Tuesday, April 01, 2014

April Kicks off National a lot of things month!

Well I am writing 30 poems in 30 days again this year. I did the challenge last year and felt really great by the end with some decent poems amongst the rabble. I post all daily ventures and give myself 10 minutes to write them. Occasionally, I break the 10 minute rule, but most often stick with it. Check out other poets on the NaPoWriMo page.
Please join me in writing if you are so inclined. You don't have to post them, but if you do write I'd love to see one that your are proud of when the month is done or if you'd like to share them and don't have a place to do that---you can join me on my page!
I informed my hubby that it was poetry month and National Autism Awareness Month and then he listed all the things that organizations claim in April. The list is pretty daunting when put together.
National Humor Month
International Guitar Month
Keep America Beautiful Month
Lawn and Garden Month
National Pecan Month
National Welding Month
Records and Information Management Month
Stress Awareness Month
Confederate History Month
Financial Literacy Month
School Library Month
Earth Awareness Month
Math Awareness Month
He dared me to write a poem mentioning each of these or using them. I can't resist a dare. It took me about a couple of hours all told, but it is better then I thought it could be and not at all like the draft I roughed out in ten minutes.
Keep me honest and let me know if I missed something. I think I got it all at least in passing or spirit.

Bending the Strings in Blues
Someone once asked me
What kind of bloke am I
That I can’t take a joke?
“Take a joke?” I quipped
I informed him,”I was thoroughly equipped
To find an unequal equation most humorous”.
He thought I had great hubris
Then I told him he didn’t understand
The full meaning of that word
How absurd to assign hubris to a humble school librarian
Whose roots were completely agrarian
Going back to the Civil War days
Harvesting pecans for those who didn't deserve spit.
And might I add, I had records to attest to it.
My people sweated long days under the Georgia Sun
It was no fun to be sweltering like a welder in a crucible
It was cruel.
He apologized commenting that he had no idea
That his remark had triggered this litany of Confederate History
We both starred at the lawn rich and green
Like it would produce a transition to the scene
I spied a flyer he had dropped and picked it up
Telling him not to litter as it was “Keep America Beautiful” month
“Ah yes” he agreed, “but it isn’t my flyer”
“What does it say?” I asked “Is it a house buyer?”
“A what?” he said like he didn’t understand the game.
“You know, “I buy houses for cash!” Old Whatshisname”.
“No, not that, “he said, “it looks like a flyer on financial literacy
He quoted,“Be all that you can be in the Money Ranker’s Army!
We help you build the wealth in stealth
Taking the stress out and increasing your health!
Check our record, we will keep you unfettered!”
“The information in those records must be overwhelming!” I stated.
“It kind of stresses me out to think about,” he capitulated.
“Me too,” I crooned.
“To me,” he said,”to distress is a night out on the town listening to some smooth blues.”
“What would you use?” I asked straightforward.
“Pardon?” he puzzled.
“What is your preference?” I attuned.
“I suppose,” he ventured “A sharp shootin’ fella belting out a GatemouthBrownesque tune.”
My heart leapt,”And the axe of choice to give it voice?”
He cast out, “A MartinD-28?”
“Or a…a…” and our eyes met in that fateful state
We exclaimed,”A Gibson Firebird!
He looked stricken and I stiffened as he inquired,
”Hey, would you like to go out on a date?”
I didn’t know what to say.
Did he not see my autism? Had it gone away?
I nearly ran inside to hide, but he repeated it and added this,
“Not many women I know would know about the Firebird and I know this is absurd,
But I like you with all your quirks. Please don’t think me a jerk.
I was trying to ask you out all this time. A real date on my dime.”
“I would like to say yes to your proposed meeting.” I stammered,
“You often give me a nice greeting. I…I…I…will say yes to your request.”
We made it to hear smooth blues,
He told me a joke, “What did the guitar say to the guitarist?”
(Though he had to explain it as he is the artist)
The punchline is “Pick on someone your own size”.
I laughed looking into his eyes.
Eyes that see me as I am
Autistic, intelligent and loving the same bands
I know today I’ve made a very good friend
All these conversations bridging our gaps
We still go around in many laps

But those blue notes still bend and bend and bend.

Clarence Gatemouth-Brown playing his Gibson Firebird and fiddle

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