Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to recreate a myth in a poem. The A to Z Challenge quote from GoodReads has an author with a P in their name. Also, thank you to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday.
” I moan with pleasure.
“Did you just have a foodgasm?” he asks, wiping ricotta from his lips.
“Where have you been all my life?” I ask the beautiful panini.”
― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
There are those who believe the Greek gods left,
Went away, didn’t return, disappeared.
Where there was greed, pride, avarice, lust, and war,
There was no longer, because these gods were,
Never gods, more like spoiled children who were —
Tolerated for a while until the —
God who is the God, decide that they,
Need find another place to play, beyond —
Olympus, and Athens, and Rome — and then,
Came the Popes and the Cardinals, more sin.
They had always been there, but now they —
We’re warriors and wise men, judges and —
The Greco-Roman gods and goddesses,
We’re invisible, ethereal, just air.
It’s what becomes of beings that ‘are,’
But aren’t real, they’re missing a certain —
Quality that means that in some form they’re —
Alive; full of heart, blood, bone, marrow, soul.
But these gods were but mythology so they,
Faded as much mythology does.
Legends of all kinds and all cultures who
Have been, before and after them, or so —
I was told, ’til I began to see such surreal —
Things in town, at dinner talking with —
My dad, about life, and school and then,
Beside us was this old man; and his eyes,
We’re blue and twinkled, he had such,
Vigor for his age, he smiled at me while he —
Talked to his friends, other gods he said.
Not the God, but gods, he said who had been,
To me they were all invisible; he said —
Long ago in Greece and Rome, he was king.
As Zeus or Jupiter, but now they —
All blended into humans, they had their —
Special places where they could go, greeting —
Their old friends and eating what gods do.
He ate panini, talking loudly,
Today it was Aphrodite, he also —
Said he was eating Ambrosia, the food,
Gods required, and an extra plate lay,
Near his hand, licked clean; he said that his son,
” Talisman weave stories of our hopes, our fears, our dreams, our pasts, and our futures. Weave a tale about a talisman – perhaps one of yours, and let us into the sometime secret worlds talismans represent and protect.”
Even as a spirit, Bernice told stories well. Bernice’s hands circled her own throat miming a squeezing action and then her eyes rolled back in her head as if she were dying.
” I get it Bernice, I understand someone killed you but who? Please talk!” Jackie heard the whisper of her sisters ghostly voice finally in the wind, “Davey . . .”
” Davey killed you Bernice? I mean he’s a prick but he hasn’t got the smarts, has he?” Bernice began to cry and pointed to Jackie. The wind howled and the bell of the old church down by the park began to ring. In the howl of the wind and noise of the bell she could barely hear the force evident behind her sister’s ethereal voice” HE WANTED US BOTH DEAD!”
Bernice’s concern was evident as she curiously began to fade into thin air. It was daylight and the park was now empty. Bernice had come at an odd time in the day as Jackie was walking. Then, Jackie looked towards the church bell which had rung its last ring and she realized she was vulnerable.
Word Count: 176
Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting! If you want to participate go to:
Can you see her? Gesturing to me and wringing her hands desperately trying to make me understand something. “Well spit it out Bernice,” we always use to tell her and she’d laugh, shrug, and with a giggly sunshiney but quiet voice explain a funny story.
Bernice and I always use to go to the gazebo in our favorite park and talk the situation out when she or I had a problem. The last time she spoke to me she was concerned about my new husband Davey. ” Jackie” she sighed, ” he’s just not right for you. There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on . . . and he hates me, seems threatened by me as your sister.” I shrugged off Bernice’s accusations, although, she had been right that Davey wasn’t for me.
Bernice doesn’t talk to me anymore or meet me anywhere but at the gazebo. She gestures and flails her hands and I beg her to talk. My sister is a pale ethereal figure who tries to make me understand something. What? I don’t know. Plus, there’s this funny dark bruising around her neck. She won’t explain. It’s as if she’s a ghost. . .
Word Count: 193
Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting! If you want to participate go to:
Waking up to reality can be a cold splash in the face or a more subtle realization, as if you have been fighting your way through cotton cobwebs that never end and suddenly, you are as Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Your entire perception has changed and you are awaking to a world of colour and a place where the rules of reality don’t apply. My friends and I would call this feeling ‘floating in the pink clouds’ or ‘existing in your own bubble.’ Now that I’m here, I would call this place wonderful and enchanting. I would call it a reprieve from reality and my everyday problems. I would equate this place with a profound sense of love, peace, and tranquility although, it isn’t always about these terms. But it is a place I feel grounded and safe, connected to my significant other in a way I have felt with no one and can barely describe. Some people might call this phase untruthful and that it is not how things actually are between couples. But I believe there must be some truth to it as John Donne wrote about the connection among couples being a world unto itself. In The Good Morrow Donne writes ” If ever any beauty I did see, / [w]hich I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee” (6-7). These lines suggest that to the poet that the finding and receiving of the most beautiful things is not nearly equal to finding the person you love. In fact, all good things before the speaker found his love become hazy and obsolete as if the speaker was in a dream before he found his love.
Perhaps, this is an overalls romantic and unrealistic thing to feel, nonetheless, it is something I am experiencing. I think the feeling I get around my boyfriend is rather odd actually and I doubt a lot of my family understand it because of his religion. But we both walked into this relationship knowing it was a practical difference between us and many times I have pondered over it and the reason I love someone who has these beliefs I feel are untrue. But it doesn’t seem to make a difference I just love him more. I have come to believe that no matter our beliefs it is my job to love him throughout this life. And maybe somehow God will allow me to reach Him in ways that just aren’t possible now. I would like to love him forever, but this lifetime is enough if need be. I know loving your first boyfriend can be a laughable ideal. But I am not 18 or 19 years old either. I know we have details to work through and that there will be challenges between us. But I know what I know, that this is real and worth the hardships I probably will endure for it.
I became quite sure of this this past week. It was like I was slowly waking up and the warmth from the sun finally hit me and when I awoke it was into that ethereal world of colour and sharp realization, that I had everything in front of me and was in need of nothing.