Sunday, April 27, 2014

National Poetry Month: Day 27: Where the wild things are

Today the theme over at the Writer's Digest Poem a Day challenge was 'monsters' and it was not the most shining moment for CathyBlogs. Even our trusty subconscious was stymied by that particular assignment. And yet we muddled through.

Poetry surrounds us, even when we don't now it. Maybe you read this book as a kid. Or read it to your kids. I've read it aloud a thousand times and love its words. Maurice Sendak. Where the Wild Things Are.
That very night in Max’s room a forest grew
and grew-
and grew until his ceiling hung with vines
and the walls became the world all around
and an ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Max
and he sailed off through night and day
and in and out of weeks
and almost over a year
to where the wild things are. 
I really, really like the ending
Max stepped into his private boat and waved good-bye
and sailed back over a year
and in and out of weeks
and through a day
and into the night of his very own room
where he found his supper waiting for him
and it was still hot.
Anyway, back to the prompt for today
... write a monster poem. There are the usual suspects: zombies, vampires, werewolves, and mummies. But monsters can take any form and terrorize a variety of victims. So have fun playing around with this one, because we’ve only got a few days of April left.
We tried to go large with this but, well, failed. So we went small, although oddly, it says just what I was trying to say. In a little way.


Under your bed
the deepest dark
is most crowded
… and most empty.

Easy out tonight

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