PAD 2019 – Day 15

My province goes to the polls tomorrow. There seems to be so much riding on this election, and though it was a short campaign, I am sick of it. The anticipation. The punditry. Want the results so the band-aid comes off, and I can deal with whatever sore remains. All of this on my mind today as I read the Poetic Asides call to write a “prediction” poem.

 

I Predict A Riot*

 

One day until the election.

I’ve stopped reading poll results,

stopped making mental counts of

the election signs in my neighbourhood.

Stopped listening to reporters, pundits, soothsayers.

Who was it that said that the wisest among us

are usually silent?

 

I put on music instead. Brit rock.

Not London Calling, but somewhere familiar.

Somewhere where they understand the frustration

of the common masses, tired of what really trickles down.

But this song is so bouncy,

makes me want to shake it, not revolt.

On a day like today — cool, grey,

trees still stark and stiff from winter,

I could use a dance infusion.

Want to be moved to move

and not strain my thoughts

about why people believe what they do.

Why money is more valuable than care.

Why I still tell my kids to behave, be responsible

when what the world needs now

is lassies and lads getting lairy, sweet lairy.

 

* with thanks to Kaiser Chiefs for the title and the inspiration

 

PAD 2019 – Day 12

Uniting two prompts again today — Poetic Asides call to write a “The Art of _____” poem, and NaPoWriMo‘s suggestion to write a poem about a dull thing.

The Art of Polishing

 

the dull spoon at the front of the drawer is begging for it

luster lacking, spots of corrosion

this spoon has seen some things.

 

spit shine won’t work or it’d be gleaming

all the times it’s entered someone’s mouth

it needs a rub, a good honing,  friction, baby.

 

a vigorous reminder

that there’s silver vitality, a sexy sheen

hiding under layers of grey experience.