The one
You keep all my secrets… My personal confidant.
Unafraid to always be the one to strike the conversation.
My better half.
A Song for Ife (prompt 15)
(according to myth, Ife is the place where the Yoruban people believe the gods first came down to earth and founded the world)
When Oludmare the supreme deity founded the world, all glory, all glory,
He sent two brothers to do the work. Praise him, praise him.
He sent Obatala to create the earth. Honor him, honor him.
Obatala was given some dirt, a rooster and a palm nut. All glory, all glory.
Obatala discovered palm wine on the way and he drank it.
Intoxicated and in a stupor he fell asleep. So bad, so bad.
His brother Odudawa stole the three items of creation, while he slept,
Then climbed down a chain from heaven to earth. Praise him, praise him.
He threw the handful of dirt upon the primordial sea, and
Placed the chicken upon the dirt to scratch. Scratch-scratch.
It scattered the dirt and created all the land where Ife would be built. Scratch-scratch.
Odudawa made a hole and put the palm seed in the earth. Glory, glory.
A great tree with sixteen branches grew, one for each clan
In the Ife state. Oduduwa became the ruler of the kings. Praise him, praise him.
Odudawa created the world. The square world is his land.
Obatala was angry, indeed he was, and forever after
The brothers fought over who founded the world. So sad, so sad.
But Obatala fashioned the first Yoruba people out of clay
To live in Ife. The original human race. Praise him, praise him.
He created their beautiful broad faces and strong backs,
Their dedication to family. All praise, all praise,
He taught them to worship the orishas, the deities of nature and life
who sprang from the sixteen branches. Praise him, praise him.
Every beginning must have an end.
Now Odudawa rules the kings. Praise him, praise him.
And Obatala rules the people through the orishas. Praise them, praise them.
Their sons conquered new lands. Honor them, honor them.
Their priests compose songs of praise and glory for them all. Honor them, honor them.
And Ife sits in the center, communicating with heaven. All glory, all glory.
Prompt #9 Now now, blue brown
Now, now, blue-brown
Rest and give a low-down
on how
Red-yellow gave you
a show-down
Blue-brown behave
It is insane
Trying to be brave
When blood and pus
Oozes from innate
Skin and veins cut open
Red-yellow’s free
Sun tans
Water and air purifies
Blue-brown’s grit and girth
Snowflake, 15
I opened my jaw, hinged on expectations
I caught you like a snowflake
you melted and I laughed!
You knew I had a warm mouth.
I knew you were winter.
Why did you try to kiss me at all?
three jars
i found three jars on the side of the road
such a mystery to me
one evening quite by accident
my eyes just happened to see
one filled with tomatoes as if someone had canned
one with elbow macaroni
maybe two or three hands
and one with chocolates wrapped in brightly colored
foil
specially colored pink and blue for a boy or a girl
and since they sat so specifically
i left them there, not peculating but untouched
hoping that someone would come along who missed them
very much.
Prompt for Hour Sixteen
Write a persona poem from the perspective of a well known fictional character. You can choose any fictional character but here are a few names to get you thinking in the right direction: Dracula, King Arthur, Red Riding Hood, Katniss Everdeen, etc. . .
The Odious Rooster
In the first rays of day,
the rooster stirs, restless.
He grumbles a bit about
the slow rise of the sun
before he begins to crow.
The rooster is angry all day
because he never calls
as loudly as he wishes, and
he knows the answers to nothing,
except where the best bits of grubs
are kept, and which is the finest
of the hens, and why.
But at night, late, the rooster begins
to dream he is Gullinkambi,
the golden-combed rooster the height
of a horse who roams the Old Norse mountains.
The rooster has dreamt of the unceasing
crescendo of Gullinkambi’s roar
ringing in the final days of the earth.
He knows Gullinkambi would tell
whatever you want to know,
and a lot more. He knows which wolf
swallowed Odin, and who stole
what horse and when.
When morning comes again,
the rooster mutter and moans
as the day brightens. Though he
hones his spurs, and learned
a stompy dance, his stature
is in his dreams. When he steps
into the sun, he will crow every day
as loud as he can, forever disappointed.
Prayer for Persephone
Come sit in the misty glen, Kore, and recount the time
Demeter held her torch, Hecate by her side, and cried,
Searching for you mightily to find Hades had done it,
Abducted you, my sweet, and fed you pomegranate.
Married you he did, while your mother held back spring
And rainbow’d fields and gardens’ golden Dahlia dying
Unlike the queen of the dead, who swallows down earth
Each time you retreat from sun, a grave mother’s dearth.
For Father Zeus could strike no bargain on your behalf,
In seeds, succulent and raw, lies like the Golden Calf
Blood chained you to desire, an ever fading blossom
Half in hell, half in heaven, a grain goddess’ seasons.
But bury the bones now in bottom sight flesh as risen,
Unshutter their mortal blinds through care and wisdom
To them you owe humanity in a silver sceptered palm.
Give them true insightful eyes as to the poor give alms.
For only the darkest night can steer their walks in light
Their sins burned smoked the day he raped your mind
Your body long ago lost to wild lavender and plumeria
For you, fragrant as frangipani, we two sing hallelujah
Ask Again
Listen, breathe, taste rosehips,
blackberries, submerge yourself in cold
water, run until you drop: sweat,
pant, then just lie there looking at the sky.
Can you see the river splashing before
your eyes? Listen and you will hear
everyone talking at once. Do you know
what He meant when He called you?
Paanchali
Born of fires
Child of earthen wombs.
The much married
Virgin.
She married five men.
Yet she stood alone.
Blood for her tresses.
Passion her throne.
She still fends for herself.
Beseeching only the divine.
The lipstick under her burkha
She still claims her rights
I am mine.
Paanchali
The five manned woman
She is a goddess
Of fires and earthen wombs.