First of all, thank you to Maureen Thorson for featuring my blog and my poems from yesterday on her blog today. I'm glad my short "postcard" poems got some attention. I actually shared the honor with the blog Behind Door Number 3, whose author (I couldn't find their name) wrote an exquisite poem about summer and longing for someone not present.
Today's prompts:
WBP: Write a "major event" poem.
NPWM: "...write a poem that centers around an encounter or relationship between two people (or things) that shouldn’t really have ever met – whether due to time, space, age, the differences in their nature, or for any other reason."
PSH: "When I was born: Provide a roadmap of your life, with its purpose, goals, challenges, achievements, and expectations for success." (Martina Robles Gallegos)
I really don't know what to do with that third prompt. It seems to invite one to write an autobiography, which would be far beyond the scope of a daily poem exercise. Maybe I'll revisit it later, but for now I'll focus on the other two prompts.
The major event is a no-brainer: Today is the total eclipse of the sun over much of the U.S. In my neck of the woods it will only be a 90% eclipse, but still something worth observing. As far as two people or things that shouldn't have met... well, I imagined my encounter with a mythical creature.
Eclipse Dragon
When I put dark glasses to my eyes
to view the solar eclipse today,
I saw a Chinese dragon chomping
on the bright disk.
“What are you doing?” I cried.
“What I have always done,”
he replied. “Fulfilled my hunger for fire.”
“But you’re not real,” I protested.
“Science has explained the orbits,
the shadows and positions.
It’s just the moon between us
and the sun.”
“Are you going to believe the scientists,”
he said, “or your own eyes?”
“What about the others?” I pointed to
my neighbors, also gazing upward
with shielded eyes.
“You’re the only one who can see me,”
he laughed. “And I wouldn’t tell them,
or they’ll think you’re crazy.”
“And what about the other stories?”
I asked. “In Vietnam, they thought you
were a frog. In Korea, you were dogs.
The Hindus thought you were the head of Rahu.
The Pomo tribe in the Northwest
thought a bear was fighting with the sun,
and some Christians in my homeland say
you are a sign of the Apocalypse.”
“Only myths,” he scoffed. “Now if you don’t mind,
I have a lunch to finish.”
And when he was done, he left a blazing rim
around his plate.
to view the solar eclipse today,
I saw a Chinese dragon chomping
on the bright disk.
“What are you doing?” I cried.
“What I have always done,”
he replied. “Fulfilled my hunger for fire.”
“Science has explained the orbits,
the shadows and positions.
It’s just the moon between us
and the sun.”
“Are you going to believe the scientists,”
he said, “or your own eyes?”
my neighbors, also gazing upward
with shielded eyes.
“You’re the only one who can see me,”
he laughed. “And I wouldn’t tell them,
or they’ll think you’re crazy.”
I asked. “In Vietnam, they thought you
were a frog. In Korea, you were dogs.
The Hindus thought you were the head of Rahu.
The Pomo tribe in the Northwest
thought a bear was fighting with the sun,
and some Christians in my homeland say
you are a sign of the Apocalypse.”
I have a lunch to finish.”
And when he was done, he left a blazing rim
around his plate.
1 comment:
Great job with the dragon! As you saw in one of my poems this month, there were similar myths in the Philippines,
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