Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt: Today, we challenge you to write a poem that is based on a secret shame, or a secret pleasure. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting ‘Opposing Forces for Saturday Mix, March 3, 2018. The words are melt and freeze, and East and West.
Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Sorry, a bit of cheat with this one, but I couldn’t get the idea out of my head for the photograph. I think it’s 4 or 5 sentences. But who’s counting. 😉
Credit: Jerry Kiesewetter via Unsplash
Say, there’s a million dollars in one green box (ignore the yellow boxes), and there’s Monopoly money in all the other green boxes, but you don’t know what green box has the million dollars, and what boxes have Monopoly money.
You select green box number 7 as the box (you guess) has the million dollars, but it’s also revealed that in green box number 2, there’s only Monopoly money; do you choose a different green box or stay with green box number 7?
Many people would say, there’s a 50/50 chance your first choice is the correct green box with the million dollars, but they’d likely be wrong, and here’s why: There was a 3/4 (75 %) chance of you choosing a box with Monopoly money, and there’s still 1/2 (50 %) chance of you choosing the Monopoly money, when green box number 2 is revealed. There’s only 1/4 (25 %) chance of you choosing the million dollars; therefore, you should change your green box selection because there is a greater probability you were, initially, wrong choosing green box number 7, than choosing the green box that contained the million dollars.
“When I first think of something sharp, pain comes to mind but then I think of an A sharp or a B sharp. Of course there are sharp turns, sharp angles and “He’s looking sharp.” and let’s not forget, sharp as a tack and look sharp.”
Not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Not the brightest crayon in the box.
Boxes need opening with sharp knives.
Boxes, trapped in our boxes, locked.
Lock it up tight.
Lock it or else
Else in the morning you’re to blame
Else, you’ll lose your job, what then
Then you don’t know
Then you can’t tell
Tell nothing because
Tell nothing they say
Say you’re not bright
Say you’re a bit dim
Dim as shadow
Dim as a dark room
Rooms, you’ve not one your own
Rooms are nothing, you’re vagrant
Vagrant wandering needs people
Vagrant wandering seeking close
Close enough, no one will steal
Close enough, no one will think
Think you’re more than homeless
Think you’re more than a mistake
Mistaken once, but you’re capable
Mistaken once, but you’re smart
Smart, can you appear that way
Smart, most people aren’t
Aren’t life smart
Aren’t more than book smart
Smart, who cares when you’ve no food
Smart, who cares when you’re so cold
Cold eyes of people staring
Cold hearts of people cracking
Cracking your bubble
Cracking your safety zone
Zone of space around you
Zone of personal space
Space is all around you
Space, there is too much of it
It, means a place you can stay
It is a place called home
Home, needs a job to pay for
Home, lost because you weren’t sharp
Sharp is the knife that cuts in life.
Sharp is the knife that cuts in life.
The Blitz Poem “The Blitz Poem, a poetry form created by Robert Keim. This form of poetry is a stream of short phrases and images with repetition and rapid flow. Begin with one short phrase, it can be a cliché. Begin the next line with another phrase that begins with the same first word as line 1. The first 48 lines should be short, but at least two words.
The third and fourth lines are phrases that begin with the last word of the 2nd phrase, the 5th and 6th lines begin with the last word of the 4th line, and so on, continuing, with each subsequent pair beginning with the last word of the line above them, which establishes a pattern of repetition.
Continue for 48 total lines with this pattern, And then the last two lines repeat the last word of line 48, then the last word of line 47. The title must be only three words, with some sort of preposition or conjunction joining the first word from the third line to the first word from the 47th line, in that order. There should be no punctuation. When reading a BLITZ, it is read very quickly, pausing only to breathe.”
Please see Shadow Poetry for further information.
Apologies, the whole bolded text above should be indented but my WordPress App is misbehaving.
One part which always stuck out for me was the title of the book and why exactly men are like waffles and women like spaghetti. The above image from reminds me of these analogies.
Just as waffles have all those small squares in them or boxes so do men in how they organize their life. Each area of their life is a box and never shall two boxes meet. A man’s work or his job is one box and his kids maybe another box. His wife and his relationship with her is another box and so is his fixation on fixing old cars or spending time chilling out watching Netflix or the hockey game on TV.
Woman on the other hand, are like spaghetti because everything in their lives is mixed with everything else going on in their lives. Each thing is connected and affects other things. For instance, if a woman is stressed out at work and her boss is riding her tail to finish a project, this might make the woman angry and moody at home because she has to hold it all in at work. Her kids know something is up and stay away from Mom and she feels rejected.
Suddenly, she needs to clean everything in the house and is making the kids clean up too. Cleaning in this instance, makes her feel better because she is in control and able to accomplish something. At work she feels she cannot accomplish what she needs at the moment. Then Mom is upset at her kids because they are not doing a thorough cleaning job. At home, Mom’s the boss.
Her husband comes into the great room to see what’s up with all the noise and cleaning on a late week night. He and his wife start talking and she’s mad at him and picking fights over him leaving his laundry on the floor and not texting her back at work today.
She tells her husband she doesn’t have time to clean up after him, she’s really busy at work and no she can’t come to his work event. She can’t possibly make idol conversation with that weird woman her husband works with and seems to always want to talk to her right now, it would push her over the edge. Disatisfaction at work is effecting her whole life.
A smart husband would realize something is up and talk his dear wife through things until he hits on the realissue. Or better yet, let his wife talk until she gets down to the realissue. After voicing her feelings, his wife will be happier and more relaxed.
On the other hand, her husband doesn’t understand completely why his wife needs to talk things out and why everything in her life effects everything else.
His life is in boxes (apparently naked high up in trees) so when the work box gets to stressful, he goes to the box where he can tinker with the car he’s rebuilding. Work doesn’t effect him here, in fact, this box may help the husband think things through or gain perspective on issues he could be having at work or say the fight he had with his wife.
So all you men in your boxes, let your ladies talk it out and if they won’t, encourage them to talk when they’re ready. I know you don’t get this whole talking just because you need to thing, but actually you’re helping your woman find the root of a problem to deal with it. And that makes you a problem solver with a happier life and wife.
Ladies, let your guy tinker, watch sports, or whatever when he’s stressed. He’s not as vocal as you and he’s thinking things through or giving himself a break from stress. He’s in his box and it’s giving him reprieve from his problem because he’s not in that work box or in another stressful box. When he’s ready he’ll say something, what he’s decided or after a while if he’s not a talker, you can encourage him to talk or outright ask him what’s up. Better not to to be too subtle!
So that is the most memorable and important thing I learned from this book. Do you think it’s true in your own life? In anyone’s life? Or is it an outdated model from an old dating guide?
“Ahhhh, coffee. I love it. Would you like some?” Peter asked the woman. He didn’t remember her name.
“I don’t drink coffee, thanks Peter,” Sally said her throat feeling raw.”I could use some water, or orange juice if you have any?”
Peter peered into his fridge. It was bare. “Um, Susan, I have cranberry juice is that alright?”
“I guess. And my name is Sally, Peter.”
“Oh. Uh. Sorry Sally, I drank a lot last night.” Peter said.
Sally shrugged. “Whatever Peter.”
“Actually, you’ve been calling me Susan since your third beer last night. I kept correcting you every time but you kept calling me her name. Who’s Susan?” Sally questioned.
Peter appeared nervous. “She’s no one. Just an old girlfriend.”
“Ah,” Sally remarked, “I understand now. Got any whole wheat or multigrain bread for toast?”
Peter wasn’t listening. He drank his coffee remembering the morning Susan left.
“Where are you going?” Peter asked Susan.
“I’m leaving Peter. I’ve had enough. I can’t take this anymore.” Susan said. She had all her possessions boxed up and had hired a mover to load up the furniture she purchased.
“You have to have seen this coming.”
“No, we had one fight and now your leaving me?” Peter asked.
“It wasn’t one fight, it was many fights over three-years. You never understood. It always came down to the same thing.” Susan remarked.
“What, what did it come down to?”
“You Peter. It came down to you. You always did whatever you wanted, demanding I tag along. When it came to doing what I had to do for a work event or visiting my my friends, you never showed up.”
“Time and time again, you told me to quit my job. That I shouldn’t be spending so much time working or visiting my own friends.” Susan said, “I’m not putting up with your controlling behaviour anymore.”
“No, Peter. I have a life. My own life. I’m tired of explaining things to you.” Susan said frustrated.
Peter was speechless as the movers came, taking the furniture Susan bought, and all of her things away.
When Susan and the movers left, Peter felt the gnawing emptiness of his condo.
” Peter is there bread for toast?” Sally asked.
“What?” Peter asked lost in his head.”Oh no, sorry haven’t been grocery shopping this week. There’s cereal?”
Sally sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll drink my cranberry juice and be on my way.”
“Leaving so soon? Want to. . . ”
“No, Peter I’m fine. I don’t think I can handle being called Susan again.” Sally remarked.
When Sally left, Peter remembered the emptiness he felt without Susan. Sally reminded him, he was a failure with women. Peter returned to bed to sleep off his hangover.