This is
America, Buddy
So if you want to order real American food
in my diner, like pizza, crepes,
or frankfurters and sauerkraut,
you’d better speak English, capice?
Don’t be a schmuck and give me your lip –
we can go mano-a-mano any time.
So what if I’m gung ho about speaking the language?
If you don’t like it, c’est la vie.
And don’t forget, Friday’s Karaoke Night –
we’ll all be singing “Gangnam Style”.
in my diner, like pizza, crepes,
or frankfurters and sauerkraut,
you’d better speak English, capice?
Don’t be a schmuck and give me your lip –
we can go mano-a-mano any time.
So what if I’m gung ho about speaking the language?
If you don’t like it, c’est la vie.
And don’t forget, Friday’s Karaoke Night –
we’ll all be singing “Gangnam Style”.
The second prompt, from Poetic Asides, was to take a line from one of your April poems and make it the title of a new poem. I took it a step further and wrote a poem comprised of one line each from twenty of the poems I wrote this month (including the title). In other words, I wrote a "cento". All are the original verbatim lines, too, except for one which I broke into two lines.
How Complex You Are
Okay,
I'll tell you unequivocally,
Nature: I love and hate you.
I'm dopey enough to tell you how I feel.
We've breezed through laughter,
slogged through tears,
promises, engagements, hearts,
casting aspersions, doubts, accusations
when you betrayed me. Still I held back rain.
Pessimism loves a vacuum.
The ants are in the peonies again.
Ghost-faced owl dives, curls talons.
Please keep your wrath at bay -
we can't let the dark possibles dictate us.
Sun plus warm equals melt -
then take a walk, admire daffodils.
Let's go on a holiday to the borderline.
Our bodies respond with madness,
like a town crier on Doomsday,
lips puffed beyond the natural,
with fireworks of purple.
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