So a strophe and a spondee
walk into a bar,
and order a round
(-elay).Bartender deals them up a
couple of rum
-bled phrases, heads to the back
to crack open another case of beer
and a jar of olives for the
smarty-pants lovebird antonym ana
-pests in the corner booth. Truth
(reported bold, and slightly slurred
after a third round of dangerous
villanelles), these two can barely
hands off of each other. By mid
-night, the stories and the secrets
and the fibs fly fast, threaded
through with taradiddle and dactyls.
Fractals of fact:
– her favorite brother’s getting married,
…..despite her family’s warnings and laments;
– he’s fighting a wave of depression, the scent
………and the Poe(m) of nevermore.
They’re a collision of clouds
waiting to clash, a tidal wave of first
impressions and second chance,
a portrait of perhaps-abilities.
One glance, and she knows
she’ll never stop memorizing
his pantoum eyes
and his cantor cough.
But by 1am, they’re all
Poetic Asides April PAD Challenge, day 30. Whew. This is the one with all the prompts. Congratulations to all who finished a full month of poeming!