New to the Q?Here’s what to do: Give a hoot about the rules and write us a poem of exactly 44 words (not counting the title), including some semblance of the word hoot.
Melissa’s prompt is “Without further ado, today we write about cycles of transformation. Anything will do, but your poem needs to have a beginning, middle, and end.” You can join in here: https://dversepoets.com/2025/03/04/metamorphosis-of-sorts/
My mom has been very sick. I admitted her into hospital for a fractured rib and bronchi-pneumonia yesterday. She is on an intravenous antibiotic and is doing better this morning. It seems a bit relentless with sickness and ill health in my family lately, but onwards and upwards.
I was away in the bush with limited wifi access this week. I did manage to read this prompt, and I wrote this American cinquain (2/4/6/8/2) while bouncing around in the back of the safari vehicle.
Marvelous earth
Shared earth
Inhabited
By numerous creatures
Each with unique adaptions to
Survive
This is a sneak peek at one of the sightings we had:
Picture caption: Two female lion cubs about six weeks old. These are the smallest cubs I’ve seen in the wild.Picture caption: This tiny girl cub reminded me of my cat. She was so cute lying asleep in the sand.
This is a video of the two lionesses and the two cubs. Look at the one cub playing with mom’s tail (it was windy so that is the sound you can hear).
I’m back from my quick trip to Sabi Sands which was mainly to see leopards in the wild. Leopards are very endangered so seeing them in nature was high on my list of ‘must dos’. Afterall, with climate change and continuous habitat encroachment by humans, these magnificent creatures, and many others, may well be gone forever in the foreseeable future. It always saddens me that so few people (relatively) care about nature and the conservation of our oceans, forests, wildlife and birds, but there is only so much the few that do care can do to raise awareness in the face of a wall of indifference.
I know that the readers of this blog do care, and I thank you for that.
Melissa‘s challenge is slightly complex this week. She proposed a few artworks by the same artist as picture prompts and asked poets to write a poem expressing the thoughts the picture of their choice evoked. After writing the poem, she suggested we read up about the artist and see if it changed our feelings in respect of our chosen artwork. You can read about the artworks and join the prompt here: https://dversepoets.com/2025/02/18/sep%c2%b7a%c2%b7rate/
I chose this artwork:
My song parody below is intended to be humorous and take the ‘mick’ out of some of the pretentiousness and snobbishness in some art circles. It doesn’t necessary reflect my views on art as I do produce some non-realistic, surrealist work myself.
Why can’t artists choose to create objects of beauty?
Why can’t artists choose to create objects of beauty?
Still life paintings so realistic they almost smell fruity
Why add to the ugliness in this world?
Depicting on paper the endless hatred that unfurls
***
Just look at it
Misery articulated in every line
Flying in the face of all teachings of the Divine
***
You might say I picked a poor example
But did I?
What’s the purpose of a banana taped to a board? Note 1
An over privileged buys it for a price few could afford
How pretentious to call that mockery art
***
I wouldn’t pay a single cent for that
In fact, if it was a gift, I’d send it back
I’d view it as an insult to my sensibilities
Why can’t artists focus on depicting happiness and joy?
***
You’d think purchasers would want to view art with pleasure
Something delightful to brighten up their day
But no, they prefer to wallow in the hideous
Or even worse the clearly sad and piteous
***
Of the banana, I’m not a fan
But it’s better than a painted beer can Note 2
Really, what has art come to?
I’d much rather look at artworks produced by kindergarteners
***
Squiggly line drawings – I ask you what sort of art is that?
It’s this sort of mediocracy that allows AI to compete
AI artworks easily as good as those of modern art elite
Why can’t artists focus on depicting happiness and joy?
***
The attributes of a good piece of art should be well-known
You shouldn’t have to look at splodges and try to guess
Exactly what the intent was behind the colourful mess
An artwork’s content should clearly show what it is
***
As soon as an artist picks up his pencil and starts to work
Viewers should gasp in wonder at the work in progress
That rarely happens with much of the art that does the rounds
Looking at it turns the viewers smiles to frowns
***
A good example is modern surrealist art
What on earth is its purpose to a viewer
It makes me want to poke out my eyes with a skewer
There are even times when art completely disappears
***
Disappears … What is non-art? Why use the word art
In connection with an object that is something else entirely
I can see a photograph is a photograph without any enquiry
Surely everyone can see a stone’s a stone
***
Artists go to school to learn techniques and styles
Just as clothes designers must learn all about textiles
Why do they throw everything they learned away?
I think their attempts to be different lead them astray
***
There is nothing better than a beautiful landscape
There is no need the natural world to reshape
But create a realistic picture and you’re criticised
Why can’t artist focus on depicting happiness and joy?
Reading up about the artist didn’t change my dislike of his work, although in saying that I did find this face painting compelling in a dark way. In fact, it made me wonder even more why he is famous. So, my song above remains unchanged. Do you recognise the rhythm and flow? I’ll give you a hint – I went to see My Fair Lady on Sunday evening and the music is still stuck in my head.
I am not much of a team player. I have had some very bad experiences where my hard work and creative solutions have been accredited to more senior people on my so called team. I’ve also had situations where the team doesn’t listen and a crisis results. These situations have left a bad taste in my mouth and now I prefer to run my own processes with as little involvement from other people as possible.
Sanaa has provide a lovely Valentine’s prompt for d’Verse, as follows:
1- Love Potions and Concoctions: Write a poem as a recipe for a love potion. Throw in some berries and cream, maybe a dash of cinnamon and chivalry. Tell us what love means to you.
2- Love Letters Through Time: Write a poem in the form of a love letter. It can be addressed to yourself, to someone special and/or in memory of a person who has passed.
3- Love in a Digital Age: Bring love into the 21st century by exploring the dynamics of modern relationships. I am referring to the age of social media, dating apps, and virtual connections. Let your poem decide whether technology enhances or complicates matters even further.
Sphiwe held up the panelled “love letter” necklace she’d created for her young husband, BongiNkosi. The numerous beads glimmered in the strong summer light. BongiNkosi was working far away on a mine, and this intricately patterned artwork was a secret declaration of her enduring love.
Smiling, she thought back to the early days of their courtship when she was just fourteen years old. After she and BongiNkosi had agreed to proceed with a relationship, she’d fashioned a simple ucu (necklace) made of two strings of twisted white beads to which she’d attached one beaded white ring as a symbol of her virginity. Her iqhikiza (older sister) had presented the gift to her admirer on her behalf. A giggle escaped Sphiwe’s slightly parted lips as she remembered how BongiNkosi had rushed home to hang up a white handkerchief, announcing to the world that he was in love.
As their relationship progressed, Sphiwe had crafted other rings and a second love letter incorporating numerous red beads to demonstrate the evolution of her love and her longing. BongiNkosi had reciprocated by replacing the white handkerchief with a red one.
With one hand on her swollen belly, she kissed the necklace and laid it in a box, ready for travel. It would serve as a reminder of their love and his forthcoming fatherhood until the time was ripe for him to journey home for the birth of his first child.
roberta-writes.com 