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ConnectHook Apr 25
Perfect happiness’ greatest fear?
The Other is deplorable.
Extravagance is insincere;
Proust’s mustache is adorable.

I’m only up to number seven.
Uninspired, its time to bail
If Marcel P. was barred from heaven
His essays were a massive fail.

Marcel Proust, you silly fellow
Prose overwrought, effete and gay,
Puffy mama’s boy marshmallow
You’re Hell’s to toast . . . now roast away.

May virtue’s signalers all thus burn;
This uninspiring questionnaire
Will mainly cause one to discern
That heads are up their derrière.

True verse can never be a list
Of humanistic questions asked.
More fit that some psychologist
Should have their godless soul thus tasked.
PROMPT 25:
write a poem based on the Proust Questionnaire,
a set of questions drawn from Victorian-era parlor games,
and adapted by modern interviewers.
You could choose to answer the whole questionnaire,
and then write a poem based on your answers,
answer just a few, or just write a poem that’s based on the questions.
ConnectHook Apr 24
On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose . . .

Networking, presenting the numbers
Adjusting the data for benchmarks
Reviewing best practices
Speaking vapid motivational drivel
Accompanied by pastel-toned slideshows
Full of dull corporate graphics—

   On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose . . .

Acting with intention
Staying centered
Celebrating balance and cultivating awareness
Curating selfless acts of charity
(yet still suppressing God at heart)
Being connected in authentic community—

   On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose . . .

Believing in yourself to achieve your goals
Seeking your own inner light to guide you
Recognizing how deserving you are
Working towards what makes you happy
(denying there will be a judgement of your soul)
Creating your own reality—

   On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose . . .
PROMPT 24:
write a poem that begins with a line from another poem, but then goes elsewhere with it.


Lucifer in Starlight

ON a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose.
Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend
Above the rolling ball in cloud part screened,
Where sinners hugged their spectre of repose.
Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those.
And now upon his western wing he leaned,
Now his huge bulk o’er Afric’s sands careened,
Now the black planet shadowed Arctic snows.
Soaring through wider zones that pricked his scars
With memory of the old revolt from Awe,
He reached a middle height, and at the stars,
Which are the brain of heaven, he looked, and sank.
Around the ancient track marched, rank on rank,
The army of unalterable law.

George Meredith (1828–1909)
ConnectHook Apr 24
Ready for any feminist feat
In her ****-tube and starry skirt,
Wonder-Woman looks petite
(though probably ought to don a shirt)
In, fact we’d better make her black
Before her foes, unhinged, attack . . .

Go-go boots show off her legs
Muscled for emancipation;
And for bearing wonder-eggs
Through empowered ovulation.
Binary gender’s warrior queen
Bursts forth upon our sexist scene,

And bristling with the strength of ten
Of her not-so wondrous sisters,
She centers red-starred crown, and then
She’s off to fight the truth’s resisters:
Rosie the Riveter’s better half—
An old-school feminist sacred calf.
NaPoWriMo 2024
Prompt #23:
write a poem about, or involving, a superhero
ConnectHook Apr 22
I wish that, philosophically,
I could commune with my dear wife . . .
Instead, we biologically
Against all odds, amidst the strife,
Pursue one therapeutic end
Where pleasures, with relief, descend.

I wish we could discuss the arts—
Talk poetry and invoke the Muse.
In place of that, by fits and starts,
We thrill to what we can’t refuse:
Theory made practice, sweaty, hot…
Conjecture spurned for what we’ve got.
Couldn't take the NaPoWriMo prompt today...
ConnectHook Apr 21
One who heard us was a woman named Lydia,
from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, 
who was a worshiper of God
.        Acts 16:14 [ESV]

I'll say it straight to Alice Walker's face:
Veil for prostitutes and genderqueer beasts—
A color fit for hierophants and priests;
Symbol of both the decadent and base.
A hue unfit for tablecloths at feasts . . .
Scarlet is regal. Blue, too, has its place.
Let Thyatiran Lydia state her case,
But purple celebrates strange swelling yeasts.
No fault in bordering on indigo
As long as chroma stays within the blue.
But mix it up with red? Don't do it. No.
Yet, good contrast to yellow's golden grail . . .
What says the holy humble Murex snail?
Feel me: PURPLE is not the way to go.
Prompt 21:
write a poem that repeats or focuses on a single color.
ConnectHook Apr 21
70 A.D.

History comes back to bite us
As we learn of the temple and Titus.
When it's Rome against Jews
There is one side must lose—
Though the outcome may fail to delight us.


135 A.D.

Another rebellion: once more
They attempted to settle the score.
Since “messiah” Bar-Kokhba
(Right up to the Nakba)
The region relapses to war.
PROMPT 20: write a poem that recounts a historical event.
Draw on your memory, encyclopedias, history books, or primary documents.
ConnectHook Apr 18
Parece comedia aburrida
La farsa de mi vida;

La mía no tiene sentido
Casi caso perdido,

Todavía no elaborado,
Desesperado.

Preferiría ser
Una idea antes de nacer;

Así no tendría
Que ver otro día . . .

Ayúdame, oh Creador:
Tú—mi narrador.
PROMPT 18:
write a poem in which the speaker expresses the desire to be something else, and explains why
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