Hello! How are you?!
It’s day 1 of NaPo agaaaain! Yaaay!
Apparently it is the 20th year of this poetry challenge (and I think it is my…sixth?…time participating in it?) so I hopped over to Maureen Thorson’s site as soon as I got up, and read the first prompt:
“They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but they never said you can’t try to write a poem based on a book cover — and that’s your challenge for today! Take a look through Public Domain Review’s article on “The Art of Book Covers.”… With any luck, one or more of these will catch your fancy, and open your mind to some poetic insights.”
I zoomed down the pictures and alighted on this one:
Then my brain put together a story for the woman throughout the rest of the day…
She fanned the flames of discontent,
An eye for detail always bent
On foraging a social scene
For fodder, so she could be mean.
Natur’lly tall and slim was she,
Formidable and uppity –
She sneered at, then looked down on, most
Smiled for (but despised) her hosts.
Influential, old-moneyed,
Dismissive around those in need;
She could not countenance do-gooders,
And dodged obsequious new ‘suitors’.
Dancing, singing, art or craft,
To this closed woman all was chaff;
She had the skill but not the inkling
For poetry or iv’ry tinkling.
Her gifts horticulturally,
Served her in society,
For people came from miles around
To wander in her estate’s grounds.
With unguessed generosity
Her household would provide the tea,
And many tables would be set
For contemplation, tete-a-tete.
She’d transform in those hallowed beds –
Pruning, wat’ring, deading heads –
Skirts all muddied, boots fair caked,
She planted, dug – dreamed as she raked.
Her flowers were her source of pride:
With others’ children by her side
She’d give free lessons, proffer Latin,
As sim’lar ladies discuss satin.
Many kind schemes she let take place
Enveloped in her work’s embrace;
However inadvertently
Benevolent she came to be.
And when at last, care-worn and grey,
The Good Lord took her far away,
The vicar was then inundated
With eulogies for the belated.
Adults with children of their own
Reminisced about the things they’d grown
When that ‘sweet lady’ held their hand
Gave time to help them understand.
Her passion scattered smiles and seeds –
Enthusiasm roots and breeds –
Although oft adults peaked her ire
Children thrived around her fire.
I had meant to ease myself into the first prompt (as I am pretty busy this weekend), but obviously that is not what happened 😉 I even got a bit emotional about this fictional character, haha!
Take care, and I hope to catch you tomorrow!
Monty X
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