Monster in My Head, #Chant Poetry

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

There’s a little monster in my head,

He’s a one-man percussion band,

beating his bongos and grinning —

maliciously.

There’s a little monster in my head,

who doesn’t like to go to bed.

When it’s time to sleep,

the little monster in my head

plays bongos and castanets and

vuvuzelas, jumping up and down inside my

cranium — that little monster in my head.

There’s a little monster in my head,

with a trampoline and a mallet

and — perhaps — a chisel,

and he’s doing unwelcomed and

random refurbishments —

that little monster in my head.

There’s a little monster in my head,

and he likes to play with the lights,

strobe lights and

disco lights

to go with the beat of the bongos,

to go with the beat of his mallet —

that little monster in my head.

There’s a little monster in my head,

doing the conga with his monster friends,

doing gymnastics with dangerous

objects — far worse than running

with scissors — that little monster in my head.

There’s a little monster in my head,

and I have no love for him.

I’d really like to evict him

and make him vacate —

that little monster in my head.

There’s a little monster in my head,

but I can not make him go —

that nasty wasty monster in my head.

There’s a little monster in my head,

and you might know his name.

Do you want to know it?

That little monster in my head?

His name is …

Migraine.

© Susan Joy Clark 2021

This was written — a little late again — for dVerse’s chant poetry challenge. I started out with a completely different poetry idea, but the migraine continues (a little bit reduced by medicine maybe) and has been quite distracting. So, I decided to write about it. There was once a commercial for some sort of migraine medication that presented the “migraine” like a cartoonized monster. In an abstract way, it kind of made sense to me (not scientifically,) but in the sense of how it feels. It’s too bad I didn’t make this coincide with Migraine Awareness Month which was in June.

Orchids, #dVerse Poetics, #double etheree

Photo I took at New York Botanical Gardens in 2009

an

orchid

intrigues me,

with its beauty

and its simple grace,

varied varieties,

speckled or veined with color,

rare types, popping color contrasts,

ruffled or smooth, they’re shapeshifting things,

I begin to understand Nero Wolfe

and his fascination with orchids

or the hold they have with smugglers.

they are mimics in disguise,

as monkeys or dancers,

ducks, egrets or bees.

under greenhouse

glass they thrive,

beauty

blooms.

© Susan Joy Clark 2021

This was written a little late for the dVerse Poetics challenge, in which we were challenged to write a poem with a gardening theme. I was not too inspired yesterday, suffering from a post Covid shot migraine. I decided to write about orchids which I have grown to love, beginning with some visits to public gardens such as the New York Botanical Gardens. This is a double etheree, with the following syllable count pattern, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.

A Tangle of Verdure, #Tanka Tuesday, #Butterfly Cinquain

Photo by Ashley Knedler on Unsplash

my roof

is a tangle

of assorted verdure,

twisting branches woven, forming

an arch,

like the nave of a cathedral.

bright leaves and Spanish moss

gracefully sway

above.

© Susan Joy Clark 2021

This was written for Colleen Chesebro’s Tanka Tuesday challenge. She asked us to write a syllabic poem with synonyms for “green” and “morass.” I chose to write a butterfly cinquain. The Poets Collective defines a butterfly cinquain this way: “An  unrhymed 9 line poem. syllabic, 2-4-6-8-2-8-6-4-2 syllables per line.”

I’m feeling super lousy today after my second Covid shot. I’m glad my migraine brain could still come up with poetry, though I decided I didn’t want to bother with rhyme today. 😛 Thinking about the chosen words and synonyms, I thought about Spanish moss and remembered hiking under trees like this while visiting Virginia. Unfortunately, my poor dad was a feast for chiggers that day, but the trees were beautiful.

Jukebox Jive, #Monday Quadrille

Photo by Guilian Fremaux on Unsplash

Oldies were new on the jukebox,

In the decade of the doo-wops.

Couples would jitterbug and jive,

Terpsichorean footwork’s drive.

Couples rocking around the clock

Keeping rhythm with the jukebox.

Rockin’ robin both night and day,

And rock and roll is here to stay.

© Susan Joy Clark 2021

This was written for dVerse’s Monday quadrille challenge, with the requirement of using the word “juke.” A quadrille is a poem having just 44 words. “Terpsichorean” is a great word, but it was also thrown in there in desperation to get exactly 44 words to fit my form. 😛

Two Crocodile Limericks, #Laugh Along a Limerick

Image by Dmitry Abramov from Pixabay

I once saw a big crocodile

Who had a ridiculous smile.

It was full of teeth

And mystery meat,

Odd trash and a metal nail file.

© Susan Joy Clark 2021

This one was written for Esther Chilton’s Laugh Along a Limerick challenge, with the requirement that it include the word “smile.” It is slightly gross perhaps, but, hopefully, in a playful way. I thought of the second limerick first, but after dreaming up rhymes with “crocodile” and “dial,” I forgot my objective was to include the word “smile.”

Image by my best in collections – see and press 👍🔖 from Pixabay

There once lived a big crocodile

With legs that were too short to dial

“Take out” on the phone.

He left phones alone

And made “fast food” of all in the Nile.

© Susan Joy Clark 2021