PAD Day 29: A "Metric Poem" and an Ode to My Wheelbarrow

Before I start, I just want to thank Maureen Thorson for featuring my blog on her NaPoWriMo site. I guess she really enjoyed my silly skeltonic verse about skunks. Thanks, Maureen!

Today's dual prompts from Poetic Asides and NaPoWriMo: (1) write a poem about "metrics" (or, I presume, a poem in metrics), and (2) take a favorite poem, pick out one concrete noun from it, do five minutes of free writing from it, then make a new poem from the result.

For the first time all month, I wasn't able to combine both prompts into one poem. But that means  I have two new poems for today.  Here's the first:

A Metric Poem

We sometimes run kilometers

(5K is popular here).

We drink our Coke in liters,

and water, but not beer.

We briefly employed Celsius

(also known as Centigrade)

to tell just how hot we were,

but that trend began to fade.

We are a land of miles and feet,

and we're mostly metric-free.

If you're looking for a meter,

you'll still find it in poetry.

And yet, that's not quite true of Frost,

who talked of promises kept,

but not kilometers he must go

before he finally slept.

And here's my response to the NaPoWriMo prompt:

No White Chickens

wheelbarrow

you sat inverted, forlorn

in the garage all winter

until now,

hauled out for spring

and you have seen many -

chipped red paint

one screw lost from the frame

a  handle grip gone

when I push you empty

your bed bounces up and down

with a metal clatter

your wheel

slightly bent

has a slight wobble

you are rusting because

like Dr. Bill's wheelbarrow

you were left in the rain

but you still can haul

soil, or mulch, or plants

into the garden

you carry

that musty fresh earth smell

back and forth

unlike your famous cousin

you don't sit beside

the white chickens

but you are more alike

because so much does depend

on you