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Write a poem they won’t understand
Hide it.
Bury it under exotic words and fashionable
figures of speech,
Shower them with similes.
Make your language as dense as a forest.
Surround them with a soundwall of
alliteration. Resort to repetition, if all is lost.
Whatever you do,
make sure they won’t understand.
Hide it.
Hide it well.
This poem retracts views expressed here and here.
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What It Might Become
The Egg
That morning song, your time to rise.
That midnight call, an ill omen.
Those wings, a shadow from above.
A feather, that you find
and keep for luck.
The Magic
It might have been inside you all along.
Or maybe it doesn’t exist.
Does it matter?
The Dictionary
That thing which lists and orders,
That thing which informs and defines.
That thing which prescribes.
A collection of words.
A museum of exhibits,
their little wings pinned.
No escape.
The three short poems were written as an answer to these poems.
Dear Nataša, after our April ended, I decided to do four centos with nothing but our closing April lines. For this I chose the final lines of your first palinode.
ReplyDeleteToday I posted my last cento that includes your lines. You can find it here: https://manjameximexcessive6.wordpress.com/2023/05/27/four-april-centos-no-4/
Thank you most kindly for your words. Much love to you and Serbia.
Manja