Day Thirty #NA/GloPoWriMo

Day 30 Prompt: 

And now, here’s this year’s final (optional) prompt. In his poem, “Angels,” Russell Edson speaks of these spiritual warrior-messenger-guardians as if they were a type of endangered animal. Brief as it is, the poem is disorienting in its use of flattened diction, odd similes, and elliptical statements. Today, try writing your own poem that discusses a real or mythical being or profession (demons, firefighters, demonic firefighters) with the same sort of musing yet dispassionate tone.

Happy writing!

Proctor Divine of Forests and Vines

 

has either perished or still stood in line

outside an Office of Environment

of some progressive Government

in hemispheres East and West

waiting to collect her dues for keeping

the Green intact in the Blue planet

like a gambler who’s lost every penny

but insists there is hope—she will recover

all that’s lost to Greed

O! That word again—

starts exactly like green

but ends on Dead, Dread, Dumb.

 

The Proctor had resigned three generations ago.

Legends say, the skies had rumbled No,

Or was it  Know?

It’s up for debate.

 

That’s what we do.

We talk. Talk. Talk.

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