I’ve recently discovered and become rather enamored with the work of American-British poet Robert Peake. On his site he has a poetry prompt thingamajig, which randomly generates words to use in a poem. I was feeling a little stuck today in my writing, so decided to see if this tool could fix me up.
I tried for ten words and got: hens; undulating; harp; agreed; anew; expectations; treasures; encounter; ham; reefs.
This is what, and who, sprung to mind and I decided to post it as it came.
It was agreed that Vicky would get out
before she knew how to crawl.
Sitting on the filthy shag rug
in a soggy diaper
listening for treasures in the harp-string
melodics of her mama’s voice.
answering her mama’s invocation.
Yours will be a life anew,
hummed Vicky’s mama to her
undulating babe on the rug.
You’ll hit green summits,
plunge to skeletal reefs.
Encounter men with a natural knowing
of how a woman should be touched.
of being loved.
No truck stop life for my babe,
crooned Vicky’s mama to Vicky.
No serving up fried hens and greasy ham,
prying slimy fingers off your hips
when you come to refill the coffee.
No wearing some stranger’s old coat
to fend off that shrieking January wind.
I ain’t gonna buy you a mockingbird,
Vicky’s mama sang,
but I am gonna teach you
how to fly.
2 thoughts on “poem: Flight Song”
I love-love-love the last four lines. I didn’t understand the first two lines earlier today, but just re-read it all now and have a different and better understanding of the whole thing. Such power in this short poem! I am moved, and hoping for a better life for Vicky.
Thanks Valen! That is so kind of you. I hope you are still writing as much as you can.