Creeping Unconsciousness

[Janet]

I found your last three excellent. Whiskers made me smile-ode to the kitty. Seventeen is a good life and I enjoyed being introduced to pusillanimous which is a clever lead into your cat poem.

Creeping unconsciousness really resonates and those last lines are killer. Unexpected.

[bop]

Thank you Janet for the kind words and I'm glad Whiskers made you smile.
bop

[bop]

In drink I think less
colours taken flowers fade
life is lived in grey

[M]

bop!! How did I miss this thread until now?? Creeping Unconsciousness is just...sooo good, as is the haiku, which is much the same in tone. So few words say so much. You've always been able to make brevity appear effortless. Scrabble was another one that struck me. Loved the image of the cat frantically scrabbling and the moth burnt at the edges. Been way too long since I've read you. I'll be back!!
--Michelle

[vmh]

Hi Bop: Fritallaries has a very ominous tone despite the springiness of topic. Great vocab to build this.

I like the edginess of Scrabble, taking the verb and working it in other ways, and great imagery.

I probably laughed too much with your duck poem. Well done.

The pacing is excellent in Canteen Culture, building suspense. I was curious as to what N was going to do, and I cheering when he did the right thing.

Your thread title poem again waits until the end to give the reader a kick in the pants. How we learn to live with what we do. Nice.

Your cat poem is very sweet

Strong thread. Subtly emotional and occasionally dark.

Vicky

[bop]

Michelle and Vicky,
I'm glad you both found something to like. I haven't picked a theme this NaPo so I'm floundering for ideas a bit now.
Thanks again.

[bop]

You phone me on your iPhone
during my Euphonium practice.
My phone doesn’t have Facetime,
it’s a phone without pretension,
so no, I can’t see you smirk
as you repeat ad nauseam:
’Euphonium! Euphonium! WTF’s a Euphonium?’
You take the piss out of my piston valves,
giggle at my sweet-voiced brass.
You’ve annoyed me now, so I press
a button on my ancient phone,
cut off your iPhonyism
and blow on my Euphonium.

[Donner]

Hi, bop,

I know what a Euphonium is! As simple as the poem seems, I like N for his unpretentiousness and his chivalry in defense of his instrument.

Nice, nice work so far. Your work has a very compact, interwoven feel to it, with sounds playing with each other. Even the fun ones like "Muscovy Duck". (And maybe even more so. And I laughed, too.) I think my favorite so far is "Creeping Unconsciousness" for the way everything in N's life falls apart almost as an afterthought.

Donner

[Emilio]

Bop bop, Creeping Unconsciousness is a very strong poem, numbness, aging, the dynamics of love moving in terms of the physical, I enjoyed this very much. Muscovy Duck had me laughing out loud, thank you!

[bop]

Donner and Emilio,
Thanks for the encouragement and for liking Creeping Unconsciousness too!
bop

[bop]

Moomintroll forms in the evening sky
and as the sun begins to set,
a plesiosaur lurks low on a bluesy-pink horizon.

Moomintroll is now a cat, supping from a bowl,
plesiosaur breaks his jaw and slowly dissipates.

The cat paws at the darkening remains
of a broken bowl with disembodied claws
then starts to disappear.

[bop]

From microdot to jelly tot
fish eyes float in thousands
among bogbean and lily leaves.
Most will die: bitten by frost,
broken by beaks, devoured
by the cold tongues of newts.

Snakelike pupils start to writhe
within their protein cocoons.
The egg is eaten and broken,
as tadpoles dart and dance
to freedom, with top-heavy heads
and shiggling meteor tails.
…

(I ran out of energy on this one and will probably go to sleep thinking of frog legs! I'll try and finish it before the end of the month )

[M]

bopbop! Great start, lovely word sounds. I had a thing for tadpoles and lily pads and toads when I was little. I loved the images this brought me! Thanks!!

[bop]

Thanks Michelle, I got rather tangled up with that one and all my words started to get jumbled up too! Thanks for looking in again.
bop

[bop]

Not the millennium falcon,
(Star Wars is boring)
this was a Peregrine
and man it was soaring!

Shooting the sky
an avian arrow,
eyes like phasers,
fixed on a sparrow.

Fly free little sparrow
the falcon has seen
a brace of pigeons
flying serene.

A flexing of talons
then a warp driven dive,
in a flutter of feathers
only one’s left alive.

It picks and it tears
at gizzards and flesh,
guzzles on blood
still warm and so fresh.

The pigeon still wears
a look of surprise,
till the falcon stoops
and pecks out its eyes.