How’s Waldo?

Prompt: Identity


Dear Wednesday,

Who the hell do you think you are? Or, more calmly, do you think you possess a reliable self-awareness, or are you kidding yourself?

How do we gauge our level of self awareness; how do we crack the code of what our “identity”— the fact of being who or what a person or thing is; self, selfhood, singularity, uniqueness— actually entails?

I think we all should be able to express our singularity in a western haiku poem. What, you are more complicated than that? No, you’re not. You have more similarities with the billions of other people in the world than you have differences. You like walking in the rain, Red Bull, sardines, Persian carpets? You loathe hypocrisy, mistrust the medical establishment, secretly love dogs more than people, admire those who don’t give a shit about what others think of them? Congratulations! You’re not unique.

English haiku is a three-line composition, broken down into 5-7-5 syllables, and featuring a lean, elegant style which often references nature or an unexpected juxtaposition of subjects (according to Wikipedia, if you need a source). But the western version is flexible, should anyone find the constraints too difficult.

Opaque surface pierced
By sunlight and forgiveness
Empty shell beneath.

That’s me after a five-minute attempt. I found it hard. Try it?

Meanwhile, cartoons about the topic and prompt identity are not abundant, though the first (and maybe second, least likely the third, but possible) of today’s selection of some of my favourite cartoons is tangentially so related:

cartoon waldo wonders


cartoon superheroes in underwear


cartoon duck hunting


Nanowrimo is coming soon, so off to prep. Happy week!

~~FP

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Moxie

Prompt: Moxie

dachshund tan

There once was a doxie named Moxie
Who lived in a town called Biloxi.
He liked to play Yahtzee
While hearing Tchaikovsky
Then read a nice pamphlet by Trotsky.

There was a young doxie named Moxie,
Whose foxy young bitch was called Roxie.
He gave her a necklace,
She threw it in his face—
“I want diamonds, I don’t want Swarovski!”

 

In Case You Missed It: My Love

Prompt: Expectation

war-of-roses-2

In Case You Missed It:
February 14, 2016

My love is like a red, red rose
With velvet skin and thorny toes.
…Now that’s not true, his feet are heaven,
Soft, with toes of three and seven.
That’s ‘ten’ in case you cannot add,
That’s just how many toes he had.
And still does have, I’m trying to rhyme,
It’s tricky as I’m short of time.

But still, my love has silken eyes,
Whate’er that means, and when he sighs,
My heart leaps up—but that’s not so
‘Cause that can mean he’s doesn’t know
What’s in my head, and that frustrating
And not a state worth celebrating.
But when he sighs for love of me,
Then my heart plays a symphony.

My lord, this poem has gone astray,
But I’m not done, please let me say:
His hair is mostly there, and grey,
And when he laughs, I want to pray
And thank the gods for his accent
Which is of Lancashire descent.
For when I want to smash his face,
He’ll drop an H, and we’ll embrace.

My love is like a red, red rose
With velvet skin, and thorny toes.

Poem©Fluffy Pool

Caramba! Que pasa?

Prompt: Bounty

santa-tejanos

I couldn’t find a credit for this gem of a take on the classic “Night Before Christmas” poem, but I love the life and spirit of it.

Tejano Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the casa,
Not a creature was stirring — Caramba! Que pasa?
Los ninos were tucked away in their camas,
Some in camisas and some in pijamas,

While hanging the stockings with mucho cuidado
In hopes that old Santa would feel obligado
To bring all children, both buenos and malos,
A nice batch of dulces and other regalos.

Outside in the yard there arose such a grito
That I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito.
I ran to the window and looked out afuera,
And who in the world do you think quien era?

Saint Nick in a sleigh and a big red sombrero
Came dashing along like a crazy bombero.
And pulling his sleigh instead of venados
Were eight little burros approaching volados.

I watched as they came and this quaint little hombre
Was shouting and whistling and calling by nombre
“Ay Pancho, ay Pepe, ay Chucho, ay Beto,
Ay Chato, ay Chopo, Macuco, y Nieto!”

Then standing erect with his hands on his pecho
He flew to the top of our very own techo.
With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea,
He struggled to squeeze down our old chiminea,

Then huffing and puffing at last in our sala,
With soot smeared all over his red suit de gala,
He filled all the stockings with lovely regalos–
For none of the ninos had been very malos.

Then chuckling aloud, seeming very contento,
He turned like a flash and was gone like the viento.
And I heard him exclaim, and this is verdad,
Merry Christmas to all, and Feliz Navidad!

Hyperbole and Day 5

Prompt: Hyperbole

white-dove

Day 5 of NaNoWriMo brings both hyperbole and humility.

hyperbole-poem

So true… unless that child is Donald Trump.

Humility, empathy, charity, tolerance, and respect are important for children to understand, too.

Vote if you can, pray if you can’t!

 


In case you can’t view the image:

HYPERBOLE POEM

What am I?

I’m bigger than the entire earth
More powerful than the sea
Though a million, billion have tried
No one could ever stop me.
I control each person with my hand
And hold up fleets of ships.
I can make them bend to my will
With one word from my lips.
I am the greatest power in the world
In this entire nation.
No one should ever try to stop
A child’s imagination.