Welcome to the October Open Write!
Here’s our first author bio / weather report mash-up! Did anyone ask for this? Nope. Was this something we needed? Nope. And yet, here we are!
Hi, I’m Scott from Michigan, and it’s -288.4°F (that’s -178°C) on Saturn. (And here’s another thing you didn’t ask for – to make the degree symbol in Google Docs, you need to use the following keyboard shortcut: Alt + 0176.)
Inspiration
Like the bio above, there are things that we “experience” in real life that are unexpected – and, frankly, perhaps, unneeded/unwanted – and that is what I’d like us to “work with” today. I’d like us to write an ode (or anti-ode) to these “weird” things. This idea may have been “kicking around” my brain ever since I heard the Steve Martin joke on his Let’s Get Small album about how much money he gets for being a standup comedian, and what he, ultimately, spends his money on. He tells the audience, “I got a fur sink…an electric dog polisher, gasoline-powered turtleneck sweater, and, of course, I bought some dumb stuff, too.”
Process
Write an ode to the gas station / travel center / sushi place / hair salon just down the street. Or maybe you’d like to pay tribute to your favorite go-to sandwich: peanut butter and pickles. And, look, I’m not casting aspersions – I’m not yucking your yum, here – if you really like your secret-reveal Nicholas Cage throw pillow or your Dill Pickle Lip Balm or your In-Car Sauce Holder Dip Clip all the power to you! (I cannot confirm nor deny the fact that my wife may, indeed, have purchased a Baguette shaped pillow, so, hey, you do you.) Those last items – including the Baguette pillow – are from the Good Housekeeping’s article “40 Weirdest Things on Amazon That People Actually Love to Buy.” You could also find inspiration from the article in Reader’s Digest, “The 21 Weirdest, Most Hilarious Things You Can Buy on Amazon.”
So, pick “a thing” and give it its due praise (or, as the case may be, it’s just condemnation, I mean, do we really need Bacon Strip Bandages?).
In terms of writing an Ode, you can follow the guidelines from any of the following links to find wonderful prompts and poems from our very own community: Mo Daley’s and Tracie McCormick’s Instagram Odes; Brian Glaser’s Odes; Denise Krebs’s Ode to a Childhood Love; the Haiku-Odes of Madison Burnett, Sarah Sanders, and Brittany Rubin; or Jordan Stamper’s Ode to the Unworthy. And here’s an anti-ode that I just found at Poetry Foundation by Dean Young, “Sean Penn Anti-Ode.”
Ultimately, of course, your poem does not need to be “an ode”; it can be whatever you need to write and explore/express today. There are no wrong answers here. (Except for The Mullet Headband, that will always be a wrong answer.)
Scott’s Poem
When we opened
the box, we both
laughed. Why on
earth would
anyone need
LED lights on
a pepper shaker?
It reminded us
of our college date
at The Melting Pot
the fondue restaurant
where we joked
that they must have
forgot to pay the electric
bill because the “ambiance”
was so dark; we should have
received miners’ helmets
from the maitre d’ before
stumbling to our table.
Trying to navigate
a sharp utensil
topped with melting
cheese to my mouth
in near darkness
was not ideal.
And now,
oh my god,
because my brain
works this way,
I know that when
we have a power
outage and the
lights go out,
I won’t remember
where the numerous
flashlights and lanterns
are strategically positioned
throughout our house,
but I will remember
the PepperMaster 2,000
and I’ll use that to light my way
which, of course,
means it’ll also leave
a pungent condiment
trail for Heather
to find me.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human, and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe. For suggestions on how to comment with care. See this graphic.
Thanks, Scott, for a great prompt, and for hosting. Sorry I am a little late to the game!!
To Biggby Coffee
They say that they
love their coffee,
but they love the people
behind their coffee more.
Whatever it is that these baristas
put in these beverages,
tastes like heaven.
My tastebuds have never loved something more.
Fresh in the morning,
the hot steam surrounding my face.
Early in the afternoon,
the caramel syrup sitting in the bottom of my iced drink
just waiting to be stirred.
Late at night,
when I am procrastinating an assignment.
I can always count on Biggby
to be a pick me up.
Regardless of the time or place.
Hello Scott,
Thanks for the fun prompt. I love your Melting Pot poem, It brought back many memories! Sorry I’m late to the game, it’s HOCO week, so time has been hard to find. Your prompt inspired a poem about my recent experiences with new Cup Noodles (didn’t there used to be an “O'” in the name?). Anyway, I have to preface this poem by saying that I have indeed tried all three flavors. Breakfast was actually pretty good.
Ode to Nissin Cup Noodles 2024
*Inspired by a recent visit to Walmart
Overheard at the Nissin company product development meeting last year:
Good Morning, Team!
As you all know, 2024 is about taking risks!
Our goal is to give our customers what they want,
And that is what we intend to do, so let’s get started.
Phipps, as you are leading the division on new product development,
Kick things off for us!
Right, Sir. Thank you. So, the first new Cup Noodles flavor we have developed is Campfire S’mores.
(faint sound of several stifled gags)
Um, thank you. Wow. That sounds, um, like, uh, something!
Simpson, what has your team been working on?
Thank you, Sir! We are very excited to introduce our contribution to this year’s line-up:
Everything Bagel with Cream Cheese!
(faint sounds of gaging and an audible, but muted “Ew, gross!”)
Wow! You folks have been busy over in R & D. So, um, we have one more chance, I mean, one more presentation from Smith’s team. Smith, you’re up.
(Smith, looks surprised, but jerks to attention. He begins to shuffle a pile of disorganized papers.)
Oh, of course, Sir. Of course. We’ve, um, we’ve been working on bringing together, um, the breakfast experience AND lunch, so, um, here it is: Breakfast Cup Noodles!
(actual sounds of vomiting in tiny, office-sized trash cans)
It is artificially flavored with maple syrup, pancakes, sausage, and egg! It’s very exciting!
Wow, um, okay (hastily wiping his mouth and chin, then sipping from his water glass). This has been, um, a very productive product development meeting. Yes, um, we are doomed, um, I mean, this is going to be a strong year for Nissin! Boy oh boy, these bold new flavors are sure to, uh, sure to, um, wow…I’m just so (retches on the secretary to his left).
LOL, Shaun! Though I haven’t tried all three, I have, indeed, tried the Breakfast Cup Noodles, too, and, incidentally, my reaction — unlike your real life experience — was very similar to the vivid details depicted in your poem, lol. Not great. (And yet, I am still intrigued about the Campfire S’mores flavor.) I love this imagined exchange at Nissin’s R & D meeting. This was a lot of fun!
Cotton Candy Bacon on a Stick
Everyone loves bacon especially when candied;
but never a foot-long slice of meat-challenged fatback
covered in pink cotton candy.
The cotton candy did not disappoint.
#StateFairofTexasChronicles
Donnetta, lol, I’m torn. Would I like this? I would definitely try it! And I love the hashtag at the end. State Fairs have the most … interesting…delicacies, lol.
Scott, Thanks for hosting. I enjoy the narrative of your poem and imagining your wife following a pepper trail to find you. Well, I did not write an ode, but my subject is definitely questionable.
Dad’s Thrill, a Haibun
Unexpected guests arrive. Dad gleefully grabs his favorite album and plays “You’ve Got to Have Boobs.” Awkwardly, we gauge our visitors’ reactions. I grin at the line “Even a blind man will find them while I surreptitiously glance at my flat chest.
a leech’s shameless
hands grope
finding nothing
Barb Edler
19 October 2024
Barb, your haibun poem has a questionable subject about questionable people indeed. I hope those “shameless hands” get slapped hard, so they forget how to “grope.” I love your word choices here–gleefully, gauge, surreptitiously, leech–drawing me into the poem. Thank you!
Yeesh. This one gets a visceral response from me! It makes me curious as to the time frame, reading “his favorite album” and it being a ‘dad’ character. It reminds me of being a kid and my parents having friends over for parties Though without the ‘creep’ factor of a “leech.” That’s a great moniker.
Barb, I’m with the others, you have successfully articulated a “yikes” moment! The words “Thrill,” “gleefully,” and “favorite” speak volumes! Thanks for crafting and sharing this!
Posting late tonight because of the big Ilinois win. Also, I love this product. Contact me for details!
Jeepers Peepers
By Mo Daley 10/19/24
“Hey, those glasses-cleaner things
I got you for Christmas? Did they work?”
I never suspected those words would lead to
my unpaid career as a Peeps representative.
You don’t even need to press 1 to talk to me.
I just sit on a train, a plain, or in a hotel lobby
and start Peeping, all stealth like.
Near and farsighted people alike flock to me
as I daintily dust, then wipe my lenses.
“Ooh! What is that? Does it work?”
I just look at them through my sparkling spectacles
and say, “Give it a try.”
After my 5 second demo, it’s clear to see they will purchase the Peeps.
You too, can have beautiful bifocals
and help further my volunteer vocation
for the low, low price of $19.99 at Amazon.com.
Mo, I really enjoyed your poem. I’m going to google the product as a glasses wearer. it was funny yet giving actual information. I enjoyed these lines, ” I just look at them through my sparkling spectacles” and “my unpaid career as a Peeps representative.”
thanks for this.
Mo, I love the line “it’s clear to see they will purchase the Peeps.” (But I gotta be honest, it seems like a bit of IP infringement because all I could picture at first were the marshmallow treats shaped like bunnies when you “start[ed] Peeping, all stealth like” and I was thinking, that’s not gonna clean your glasses at all!)
Mo, I don’t use readers anymore, but still would buy Peeps glass cleaners after reading your poem. Who doesn’t want “sparkling spectacles”? 🙂
Mo, such an interesting tale about Peeps. I’m fascinated by this “unpaid career” and the people who witness your demonstration. Love that low price, too!
Ode to digits
My grandfather had nine.
His ring finger was only a knuckle.
He’d reached into the tractor’s maw
to extract a gnarled chain
then emerged with ten fingers minus one.
My right big toe is a tender digit.
It is the one my father sutured
in the ER–four stitches–
when I’d sliced it on a windshield wiper
while washing the station wagon.
Grandpa wiggled his finger
that wasn’t there.
My father cupped my heel
against his palm.
This is my ode to digits.
Allison, your matter-of-fact presentation hides the emotions that these situations must have evoked. The image of your father cupping your heel against his palm is so striking!
I’m with Mo, Allison, your tone belies the emotions under the surface of your “Ode to digits”! “He’d reached into the tractor’s maw / to extract a gnarled chain / then emerged with ten fingers minus one.” The simple subtraction — as if you were just recounting a math problem — rests in stark contrast to what actually happened. Is this a way to combat sentimentality in your poem? I also love that you use the word “tender” to describe your “big toe,” the “tender digit” and not the actual act of your “father cupp[ing your] heel / against his palm,” which is, indeed, a very tender image. You allow me to supply that label to that tableau myself. Well crafted!
Allison, I love the way you lead us to final discovery! I can see that missing digit. So many farmers have them. I enjoyed the specific images that show how these digits disappeared. Very fun read!
So sweet – and bittersweet – but ends both with some humor and tenderness. I’ve long been a fan of hands – ever since a child – fascinated with the knuckles and sagging skin of the elderly – and now watching my own knuckles grow and skin sag! Family stories about hands. I’ll bet everyone has a story there. I recommend the book Creative Hands by Carol Tompkins-Parker – super lovely hand-drawn portraits of hands by an artist whose own hands are arthritic.
Scott, I love the prompt and your poem, and especially the oomph you gave to my heart in the final lines:
it’ll also leave
a pungent condiment
trail for Heather
to find me.
Back soon with an ode of my own…
Scott,
Thank you so much for your super fun prompt and poem. The Led Light pepper shakers would have been useful at the Melting Pot! I can see students really enjoying this. So many possibilities for fun!
Ode to Ill- Fitted Clothes and Mannequins
That dress, worn once and shoved into the deep recesses of my closet,
forsaken and left to mingle forlornly among the outdated and ill fitted outfits,
it, too, looked better on the mannequin.
Which leads me to question
why is the svelte, perfectly proportioned
Barbie-doll piece of plastic composite
named mannequin?
Mannequin, derived from the Flemish “manneken” meaning “little man.”
Shouldn’t we have changed the nomenclature?
Channeled into the feminine?
If you ask me, this mold of plastic needs a new name.
Womanquin, girlquin,Barbiequin, fakequin
because, let’s face it,
the clothes never look the same on real women
as they do on the XXXquin (you fill in the xxx with what works for you).
That’s why that dress,
stuffed in the back of my closet is not traveled in, and
to the unworn apparel ranks has been added in,
no thanks to the mannequin.
Tammi, great question!! Thanks for doing the legwork into the “nomenclature” of the mannequin! Why are they still called this? And why aren’t they sized for real people? And I love the notion that all the ill-fitting clothes are hanging out and “mingl[ing] forlornly” together at the back of the closet. Thank you for crafting and sharing this!
Tammi, you nailed the mannequin problem. I quite agree the clothes never fit the way they look on these “plastic molds.” Love the names you invented to replace “little man.” I enjoyed reading your poem.
BarbieQuinn has my vote!
Tammi,
Your ode gave me both laughter and a nut to chew on. Bravo!
Yes Tammi, that’s a terrific question. Its probably because mannequins don’t move, eat,or deal with children. Thanks for reminding us about all of the unworn, worn once, and clothes still having tags, that are in some of our closets. I really like these lines, “why is the svelte, perfectly proportioned
Barbie-doll piece of plastic composite
named mannequin?” and “Womanquin, girlquin,Barbiequin, fakequin
because, let’s face it,
the clothes never look the same on real women.”
Thanks for this beautiful piece of humor and reality.
Tammi, what a great question and a great point about “mannequins”. I also leave all of the clothes that don’t look as good on me as they do on the “mold of plastic” in the back of my closet!
Scott,
This was so much fun to think about and do a little research on. There sure are some hilarious items out there for sale these days! The Pepper Master 2000 cracked me up!
I recently learned about something I never knew existed from one of my writing critique partners who lives in Minnesota, far from my home in California that is 50-80 degrees year round.
Diapers for What?
If it wasn’t for my friend in Minnesota
I may have never known
That which would not cross a Californian’s mind—
The need for chicken diapers.
Purple and pink
Polka-dotted
Or Camo
When the thermometer drops
Well below freezing
My friend lets her chickens in
Like a dog
Or cat.
Which, if you think about it,
Keeps them alive
And maybe even gives her food
On a chilly
Winter morning.
Without a fowl diaper
I imagine her kitchen would get
Fairly dirty
Downright stinky
Even dangerous.
And when the temp climbs a bit
Higher
She can use a chicken leash
And get those chicken butts
In their floral print
Diapers
Out on a clucking walk.
Just her and
her diapered
(And leashed)
Feathery fowl
Floundering through
A Frosty Field
Of Snow.
Emily, this is new to me, too! I’m not a farmer, but I do live in a cold state, so it seems like I should have heard of this before. I loved the wordplay and juxtapositioning in your fifth stanza with “fowl” and “Fairly dirty / Downright stinky / Even dangerous.” I also smiled widely at “And get those chicken butts / In their floral print / Diapers / Out on a clucking walk.” Thanks for this!
This is a great poem. So much quirky, weird vibrant imagery. And I love the wordplay—the “fowl” diaper, lol!
But I especially love the sounds and the rhythms you create in this. It’s so much fun to read !
This is an incredible tribute to a totally unknown to me item! Love the fowl puns!
I feel so educated now! Chicken diapers…and alliteration to boot!
Ode to a Teacher Sweater
At an outdoor mall,
years ago, I saw
sweaters that had miniature dolls
attached to the front
to represent your occupation.
Of course, I noticed the teacher
sweater and just had to have it.
It was slightly tight and
didn’t cover (enough) my
belly from having a 3 month old
yet I didn’t care.
There was a teacher doll at a chalkboard
and 4 student dolls at desks.
The board had the obligatory
“ABC 123” on it.
I wore that sweater for about 3 years
and you could not have told me I wasn’t
“styling” and clever.
It was put aside due to the birth of
another daughter
and when I pulled it back out
months later,
I was horrified at the ugliness, the colors,
and the plastered stitched smiles on the dolls
and I seriously questioned
my sanity.
My family applauded when I donated it.
Seana, the “applaud[ing]” family made me smile wide at the end “when [you] donated it.” A bit harsh, though, lol. Maybe you could say that you were wearing it ironically. Or maybe it’s just that your tastes have changed (so so drastically) that you did, indeed, look “‘styling’ and clever” back then, but, now, you can also be truly repelled and “horrified at the ugliness, the colors, / and the plastered stitched smiles on the dolls.” Both truths can exist simultaneously! (Or maybe not, I don’t know, I’m just tryin’ to help you out here…lol). Thanks for sharing this (debatable?) fashion faux pas!
Haha! This reminds me of a winter sweater I HAD TO have as a teenager that had skier dolls all over it. (I was really into snow skiing). It was so ugly. But now, I wish I still had it just for the fun of it!
Maybe I’ll find yours at a thrift store someday!
Seana,
“There was a teacher doll at a chalkboard/and 4 student dolls at desks.” — Love the details.
You and I were thinking along the same lines today with regards to clothes that no longer work for us. I totally understand the feeling of needing to get that outfit even if it doesn’t fit quite right. I have a closet full of clothes that I’m hoping will come back in style. I think I need to make some donations too!
The teacher sweater is definitely its own unique genre and fashion mode. This one sounds terrible and wonderful. But I bet you owned it when you wore it, and that makes all the difference!
Oh, Seana! Your poem took me through such a range of complex emotions.
My heart went out to the “you” that wanted the teacher sweater. I then recognized the “egadz” moment you sent it to the donation bin!
Seana,
First of all, I can’t imagine you wearing something like that! LOL, I love that you got rid of it. I look back at some of my teacher photos and question my sanity as well. This poem is a delight. I didn’t expect the turn but it made me chuckle.
Scott,
How do you manage to make even the bio a roller coaster of fun?!? I love the prompt and your poem–sarcastic and sweet and super funny!
Ode to the Homemaker Set (available at CUTCO for a mere $1613)
Perched majestically above the clutter
and cacophony of the silverware drawer
sitting in their proper reserved places
in the wooden block at the countertop’s center
are the 10 peerless pieces of the Cutco Homemaker’s Set.
How many knives did I sell to afford you as my
demonstration set? How many kitchens were sat in?
No Matter! You are the Cadillac of Cutlery, the Bugatti of Blades.
Alas, there are bout three of the original eight table knives
remaining, dutifully standing guard at the base of the block,
their siblings doubtlessly cast into the trash
by our savage, distracted, unworthy children.
Yet they persist.
Perhaps one day I will cobble together the $421.00
to replenish your ranks,
a platoon of ready foot soldiers, Double-D® cutting blades
face front to slice through even the toughest of steaks.
Until then, we supplement the regiment with
mercenaries from the Chicago Cutlery Block,
who sit banished behind the blender in the
far corner of the Kitchen.
One day, when my coffers are flush,
no expense will be spared to restore your past glory,
A full Homemaker’s Set.
Blades fit for a samurai, but designed for a home cook,
sure to make even Jeremy Allen White boil with jealousy.
“Bugatti of Blades.”— best alliteration ever! This is great!
Dave, you had me at “the Cadillac of Cutlery, the Bugatti of Blades.” Thank you for sharing!
Just love the slice-of-life element of kitchen dreams run amok!
Dave, I love the sheer reverence you’ve crafted and honed for these “[b]lades fit for a samurai, but designed for a home cook.” “Perched majestically,” for counter space is, indeed, at a premium, these “Bugatti of Blades” are, undoubtedly, a cut above, which is why I will not be sharing this poem with my wife, lol. She so meticulously (and caringly) sharpens our kitchen knives (such as the speaker in your poem) that she, I swear, just last night, only had to approach the Char sui pork and wave the blade above it and the pork, seemingly, cut itself into strips. It was a thing of beauty…and also a bit terrifying, lol. 🙂
Haha. What a fun poem. I’d love to hear you talk about some of the kitchens you sat in selling knives. What a great story. This made me laugh aloud about your kids, “by our savage, distracted, unworthy children.” Great line!
Bugatti of Blades! That is great. Also, I laughed at “One day, when my coffers are flushed, no expense will be spared!” This poem reminds me of when I sold Princess House kitchenware for a year after my son was born to try to make extra money.
There’s a special place in heaven for direct sales persons. I hope!
Ahh, Cutco knives. We also have a set. Love these lines “Blades fit for a samurai”!
Dave, what a fun topic to write an ode to! I think my favorite line is, “Blades fit for a samurai, but designed for a home cook” it makes me feel a little better about my lack of skills in the kitchen!
Scott,
Thanks for hosting. I’m glad to have something funny to write about today.
Tradition
Oh most coveted white elephant gift
stolen more than a large collection of tiny bottles of booze
more than the ugliest of Christmas sweaters with the obscene pun
Are you so beloved
because of your comfy cotton and relaxed fit?
because your printing is student designed?
because you proudly displays not just one drawing of our school mascot, the Stars,
but an entire constellation?
because the occasion of your debut, our eighth graders college tri to Baylor and North Texas is so strongly linked to our school mission to support our first-gen girls to and through college?
Or is it because it’s another chance to tell the story to our new teachers
and roast the team leads and admin who approved a class spirit t-shirt in which the constellation forms the shape of a penis?
If I had water in my mouth, the last line would have made me spit it out!! This is so very, very good. The build up and the finale. Impressive!!!
That last stanza is GOLD!
DYING… on that last line!
Understandably the most coveted White Elephant gift!
Sharon, LOL, that last line! So funny, and, yeah, that’ll remain the “most coveted white elephant gift” for a long long time. (I can’t stop smiling and imagining just when they found out what they’d done — I mean, the kids knew immediately — but when did the admin team realize? It could have been once a number of t-shirts had been printed, and somebody was, like, uh, does that….I mean, tilt your head to the side, and squint a bit, is that what I think it is…? ohmygod, how many of these did we print….?)
Sharon,
Your poem had me in stitches! So funny and what a story to tell!
That’s incredible. Well paced tribute!
Sharon,
The “most coveted white elephant gift” was a great starting line, I immediately thought about the most random swim cap that has been in my family’s white elephant event for years. The build up to the final line was great!
Hi Scott,
You’ve given us fun inspiration for our first day of Open Write! I’m a little under the weather, so I will be responding off and on. For those who don’t know me well, I used emojis to share my issue. I hope they come through as formatted.
Haiku Ode to Teachers’ Christmas Gifts
The last day of school
3-week Winter Break begins
I carry gift bags
I carry boxes
Wrapped by parents and students
Filled with all their love
I wait for Christmas
To open all my presents
That’s the kid in me
Let’s see what’s inside
Envelopes holding gift cards
Target and Starbucks
I pull wrapping off
Ferrero Rocher’s gold blobs🤮
I only eat See’s
Last, I open bags
Uhhh, a Santa coffee mug
And a snow globe too🥴
I open more bags
Hot chocolate and marshmallows😶
They don’t know me well
I can’t re-gift these
I re-purpose, recycle
And give gratitude
©Stacey L. Joy, 10/19/24
Stacey, Perfect emoji usage! I, too, have gotten the holiday gift that makes me say–“huh.” But, it is the thought the counts (and I do really like those Ferrero Rocher’s).
I need to send all 5 boxes of Ferrero Rocher’s to you! LOL!
Stacey,
You’ve definitely captured the holiday season and teacher gifts well. We’ve certainly all gotten gifts from students that make us scratch our heads, but you have captured the most important part of the occassion “give gratitude”.
Stacey, your emoji game is on point! Or on fleek! I’m not actually sure what the kids say these days. I can’t keep up, lol. And these gifts, lol, though thoughtful (?) somehow miss the mark: “Uhhh,” what led you to believe, in all the time we’ve shared together, that I would want/need/cherish “a Santa coffee mug” or “snow globe”? So true and so funny! (And I hope you start feeling better soon!)
Oh Stacey, I see we have some of the same traditions when it comes to Christmas gifts from students. I, too, dislike Ferrero Rocher (hazelnut) 😔 and enjoy donating items in the early new year. I totally enjoyed your Haiku. I’m sure you’re speaking for most teachers everywhere.
Scott, I’m so glad that date worked out and you continue to laugh at the good weirdness in life. Love that image of molten cheese in the pitch dark!! Your link led me to a memory of a phone call with a friend who is on her way to visit as we speak! Thanks for the prompt and bringing lightness today!!
Tortilla Blanket
“I’m sorry that we had to get married
a continent away
and with just family”
she said, “but I thought of you
when I changed into my wedding gown
on the side of the road
outside the National Park
as my nieces held
a tortilla blanket up to keep me
from giving passersby a show.
Seems like you were there in spirit.”
“And that’s why we’re friends,”
I laughed. “Glad I could be there
in your weirdest moments.”
Emily,
your poem made me smile. Sounds like a great friendship.
Emily, I have a dear friend from college with whom I share storied memories. This sounds like yours — and I delight in whatever it was/is about the two of you that she would think of you while she dons her wedding dress on the side of a road! True friendship!
Love this. Great picture, sounds like someone I’d like to know!!!
I love the serendipity of this prompt, the memory, the friendship, and the visit, Emily! Thank you for crafting this moment and sharing it with us today! I hope you share it with your friend, too!
So funny that you had a story about a tortilla blanket. I love this memory poem and the story it tells, Emily.
Emily,
Love the picture you paint. The feel the strength of your friendship in these lines “Seems like you were there in spirit. And that’s why we’re friends.”
Hi Scott, thanks for the prompt and your poem. It makes us wonder about lots of experiences. Here’s mine spawned by the ducks and geese that gather on the pond outback—usually geese on one side and ducks on the other. But that’s another poem about DIJE. 🙂 Birds Out Back.jpg (For some reason, the photo did not show when I clicked the picture icon, so here’s the link.)
Ode to Feathers
It has to do with the weather
Whether the ducks and geese will get there.
Do they have feathers to spare?
Watching them prep on the pond out back
I’m sure it’s not enough feathers they lack
It’s too cold up north here in winter
But they’ll need feathers on their back and not in a sack.
I have feathers in a sack.
They help support my back
When I’m too pooped to finish a task.
What more can one ask?
Did a bird have to die
Just so I can lie in comfort?
Did a bird not make it back
So I could lie on my back.
Oh, dear Lord, I hope it was feathers
From fluttering away from our weather
Or that when the feathers fell, they had sweaters!
Whatever the reason, in this odd season
I’m glad we all now have enough feathers.
This echoes thoughts I have also had. And then I discard the thought, because I do want to be warm!!
Anne,
I love the rthythm and rhyme of your poem and this great question:”Did a bird not make it back/So I could lie on my back.”
Anna, thank you for the link to the picture! That’s quite a flock or gaggle you’ve got in the backyard. And I love the reflection of your verse: “Did a bird have to die / Just so I can lie in comfort? / Did a bird not make it back / So I could lie on my back.” Such important questions!
Knacks
Got a plastic pork chop,
On a styrofoam plate,
Parachute pants,
Over Velcro skates.
Plated gold chains,
With a nose ring,
Ceramic birds,
buttons make dem sing.
Got a fake pumpkin,
And a fake tooth,
Take my shower
In a telephone booth.
Lay in the sun,
With dark shades,
Two pounds of block,
To stop da rays.
Water my grass,
So I can cut,
Put on spanx,
To Hold in my gut.
Workout
With a handshake,
Microwave taters,
So Dey look baked.
Tell da kids
get off the cell,
Through TikTok, Snapchat,
Or Emails.
Sit down,
For family meals,
Buckle- up for
Drive- thru deals.
Take vitamins
From the jar,
Look at
Painted fruit,
On the bar.
Eight veggies
In a can,
Germ-x
Dirt from a hand.
Look at,
Animals in da zoo.
Buy a stuffed one,
The Purple kangaroo.
Drive the pavement,
Pay a toll,
Protein powder,
Makes you swole.
Paint the gray,
Black,
Magnet brace
For my back.
Eyeliner
and lip gloss,
With
Scented dental floss.
Bust slack,
Dress with style,
Fast food,
Will be awhile.
All this
For freedom,
Knick knacks,
We need um’!
– Boxer
Yep, we do, I for nothing more than fond memories and fodder for our poems. 🙂
Boxer, as I read this it was like I had a checklist (and kept checking these things off) that I owned or recognized throughout my life, so, uh, thanks for this trip down memory lane, lol. Wow, we — see how I’m including you in this, too? — we really had some weird stuff, didn’t we? Is “Workout / With a handshake” a reference to The Shake Weight? Asking for a friend because I never would have willingly purchased such a thing in my youth….
Yes on the shake weight 🤣- and I still wear a magnet back brace – could be placebo 😀😀😀
I smiled numerous times through this poem, both in response to the images – with which I could relate! – and the rhythm, like a beatbox running beneath it all. It makes me see this as all the ‘knacks’ just one person might have in their day – among how many others? X times how many people in this society? A new Dollar General Store is opening in our neighborhood, and so many neighbors are excited about it. Gack! (Okay, of course I’ll go there! But really, how many ‘knacks’ do we need?!)
Scott, thank you for your fabulous introduction and poem! I’ll never lack the degree sign in Google Docs again. Thank goodness.
3:03
My eyes are bleary
Feet tromp
through a field of beige and white
only
this empty parking lot
The violent fog of sleep clings to me
as I lean my entire body into the door
and stumble into that Wonderland
QuikTrip
Haven of travelers
Waypoint for the weary
A harbor of caffeine
For those sorry sailors
taking to those dark roads again
We’re making it home tonight.
Nashville to Tulsa.
Through the power of
a quick bathroom break
the amber bathroom lighting
Cool Ranch Doritos (Family Size), Monster Energy Peachy Keen, Hostess donettes Frosted Mini Donuts
and my musical theater guilty pleasure playlist
My treasure spills onto the counter, where
the woman (Ginger, according to her name tag) scans away
free of judgment
She finishes and looks up
Eyes meeting mine
Loose strands of hair escaping her bun.
“You all have a safe night,” she intones
and that fog lifts just a little
She slides me my bounty
I crack that sweet, sweet Monster Energy Peachy Keen drink
That poison turned antidote for the long road ahead
I wipe the corner of my mouth with my sleeve
and grin
and I turn on “Defying Gravity”
As that tired beam shines out into the darkness again
3:12
I enjoy that
Ha, I think I need some Monster myself today!! I enjoyed how you talk about the various ways you get energy for a safe ride home- the treats, the caffeine, and the friendly moment. You filled this with clear images and hopeful energy. Safe travels to you!
this embodies all of those looong drives. I’m glad you had an enjoyable pit stop!
Wow, so glad you made it home safely! It’s funny how all that bounty helps us at such a time. I love “poison turned antidote” — so powerful.
Yes! I was right there with you for your road trip choices! And I love the play with “Defying Gravity” not only as the song from Wicked — your “musical theater guilty pleasure playlist” — but also what your eyelids are trying to do at 3:12 in the morning! Thanks for this fun ride!
Scott, I had a lot of fun looking at some of the crazy stuff you can buy on Amazon. Oh, my…It reminded me of an early version of questionable products. Your PepperMaster 2000 was a perfect item for your ode. I loved the details about the dark Melting Pot date.
Ode to the Dreams
Sea Monkeys
Snapping Gum Pack
X-Ray Specs
Atomic Joy Buzzer
Whoopie Cushion
Before Amazon, these
were available to kids,
kids who read comic books
and then, when they got
to the inside cover,
dreamt of the joy
of sea monkeys,
living and smiling
in our fishbowls or
of magic tricks to awe
our siblings.
Just 50 cents
to a dollar and you
could get these
(usually barely 1-2 star
ratings in today’s economy)
treasures sent right
to your door.
Denise, my husband I talk about the hope and let down of sea monkeys probably four times a year. They were so cool in theory- I love your line as you imagine them playing in the fishbowl! There was something more fun about the word of mouth ratings, but also the hope… thanks for this delight!
Ah, Denise! I was that kid! I would find a pen and circle some of those very items and wonder if I could ever save enough to buy something all by myself!
Denise,
Those were the days! The dreams of what could be and the anticipatory wait for the product that my or may not arrive. I love that list that begins the poem!
YES, Denise! I remember those comic book ads for Sea Monkeys!! After your poem, I went on a quick trip down memory lane (via googling “Sea Monkey ads”) and lo and behold, there they were. The smiling faces of the family of Sea Monkeys (the not at all actual brine shrimp). “Enter the wonderful world of amazing live Sea-Monkeys. Own a bowlfull of happiness — instant pets. So eager to please, they can even be trained” I can’t believe I believed this! A child’s imagination truly is a thing of wonder, lol! Thanks for this blast from the past!
Yes! The sea monkey wish list! a I never got to have them…
Denise, I love the way you create the past with the line “Before Amazon” and the mention of comic books. I do not remember an Atomic Joy Buzzer, but I would love to have one! Delightful poem!
Denise, thank you for sending me back to pre-Amazon times! We are so spoiled by easy access to shopping with a click. I wish today’s kids, too, would’ve
“dreamt of the joy
of sea monkeys,
living and smiling
in our fishbowls or
of magic tricks”
These are heartwarming lines!
Scott–I so appreciate your ode to the flashlight/pepper shaker. I am now going right to Temu to order one–I’m sure they will have them!!
Every year, our sixth grade team took a field trip to the corn maze. I. hate. corn. mazes.
The Corn Maze Awaiteth
Blast thee, oh wretched Corn Maze!
Thou wast the bane of my scholarly existence
In yearly course, we would embark on the trek.
We would climb on to the yellow transport
One hundred scholars and their elder guides,
clambering out and into the sheafs of corn,
arranged so as to confuse and befuddle.
For many, it was a lark, a bit of fun.
For me, it was a torture, a test of will.
For I, lacking in sense of right or left
(much less east or west, north or south),
was defeated upon alighting into the labyrinth.
My newlings knew better than to join in this quest under my leadership,
for they had been warned by those defeated in prior campaigns
to avoid supporting me against the tousle-topped foe,
that snarl of pathways leading nowhere.
They were placed with me against their better judgment.
(those poor young sods).
But here we were, stepping into the verdant maw,
only to become irretrievably confused at the outset.
I shoulder the blame,
for even if my minions had some innate sense of direction,
my mere presence was sufficient to obliterate it.
I live an aimless life, one without fix or locus.
My final quest,
my last opportunity for success in the maze of maize,
was my greatest debacle.
The other scholars and their eminent elders
were ensconced on their green vinyl seats
in the yellow conveyance, awaiting our ragtag group of lost scholars.
Across the tasseled tops resounded a call–
“Lady Sands, we must take our leave! Where art thou?”
We surrendered to desperation and thrust our way
through the walls of corn in the direction of that blessed, cursed voice.
Dishonored, we slowly climbed the steps
to join the gloating conquerors of the labyrinth.
And so I stand, defeated again,
Curse thee, oh corn maze!
GJSands
10/19/24
Gayle, this had me laughing at your heightened language in your reverse ode to the corn maze! Sorry you were defeated, but your students will never forget that bushwhacking (cornwhacking?) experience!! I love the verdant maw and the tousle topped foe. Thanks for the laugh, so brilliantly delivered!!
Gayle,
The diction is hysterical!
has to be my favorite line. As someone who lives with a, um, direction-challenged partner, I understand the horror of the maze.
Gayle, this is hilarious! I love “I live an aimless life, one without fix or locus.” and the “maze of maize” The archaic tone cracked me up, especially, “Lady Sands, we must take leave! Where art thou?” So fun and funny, but I could also appreciate your trauma having to go there year after year!
LOL, Gayle! (I’m not laughing at you, mind you, just in your general direction, across the thin filament of this world wide web, as it were; I’m also commiserating with you as well. I am terrible “at directions.” People give me directions, and I’m, like, does it matter that I honestly believe whatever direction I’m currently facing is North. I mean, that just makes sense, doesn’t it? Why wouldn’t it make sense that I’m always facing North….um, because that’s not how any of this works.). I loved the archaic Renaissance Festival flavor of your diction. This was a lot of fun to read and envision. Huzzah!
Scott – Your ode made my morning! Sounds like a great “White Elephant” gift that will live in infamy. Thanks so much for the smiles.
pennywise
kicked to a curb
languishing in a parking lot
entombed in the silky folds of a forgotten purse
my lucky days long past
my two cents gone with google
I can’t even buy a thought
I should have seen it coming
lulled into believing my own value
adored in a jar on a shelf
piggy-bank dreams
only to be rolled and returned
for those who preferred paper
alas! what remains for me?
who counts change at the checkout line?
I am an inappropriate gift to toddlers
for fear they may swallow me
I am a mecca to dust bunnies
on pilgrimage, indignant
squished in seat cushions
with stale cracker crumbs
relegated to perform punitive puppy training
inside an empty soda can –jangling
instead of jingling
in a pocket full of sister coins
yet – you still can’t bring yourself
to throw me away
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
October 19, 2024
Patricia- I love this ode? Elegy? For the penny! I loved this playing with idioms here: my lucky days long past
my two cents gone with google
I can’t even buy a thought
poignant and true!!
Patricia,
This is so playful and fun. Love the hihs and lows of your descriptions.
From
to
Delightfully clever.
Took me a moment. I see you’ve personified the coin, and it’s Penny writing an elegy of thanks to you. That’s clever!
Patricia, what a perfect ode to the lowly penny. Beautiful. So many memories, cliches, and history of pennies rising up in your sweet poem.
Patricia, I love the wordplay throughout! So clever! It was a joy to read. “I am an inappropriate gift to toddlers / for fear they may swallow me.” This line made me laugh out loud. Are there people giving toddlers pennies? This seems like such an odd “gift.” And I loved the lines “my lucky days long past / my two cents gone with google / I can’t even buy a thought.” And I love loved the title leading into your first line: “pennywise / kicked to a curb” brought to mind the iconic image of Stephen King’s Pennywise and the storm drain!
Thank you for hosting today, Scott! I like the prompt and the opportunity to think about some unexpected, weird things. Love your poem about the pepper shaker, and especially the ending. It does serve a purpose.
My ode is to my Lion family today. It is our homecoming game, and this is a year my university celebrates its centennial, so we are all full of cheers and pride. I am running away to meet my colleagues and friends for tailgating, but I will respond to poems throughout the day whenever I find a minute.
Ode to Tailgating: Centennial Cheers
Green and gold fill the Strawberry Stadium air,
A sea of pride under the centennial flag.
Our Roomie roars, calling us to gather,
And we answer with laughter, with hope,
Parading around the Friendship Circle,
Where the famous Live Oak,
The same age as the university,
Gathered students and alumni
For the past hundred years,
Fueling the flame of Lion hearts.
From the grills’ smoke rising,
To the clink of iced drinks,
We celebrate more than a game.
This is legacy, a journey of pride,
Where generations have cheered and learned.
Here, on this sacred ground,
We tailgate in unity,
For our Lions, bold and fierce,
Ready to face the battle once more.
Stephen F. Austin awaits—
Let them sweat Louisiana sun!
When the music of cheers fills our streets,
When our spirit rises with the setting sun,
And when the clock ticks down,
We know, with faith, fire, and will
Our Lions will rise, as they always do.
Lion Up, today, tomorrow—forever.
Leilya, thank you for sharing today. It seems that the tailgate is often more exciting and has higher attendance than some games. What excitement and community these events build!
Leilya, thank you for commemorating this fellowship and camaraderie! And I love the play with the word “pride” in your second stanza: “We celebrate more than a game. / This is legacy, a journey of pride, / Where generations have cheered and learned.” (I’m not much of a “sports ball” connoisseur — obvious, probably, since I just used the word “connoisseur” in this instance — but I hope your Lions do well today! Go, team!)
Ah, such a lovely poem for your Lions. So many great phrases, “a legacy, a journey of pride” and “we know, with faith, fire, and will Our Lions will rise” I hope you win the Homecoming game today!
I can hear your school pride throughout this poem. Your details are rich, and I feel transported to the joy of homecoming and tailgates. Your ending is powerful! Love that line and cheer if it is one.
Ode to scavenger hunts
On Christmas morning on top of the stairs
I wait to be let downstairs
Christmas morning picture taken every year
I run to the living room to claim my spot
We open our stockings one by one
Oohing and awwing to what Santa brought
My sister and I clean up the wrapping paper
As my parents make Christmas breakfast
After breakfast, I clean up the kitchen
As my sister sorts the presents under the tree
We take turns once again opening presents
Watching my parents play “winning” Christmas
Once all the gifts are open
My dad throws the wrapping paper away
As my mom folds the tissue paper to be reused
My sister and I wait patiently for what we know is coming
All of a sudden I get a text
The scavenger hunt has begun
My sister and I race around the house looking for clues
Once we find all of them we use them to solve the final clue
The big gifts have been found!
Mara, I love this tradition, from the “Christmas morning picture” to the “open[ing]” of your “stockings” to the “clean[ing] up [of] the wrapping paper” to “[w]atching [your] parents play ‘winning’ Christmas” to the “text[ing] / [of] [t]he scavenger hunt”! Thank you for crafting this ode of such a warm and lovely scene for us!
I can feel the festivity in the air as if I were there in the midst, waiting for the hunt to begin. How fun is this tradition – and the anticipation of it all! Your words paint the images so clearly in my mind.
Mara,
Your sweet poem makes me smile as I remember my own family’s holiday celebrations.
I like how you capture each person’s role in keeping the tradition going. Your poem conveys both the comfort of everyone playing the same part year after year and the excitement of new presents waiting to be found.
Mara, what a great tradition! Your poem brings back so many memories with my children. Thank you for sharing!
Scott, thank you for your witty words, creative prompt, and inspiring poem.
Dough-nut-ode
Those who’ve known
me since my teens
have transferred my love of
Hostess Chocolate Donettes
into my adulthood
like an extension of my being
I used to love the six-pack
of the holey chocolate gems
satisfying a sugar and carb addiction
first as a teen from the gas station
then in my twenties around 2 am after a night out
still satiating my urges when I was pregnant
I am talking about the original, OG Hostess
Chocolate Frosted Mini Donette-, no other
no I’ve never inspected the ingredients
donut be confused, this is no ode to
Little Debbie, Entenmann’s
or generic store-bought choco-donut-minis
now I cannot escape them
the recipe quality has changed over the decades
and still my family insists on purchasing them
as little gifts of endearment
as a stocking stuffer, as a joke, who knows?
I try to proclaim, “please, stop buying me Donettes”
and yet, here I am sneaking into the pantry
for a mid-afternoon snack
So perfect, Stefani! I feel like you captured my adoration for these donuts except my love is with the powdered Donettes . . . and only Hostess. How perfectly you address the FACT that they must be Hostess. No other imposters. I had four pregnancies and the only thing I ever had a craving for was these Donettes. I love how your identity is wrapped up in this gems!
We are so connected! Hostess Chocolate donettes play a starring role in my ode as well. I think it’s phenomenal for both of us to have thought of that snack with this prompt.
Stefani, these “little gifts of endearment” will be on my mind now every time I see these cute minis. Thank you for shar
Haha! This is so funny. So many great details about the eras you loved the “holey chocolate gems.” I had something slightly similar with collecting sheep when I was younger. It took a long time to shake that mantle. But, I couldn’t sneak “into the pantry / for a mid-afternoon snack” of sheep.
Stefani, I used to love the “OG Hostess / Chocolate Frosted Mini Donette,” too! And I love “the lady doth protest too much, methinks” of it all as you “proclaim, ‘please stop buying me Donettes‘ [as you] “[sneak] into the pantry / for a mid-afternoon snack.” So good! Thanks for reminding me of these chocolatey treats!
I love this prompt! I have never been attracted to Odes as a form and with this context I am having so much fun. This prompt can fuel me for days! Thank you! Loved the articles you included as well. Sweet Corn Soda? Wow….
🙂
Great. I have now realized that my life is jam-packed with weirdness – all deserving of odes! Thanks, Scott! I always love looking at those ‘items people buy’ and wondering – who the heck would?! Therein a bazillion great stories, I’m sure! (We also have all those flashlights, but now I feel like I SHOULD get that pepper grinder…)
An Ode to Romcoms I Have Watched A Thousand Times
Because after a long day
of pouring my heart and soul out to others
it feels good to get something in return
by simply pressing “Play”
The comfort of hanging out with friends
while I slice and dice for dinner
knowing all the song cues and all the lyrics
being able to recite lines by heart
before the actors do
The storylines are so familiar
they cradle me along
there are no moments of surprise
yet I choke out that sob on cue
simply because I want to
Denise,
Thanks for capturing the love of the familiar in the midst of the mundane. I watch Gilmore Girls on repeat and the comfort that show brings is pretty much inexplicable. There is a funny meme about there with two lines . . . one for a therapist and one for Gilmore Girls and there is no one at the therapist and a huge line awaits Gilmore Girls.
I love the line
for its many meanings of love and comfort and nurturing and growth and familiarity.
Denise, I too am a sucker for romcoms, same plot, yet always easy to watch and multitask along with. I’ve started to watch some of my favorites with my teen and every once in a while she catches my tears and produces a large eye roll–rude! Thank you for sharing.
Denise, this is so true! “[P]ouring [your] heart and soul out to others” — aka teaching with compassion, empathy, and passion — can be so exhausting! We need to comfort (and recharge) ourselves with the familiar stories and tropes we love. Yep, “there are no moments of surprise” but that doesn’t stop the “sob[s]” that come right “on cue”! Thank you for this!
Denise, as I read your poem, I am reminded of my own habits of having a TV (now my handy laptop) while cooking or cleaning in the kitchen. This feeling “of pouring my heart and soul out to others” is so relatable to many of us
Love that familiar storylines “cradle” you along. Such a comforting poem!
Denise, it’s great to see you here today! I love the topic of your poem today. “The storylines…they cradle me along” Perfect! I love familiar movies.
Dust
In Room 103, in the deep belly
of a school, just beyond the cafetorium
and ten steps from the Teacher’s Lounge
(not sure which teacher owned it),
there are four peculiar beings
with hands like chicken feet. The
beings drop their books on the floor
kicking them into a circle center, then
limbs cop a squat on the stained blue carpet
yoga style. From one hoodie’s kangaroo
belly, a claw pulls a package, crinkles
echo as the other three proceed similarly.
I have been staring at this quartet for some
time now. I am reminded of ancient times
when hands held books and fingers stroked
pages eager to uncover a phrase of life. I
miss who we were then, before we were
this: twitchy thumbs and taloned fingers
perpetually dusted with Taki dust or cheese
puffs. Alas, respect for archaic volumes
reign as these bibliophiles persist with story
even if their fingers no longer hold pages.
Inspiration: “If you don’t like leftover cheese dust on your fingers (even though that’s the best part), you could always try these dishwasher-safe finger guards.” I imagined our eighth graders during their book groups taking about A Long Way Down while eating chips. They held their fingers up like a chicken foot to keep from staining the page of the book.
Sarah, what a tableau! The sensory detail was gorgeous, and I especially appreciated:
“and ten steps from the Teacher’s Lounge
(not sure which teacher owned it),” (your English teachery, grammatical aside — added to your speaker’s persona for me)
This great imagery and assonance:
“limbs cop a squat on the stained blue carpet
yoga style. From one hoodie’s kangaroo
belly, a claw pulls a package,”
And I loved your “Alas” here! It was unexpected and added interesting tone to these last few lines:
“Alas, respect for archaic volumes
reign as these bibliophiles persist with story
even if their fingers no longer hold pages.”
(And it’s so true! I know kids who are not big readers, but who love mythology, story, etc. that they’ve gotten from gaming/online communities.)
Loved this!
That YA book still echoes in my mind – I can still hear the ding at each floor on that elevator, and I love that you chose a line from that book to inspire your poem today. The hoods and the chicken fingers are such rich imagery of consuming – – consuming words, consuming stories, consuming cheese-dust from fingers. It’s just a beautiful blend for all the best bibliophiles.
This is gold, Sarah! The first building I taught in had a “cafetorium” so that word pulled me in instantly!
You sure paint a picture here of what we see and what we long for. I love these lines, so vivid:
Your line breaks intrigue me and the way you pulled this poem from an ad for the inane item protecting fingers from not-cheese dust is impressive!
Sarah, there is so much to aurally love about this! (And that, I think, may be the first time I’ve ever used that phrase, lol.) Your poem is such a sensory gift from “kicking them into a circle center” to “cop a squat” to “one hoodie’s kangaroo / belly, a claw pulls a package, crinkles / echo” to “twitchy thumbs and taloned fingers.” And I love “these bibliophiles persist with story” even despite the coating of cheese dust (which, IMHO, despite the ad’s claim, is not “the best part”!
Sarah, I enjoyed reading your poem twice. The second time after reading the inspiration was even better. I fell in love with this 8th grade team with “respect for archaic volumes / reign as these bibliophiles persist with story”
Oh, Scott, how this prompt fits your personality so well . . . a perfect opportunity to work in humor! Your ode is just great . . . may we all purchase LED pepper shakers to lead us to love!
Humor is not at all my forte. I started to fight the prompt and go with a basic ode to the NYT game app, but I decided to stretch my writing legs a little. I used the Good Housekeeping link to find a product that I felt could take me in a snarkier direction. I went with the Anatomy Swimsuit, that I believe you can find pictured below.
Anatomy Lecture for the Eyes
O,
anatomy swimsuit . . .
how awe-inspiring
and educational
you are.
O,
others can
marvel at just how much
of the abdomen
is taken up by
the garden hose
that is the intestines
hugged by the colon
at how small the stomach
seems though it can safely house
five slices of pizza,
an order of nachos,
a snowcone,
and a Laffy Taffy rope
from the concession stand
at the Lorin Farr Community Pool.
How magnificent!
O,
anatomy swimsuit,
how informative you are.
Before being resuscitated
by Wendy Peffercorn,
Michael “Squints”
Palledorous
gapes in wonder
at the pair of lungs
artfully displayed
wondering why
Mr. Archer,
his sixth grade science teacher,
never explained
how they aren’t
a matching pair.
He always assumed
there was symmetry.
O walking anatomy lesson,
thank you for pairing wonderfully
with the cellophane overlay pages
from the World Book Encyclopedia
to continue to spark interest
in the human body.
Thanks to you,
pre-teen boys can gawk
at the Wendy Peffercorns
of the world
with no shame.
Come on,
it’s an open invitation!
It’s school!
O, anatomy swim suit,
next up . . .
a national mandate
making you
standard wear for
all lifeguards
at municipal pools.
Life-long learning
in all settings
is key to success!
O,
anatomy swimsuit,
how you enhance
the sunbathing experience!
Perhaps,
Speedo needs to
offer a companion piece
for equal opportunity!
~Susan Ahlbrand
19 October 2024
Susan, I’m in “stitches”!! Har! Seriously, though, too much in here to love! The Wendy Peffercorn reference cracked me up! And the Speedo comment at the end! Dying!
Susan! Lol, this was such fun and very funny, too! (The Sandlot connection — “You’re killin’ me, Smalls!” — was an unexpected delight!) I loved your snarkiness throughout! The truth of the “matching pair” misinformation to the problematic nature of legitimizing “gawk[ing]” (and body as object) to the notion that this “anatomy swimsuit” should be “standard wear for / all lifeguards” under the guise of “[l]ife-long learning” to the inequality inherent in the lack of a Speedo counterpart. (And with poems like this ode to the anatomy swimsuit, I find it very hard to believe that “humor is not at all [your] forte”!)
Susan — This is FABulous! I am dying about the encyclopedic overlays and pre-teen boys! Brava!
Susan, what a fabulously hilarious object to write an ode about, haha! I am trying to imagine how many might wear this as a Halloween costume in Vegas this year! Thank you for sharing.
I gotta say the anatomy swimsuit is perhaps a step up (?) from the skeletons I’ve been seeing attached to people’s cars this season! Your poem is pure delight – that lofty ode-ish tone about the wondrous “walking anatomy lesson” – yet – GEEZ!
P.S. The encyclopedia overlays used to captivate me. Just sayin’.
Susan, such fun! That list of a small stomach that can fit all that detailed list of food is awesome. We all could write that stanza with our own food items. I love how she is eating all the food at the community pool. And I always loved those cellophane overlays showing the body parts. Now I want to see a swimsuit with overlays to see all the organs!
Hi Scott! I love you introduction and the LED pepper shaker (AKA flashlight). That got me to thinking of all the useless, wondrous stuff my student create in Wonder Studio. I often laugh of the things they nail and glue and bring home to their mothers.
What is this?
What is this?
Is what I say often
When I’m in Wonder Studio
With my student crafters.
They come every day
At recess time to play
And create from the junk
Piled in two small rooms.
I collect garbage treasures
All year long
For my crafters to turn
Into wonders.
They glue doodads
To thingamajigs
Smiling and saying,
My mom will love this!
She will love it and hug them
And when they’re sleeping
She’ll throw that treasure
In the kitchen trash!
They know this so sometimes
They hand the glooey-gop wonder
Over to me, Keep it, they say
For the Wonder Studio.
Joanne,
Loved your ode to creativity and to creating treasure from “trash”! The juxtaposition of these lines was great, and I loved what the exclamation point did for the tone:
“She will love it and hug them
And when they’re sleeping
She’ll throw that treasure
In the kitchen trash!”
Loved that sweet last stanza.
Great poem!
Joanne, I love how this poem shows your connection with your students. As well as how excited they are to show you what they have created.
A Wonder Studio – – I love this idea, like some magical museum of memento-making. A shelf of curious eccentricities, just there for the smiles to be appreciated as art, fully alive in the moment, at least for the time being in the short time warp between art and rubbish. What a clever concept. A Wonder Studio.
Joanne, I adore this whole concept of Wonder Studio and the imaginations unleashed, not to mention the salvation of glooey-gop things to be repurposed there! I have saved a piece of heavy cardboard packing that is long with connected, squarish segments – it seems dragonish or something to me – as a potential craft for granddaughters or students. What wonder will they make of it??
Joanne, “Wonder Studio” is the best name! I love that you have one in your school. And I smiled at how the children create and want you to keep it for the Wonder Studio.
Joanne, I love that you have this outlet for imagination and creativity for your young “crafters.” This “Wonder Studio” is a great idea! (And I smiled widely at the heart and truth of “She will love it and hut them / And when they’re sleeping / She’ll throw that treasure / In the kitchen trash!” Thanks for crafting and sharing this with us!
This prompt was so wonderful for a Saturday morning and made me laugh and laugh, so thank you for that. I went in a slightly different direction with an item that used to make many students laugh and laugh, and believe me we all need more laughter right about now.
It’s something about pens
in elementary school
where they were quite discouraged from use
Back in the day before erasable pens,
that is
How, pray tell, would you erase your mistakes?
I never used a red pen to correct,
always blue or black
Red had this way of saying
ERROR, ERROR Will Robinson
in the loudest possible way
So I guess kids wanted to give me pens,
Ones they thought would make the perfect correcting tool
And of course one had to be pink
(my favorite color)
the face on the top had to have hair,
but not just any hair
At first glance it all stood straight up,
perfectly coifed,
but twist the body of the pen between two hands
and the fluorescent pink hair
went in every direction
til it looked like an Albert Einstein photo
I would twist that pen ferociously
as the kids laughed and laughed,
and not always while correcting papers mind you,
erasing all thoughts of imperfection.
Heidi, those last lines:
“as the kids laughed and laughed,
and not always while correcting papers mind you,
erasing all thoughts of imperfection.”
Loved them! And loved your poem!
This fun of pens and the moments that slice the seriousness out of the room and replace it with the joy and laughter – – yes, you are so right – – we need more of that, and your poem delivers!
Today is clearly “write about a favorite pen day”! Love the movement from thoughts on how to erase ink back in the day (solution: use a little spit on your finger and then a pencil eraser – voila!) to never using red ink (which basically screams “ERROR, ERROR, Will Robinson” – bam!) to the hysterical hair atop that pen flying….learning is supposed to be fun…don’t today’s Powers That Be remember such joy??
Heidi, this was so joyful! I love that this particular pen — with its change from “perfectly coifed” hair to “Albert Einstein” mop — brought so much laughter to your classroom. And you are absolutely right: we need more and more laughter in our lives these days! Thank you for crafting and sharing this with us!
Scott, I’m laughing because your prompt is so Scott – – so uniquely you, and also because I was visiting my daughter and her fiancé’s family has electronic salt and pepper grinders. I’d never seen one, and it fascinated me. I now know what I need for Christmas. It’s not that Apple Watch, the new 10 with the titanium band, nor the pair of Taos tennis shoes for high arch and metatarsal support, nor the stackable birthstone rings with the stones of each of my children and grandchildren for a total of ten all told, nope. It’s those grinders. But what to give in return? Let’s see……
My Mark on the World
speaking of unboxing gifts
I’m inventing the next big thing
because of all the things that
annoy me like the partially squeezed
twisted toothpaste tubes or
velcroed soap with melded slices sticking
like a bloodletting leech to a bigger bar or
handwarmer mugs that brand palms or
already-used weekly sandwich bags or
damp half-paper towels drying to be recycled or
all those other quirks like the holy
t-shirts because they’re good for tractoring
what annoys me the most is the simple
kitchen dishtowel that never
-do you hear me? never –
and I mean never, ever, ever not once
not once –
makes it back to the oven handle
where it is supposed to hang out
unless I put it there myself
it’s not really even a dishtowel, per se,
it playfully pops behinds and serves as a napkin
for powdered donuts and
wipes counter messes and
occasionally dries a dish
but it naps, crumpled in comfort on counters
on the table
on the bar
on the coffee table
and so I’m inventing one
with invisible GPS homing strings
to draw it back
to where it goes
so that I will have left
my mark in this world
right in the hearts of
kitchens all over
the world
in the smiles of wives
worldwide
I love this description and the sound of your poem. the repetition and the the alliteration – the smile of wives worldwide.
Amen, sister: Amen.
Oh, Kim. Such truth here in the towel. I am often the guilty one who throws the dish towel over my shoulder carrying it to another room to the annoyance of my partner.
And, oh, Kim, the tone of this poem is so fun. I love how Scott’s prompt and quippy phrasing may have made it way into your verse today with these series of short lines ranting toward the “smiles of wives/worldwide.”
Hugs,
Sarah
Uh, oh! Everyone in my household is an offender of the dishtowel chaos. (We never hung them there for fear of catching fire – silly, I know, but anxious minds prevail). I do, however, have annoyances equal to your dishtowel. They change seasonally, it seems. Though my perennial disfavorite is the loading of the dishwasher without ever pulling out a tray so that the front quarter would list even the most well-balanced boat. Thanks for the smile today!
CRYING, Kim — I’m 65 years old and all I want for Christmas is beautiful, clean tea towels that hang on my oven and NEVER get used! Well done!
These pet peeves, Kim – EEEEESH! I am with you all the way! Especially the soap. I never buy bar soap anymore. The mess drives me nuts. The decorative towels – WHY. DON’T. PEOPLE. GET. IT. Infuriating. Especially if the towels are a white or light-colored – so hard to get stains out, as they typically can’t be bleached, depending on the decoration. I really will thank you to invent that GPS homing string so the thing stays where it should in the first place. And – you triggered another kind of dishcloth memory… when I was a child and had food on my face, my mother would reach for the dishcloth at the kitchen sink to wipe it – yes, the dishcloth, used on food encrusted dishes, halfway dry and sour, ON. MY. FACE. I hated it then and I recoil now, remembering…
Kim, this, THIS! I think you have something here. You could start a Kickstarter immediately with this idea. These “invisible GPS homing strings” are genius. I love the palpable frustration (and reed-thin constraint edging toward anger) with the lines “that never / -do you hear me? never – / and I mean never, ever, ever not once / not once -” ! So well crafted and conveyed, lol! (Once you market this, you’ll be able to get all “the stackable birthstone rings” and “high arch and metatarsal support” Taos tennis shoes your heart desires! 🙂 )
Scott, what a romp of a prompt! Loved your poem — I could see and smell that magical pepper shaker, as you described it…and I couldn’t help searching for it online (said light’s purpose is, according to Google, “so that seasonings can be seen clearly.”) I HATE it when I can’t see my seasoning as it’s drifting onto my chicken! XD
My poem went in an unexpected direction — here it is. 🙂
By day, she mans assembly line
Conveyor belt and slow-burn time
Elapse as fingertips create
The products that we haste to rate
As useless, silly, waste of space –
Thus, time proceeds in petty pace.
Creates she what we oft ignore,
Wond’ring what they’re useful for:
Black plastic parts – not long before
They’re stuff of muck in junk drawer’s floor
Extra screws, never used
Plastic crap we tend to lose
Every day she slaves away
To make the parts we oft mislay
Then leaves her shift to don her cape
Adjust her crown and fluff cape’s drape
Takes her paycheck, magics things
For little ones, regarded kings,
Providing them with shelter, warm,
Food to eat and safe from harm
Hits her laptop, magic there
As words she spins from seeming air
To turn her boredom into bliss
To give her banal job a kiss
Through stories spun into pure gold
Hoping, soon, to see them sold
Her sleeping children, fed and bedded
Have no clue that in her head
Lie untold tales and worlds of wonder
Saving her from sinking under
Muck on floors, in drawers, in brain
That threaten to derail her train
Of thought and genius thus subdue
I can see her now: Can you?
Oh Wendy – wow! I can see her clear as day! What a fun romp in rhyme! Thank. you!
Oh, the magic of the story, the rhyme, the life of truth in all these things that we collect. I love that crown and cape, and the feel of the fairy….in her head lie untold tales and worlds of wonder…..the starting line of a children’s book. Yes, yes!
Wendy,
A beautiful narrative poem here. I am struck by the commentary on consumer culture in this one story of “her” and a “banal job” yet her “worlds of wonder” and her “stories spun” save her. She saves herself. Such power and agency you offer her and us Yes, I see her.
Peace,
Sarah
Wendy, I’m reminded of all those who labor away crafting the unnecessary items for consumers in order to have the necessary funds for subsistence throughout this poem. But the mother offering her children a magical world from this toil is the most precious of all. And loved that you brought music in lyrics to the ode!
I love the imagery you used in this poem. It made it so much easier to picture the women you were describing. I also loved all the rhyming you did because it gave the poem a flow when I read it!
Wendy! The Junk Drawer! And you captured that obsessive need some of us have of never throwing anything out, but needing to ensconce these random pieces of our lives neatly away — in RHYME! So great!
The rhyming here is spectacular, Wendy – I’m awed! I savored every word of this fairy-tale-worker-would-be-writer-mom – for she’s magical, indeed. Because of her, the world keeps turning. <3
Wendy, this is wonderful! Your rhythm and rhymes are so good; they carried me through your poem. And I love the “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow” allusion with the “petty pace” and (seemingly) fruitlessness of it all. I also love that writing (and creating) is what “sav[es] her from sinking under / Muck on floors, in drawers, in brain.” So good! Thank you for crafting and sharing this!
Scott, I am awed in a way by how your mind works, how you ramble from LED lights on a pepper shaker to a love poem “a trail for Heather to find me.” This is an interesting exercise for my overtaxed brain on a Saturday morning, clogged with a head cold, but I remembered Bacon Man. He came from an Archie McFee Christmas of bacon-themed gifts. Bacon bandaids were included.
Ode to Bacon Man (A True Story)
Christmas, 2015 or so,
my brother-in-law thought to send
a box of bacon-themed stuff
including Bacon Man, magnetized,
a foot and a half long, 5 inches wide
with tiny 2 inch arms and feet.
He stuck to the side of the washing machine
until years later,
Leo at 18 months pulled on his tiny arms.
Bacon Man came off, then on, then off.
Giggles from this serious toddler
jiggled Bacon Man, the washing machine,
and us.
Each grand that came after, one a year
for three years, pulled and tugged on ole
Bacon Man. They jiggled with giggles
and delight at the sight. Until Bacon Man
lost all his limbs.
A sacrifice 2 inches long
he longed to make
for the sake
of toddler giggles.
Margaret, Bacon Man has proved himself to be priceless – inspiring those toddler giggles! That sound is pure joy. I love story-poems like this one that you’ve crafted so well.
Margaret, so much to love in here, not the least the story, itself! But I especially admired:
“pulled and tugged on ole
Bacon Man. ”
(that “ole” just made me laugh, for some reason)
“They jiggled with giggles
and delight at the sight. ” (What a romp of a line!)
Great poem! (P.S. I also adore the Archie McPhee catalogue!)
Bacon man? Of course! Who doesn’t need Bacon Man and toddler giggles!
Margaret, I love the two meanings – long and longed – at the end, the twist of meaning. I can hear the toddlers giggling – – nothing else quite rights the heart like that sound of contagious joy – – and I can see Leo tugging Bacon Man. Oh, the fun!
I can see Bacon Man in all his glory…limbless and all.
But the giggles….oh those giggles….I can hear them. And is there any better sound in the world than that????
Oh, Bacon Man, Margaret! What a lovely narrative poem, of course, until Bacon Man “lost all his limbs.” But it seemed to be in a loving way with pulls and tugs from grands. I really like the humanizing you offer “he” in the longing and service of this doll ” for the sake of toddler giggles.” That phrase “toddler giggles” looks like laughter, too with the dd and gg. Huh!
Peace,
Sarah
Margaret – how could anyone go wrong with a bacon gift? And yet, I can imagine how wrong this likely was. Until the magic happened because of children. Their wonder should be our wonder. It makes me wonder how useful all our un-useful items might be for someone who is in the process of discovery!
Oh Margaret, I hope Bacon Man made it into memory photobooks for those grands. They will be talking about him for years!
Margaret, there is such joy in your poem today, such life and laughter, and, of course, a lot of bacon, lol. I can picture perfectly the “pull[ing]” and “tugg[ing]” upon “ole / Bacon Man” and the “jigg[ling” and “giggl[ing]” of the “grand[s].” Thank you for this Archie McFee reminiscence. (And I hope you get some relief soon from your head cold!)
Scott, as always, your poem is a treasure! The prompt itself is an invitation to hilarity – you never fail to make me laugh. I cannot believe there’s such a thing as an LED pepper shaker, but… lesser things clearly exist and I confess to having obtained a few. Maybe more than a few…ahem. My favorite of your observations in this poem is the knowledge that you won’t be able to find the flashlights and lanterns “strategically positioned throughout our house” when you need actually them- I know that to be THE TRUTH because my brain works (doesn’t work-??) in the same way! Thank you for this riotous fun. You have stirred a memory today… here goes…
Ode to the Fuzzy Pink Ballpoint Pen
The school store
wasn’t open
every day.
Someone
was strategic
about it
just like the
ice cream man
was strategic
about parking
his white-and-pastel van
by the sidewalk
across the street from
school
where we kids ran
to the sound
of those beguiling
carnival-chimes
Ice cream time!
Back to the school store.
We knew
when it would be open
I should say half-open
because the door’s top
would be open
while the bottom
stayed closed
with a little shelf
laid upon it
as a countertop across which
someone on the inside
transacted business.
We kids lined up,
coins in hand,
peering into the
closetstoreat all the wondrous things
awaiting our choosing
our hearts fluttering
with the thrill
of imminent possession.
Decades later
I still smell
the gum erasers
tan little blocks
dusted with powder
so pristine
and so thoroughly crumbly
when used
I still see the handheld
pencil sharpeners
with clear plastic lids like
the bubble-top
of The Jetson’s flying car
for collecting
the papery shavings
but nothing, nothing
compared
to the clickable ink pen
covered with fine
pink fuzz.
This was, after all,
the age of shag carpets
(my neighbors had it
on the floor, walls, and ceiling
of their bathroom).
I saw that fuzzy pink pen
and knew
it had to be mine.
I didn’t have enough money
that day I first saw it
so I waited a whole, long week
to stand in line again
to buy that fuzzy pink pen.
At last, at last,
I handed over my handful
of coin
to the storekeeper
(whose face, age, gender
I cannot recall at all)
who presented me
with the long-awaited treasure…
rosy-pink like the inside of
rabbits’ ears
as fuzzy as my Daddy’s crewcut
the pen was mine—MINE!
Down the hall I raced
to my classroom
where I pulled a notebook
from my ancient metal desk
yanking out a piece of
notebook paper
I sat to write
with my new
one-of-a-kind
wondrous
incredible
amazing
fuzzy
pink
pen
the
ink
I could tell
was supposed
to be blue
it barely
made a mark
on the paper
no matter
how long
or how hard
I scribbled
I sat looking
at the ink-scratches
grieved
that a thing which looked
and felt
so magical
could be so useless…
Oh, my precious
fuzzy pink pen.
The point:
You were pointless
except for writing
a new line
of disa-point-ment
on my child-heart.
Fran, this was fantastic!
Your sensory detail put me right there. I loved the analogy to the ice cream truck — so apt.
Love the “lesson” learned about trusting those shiny baubles! XD. How many times have I seen this happen (and to my kids?)?
Loved how undercut the sentiment and foreshadowed your poem’s lesson:
“I should say half-open
because the door’s top
would be open
while the bottom
stayed closed
with a little shelf
laid upon it
as a countertop across which
someone on the inside
transacted business.”
Appreciated your strikethrough, which I felt had the same effect:
“peering into the
closetstore”So much to love in this piece! 🙂
I love the shape of this poem. It takes us trailing off like the ink of the fuzzy pink pen. And I love your play with the word point – priceless!
Fran, I was there, right there – – in line, and could even see the half door. The whole thing, the gum erasers that were so used on my math papers, down to almost a small round ball by the time Mrs. Easterling got to me, and the smell of that fantastic rubbing away the marks. And the fuzzy pink pen dazzled me, too, standing right next to you as you bought it – those savings of allowance and delayed gratification until this firework of an ending:
The point:
You were pointless
except for writing
a new line
of disa-point-ment
on my child-heart.
That new line of disa-point-ment is the grand finale. Wow. Just wow.
And I thought you would be writing about a mail order ghost. This pen tops it all.
I loved this! Brought me right back to that school “store” that I hadn’t thought about in years. (You also reminded me of a particular pen which I then chose to write about, so thank you)
Oh I felt your grief when the darn pen wouldn’t even write…how cruel! And I loved “the point: You were pointless”
Now they sell those same pens but at book fairs rather than school stores…and I’m the one telling them not to waste their money…lol.
Oh! Oh. The disa-point-ment at the end is a breaker. You’ve reminded me of childhood visits to stores and all the pointless purchases made over the years (I wanted to stay awhile with Stroh’s Ice Cream Shoppe when that memory popped up – who wouldn’t?). I would hope I’ve gotten wiser but alas… not so much. On occasion, I’ve brought home something merely for the pretty of it – the wondrous, incredible, amazing of it.
I loved this poem. You brought me along for the ride of you getting the pen. I felt the emotion once you received the pen and then when the pen didn’t work. Great Job!
Fran, this is a joy to read, such a treat! You have such skill in evoking (and provoking) emotions with your perfectly crafted succinct details from the “white-and-pastel van” with its “beguiling / carnival-chimes” to the half-door of the “
closetstore” to the “tan little blocks” of “the gum erasers.” I saw and felt it all! And that pen, that pen! That “one-of-a-kind / wondrous / incredible / amazing / fuzzy / pink / pen”! What a moment of crushing defeat when it didn’t work as planned, as promised, as imagined in your “child[‘s] heart.” Epic!Scott, an adventure awaits with your poems, always. Today’s had me searching both pepper shakers and anti-odes, which brought me to the publication Peotry and from there… well, you know how it goes. Thank you for sharing your creativity! You have me wanting to try other author bio mash-ups.
Ode to Egen
My morning are spent
perusing.
What begins as a jarring
brain clanging alert,
(to-do items popping like corn
clock groaning 4:14)
becomes a slow awakening
(email trashing
social media crashing
wordle smashing
ode prompt balderdashing).
Which brings me to Egen
and the mini useless box,
leave me alone machine,
fully assembled funny toy,
turns itself off party gift game,
(options: blue, red, black)
because who wouldn’t want
all this
for just $11.99
with shipping an additional $2.99
(delivery promised between
Nov 8 and Dec 2).
We are approaching Halloween,
after all,
and somehow that brings us to
Mary Shelley
and the Last Man Standing
wandering the earth
at world’s end
amidst useless inventions
because this couldn’t be an ode
without including a literary great.
Oh, and this Amazon review should really
clinch the deal:
“Tried and tried to cancle [sic] this order
But to no avail
I figured my dad would like it
Finally recieved [sic] it after two weeks
And what a piece of crap…
Do not buy this.”
Jennifer,
I can relate to that slow awakening to “(email trashing
social media crashing
wordle smashing
ode prompt balderdashing)”
Fun rhymes to wake me up this morning
alongside a tall coffee.
Jennifer, I love how your mind wanders to literary connections… how many times do I also connect moments and experiences to those I have read? “This couldn’t be an ode without including a literary great” – masterful! Then to follow with the misspelled Amazon review is just perfect. As is all your rhyming for the brain’s morning clanging. The whole poem is a delight to read – that’s worth a lot, even if Egen itself is worthless.
Jennifer, that last line made me laugh out loud with its sense of anticlimax.
These lines were amazing (and sounded like the start to my day)
“(email trashing
social media crashing
wordle smashing
ode prompt balderdashing).”
And this shift was gold!
“We are approaching Halloween,
after all,
and somehow that brings us to
Mary Shelley
and the Last Man Standing
wandering the earth
at world’s end
amidst useless inventions
because this couldn’t be an ode
without including a literary great.”
Loved this!
Okay – I was intrigued and went online to find one! Do you know Walmart sells them for $21.99 and Etsy has a handmade one for $34.99? You got a useless bargain! Great poem – we can all relate!
Jennifer, it’s funny what all an alarm does to a brain, to a body, to a mind. They take us from zero to sixty in less than five seconds. I’m with you on the wordle smashing and love all those rhymes. I love that you included the actual review with its misspellings – – yes, that is the voice of true experience! I think entire novels could be written from some reviews. You wrote a winner for an October surprise!
LOL, Jennifer! I knew I was in for a wild ride when you enjambed “corn / clock”! Your rhyming ings pulled me along so well from the start — and I loved “ode prompt balderdashing.” And I love loved the line “because this couldn’t be an ode / without including a literary great.” This is so good!