This time, I will start with the annotation.
This piece was written for Wordsmith Wednesday – Snooping . Victoria essentially asked, “Have you written any short stories or poems that were inspired as a result of listening to conversations in public places?”
I was at an office today where two women at the reception desk were talking. One had a packet in her hand containing a set school portraits. However, the subject of the portraits was not a child. It was her husband, who is a school teacher. Included in the packed was a Child ID card, in case he went missing. The two women were laughing and making fun of the whole concept of a grown man in a child-portrait framework. The conversation of course flowed to the fact that men act like children, so the wife needed to keep this missing child card, of her husband, in case he ever got lost.
So, of course, I wrote a men are like children themed poem.
Adding this after the fact, due to someone saying that the poem is not very flattering to men:
I am writing this in the voice of the women who are making fun of the husband. I do not think all men are children. Some men are tooooo serious. Some men are toooo power hungry. Some men are there for you, and are loving and caring. I’ve singled out a situation about a man I never met, who might not even be childish, based on a conversation. Why? Because the prompt here is about snooping, and I found the conversation interesting and animated. For all I know, the women talking may not think this man is childish, just went in that direction because they found it funny to see the man’s picture on a “missing child” ID card.
Notice that I did not call the poem “all men are like children.” I called it “when men are like children.”
when men are like children
(you know it all)
absorbed in avocation;
wide, shallow geek in many ways.
omnivorously eating candy-apples
like a loving super-horse.
living in the two-dimensional.
whining when he doesn’t get his way.
perpetual adolescence, shallow and deeper;
always in an problematic place.
stomping, throwing, fighting and whining.
he does it on a fishing boat.
mirrors of his own emotions ―
like sipping weak tea, just for fun;
victorious warrior one minute.
directionally challenged for hours.
gripping obsessions. distracted.
never losing his spontaneous heart.
Also posted in Theme Thursday -October-13-2011-fish.html
Also post on:
Ms. Ellie Shrillcock
A woman of the highest squeakery
has a big problem:
Although she’d thoroughly
Invest every cent
In hard-core sentimentality.
Ms. Ellie Shrillcock, single mom and sentimental
piece of ass had her squeaky
butt wiped off her centripetal
self. Now, she probably
rides like a thoroughbred
race horse on the mend.
Flesh-like jerks, with mighty menhoods,
steer her with phemerones as they sniff scentless
silk tulips. Her house is a thoroughfare –
her boys try to keep it squeakily-clean.
Where is she sleeping tonight? Probably
not in her own bed. This past century
who was your first centaur,
Ms. Shrillcock? Was he a menace
with a torturing proboscis?
Or was he a sentinel
with the squeakiest
quivering beneath your tight skirt? With thoroughness
you lazily transcribe central
bureaucratic formats. Squeaker,
with the lurid voice, that mental
patient whose final sentences
are compounded by problems,
is the only one you comprehend. How probable
for you to fall thoroughly
from elegance to sleaze. You were sent
to a celebration of centennial
proportions, for rugged men
who spent several years getting the squeak
out of their problematic voices. A cent
will buy you a thorough morality mentor
to exhume your inessential nasal squeakiness.
Hosted by Gay Cannon. Her sestina variation being Art in 5.7.5 – Sestina Variation
Picture Credit blindgossip
I wrote thins in 1994 about…well, someone with a squeeky annoying voice, who had some issues. Let’s just leave it at that.
Please feel free to comment, and help me be a better poet.