

* * *

The glass house of trust couldn’t be more fragile than an ant’s life.

* * *

Sometimes, there’s nothing more to a chessboard than

decor if no one knows how to play the sport.

* * *

Roscoe could swim to Canada, if he wants to.

* * *

Shelli is running out of things to say in this “poem.”

Does it show?

Don’t worry, Shelli will end it soon.

* * *

Dusty leaves are covered with pollen,

trees spreading its allergens everywhere.

I’m going to chop down all of the cottonwood

trees so I won’t sneeze to death!

* * *

Ouais, mon œil!

[“Yeah right” en Français]

* * *

That same tree is fanning itself from the heat

and rustling its leaves so the birds will

get out of its hair.

* * *

Jewelry boxes make fine rib cages, don’t they?

* * *

– Michelle D. Hooks


Copyright © Michelle D. Hooks 2014

NaPoWriMo 2014

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