W3 Prompt #47: Wea’ve Written Weekly

Intro

Dear friends,

Welcome to our W³ Poetry Prompt, which goes live on Wednesdays at The Skeptic’s Kaddish.

You may click here for a fuller explanation of W³; but here’s the ‘tldr’ version:

Part I

The main ingredient of W³ is a weekly poem written by a Poet of the Week (PoW), which participants read before participating in the prompt.

Part II

The second ingredient is a writing guideline (or two) provided by the PoW. Guidelines may include, but are not limited to: word counts, poetic forms, inclusion of specific words, and use of particular poetic devices.

Part III

After five days, when the prompt closes, the PoW shall select one participant’s poem as the W³ prompt for the following week, and its author becomes the next PoW.

Simple enough, right?

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Okie dokie ~ Let’s do this thing!

I. The prompt poem:

‘Ode to my handmaiden’, a poem by Punam Sharma

As tears unbidden from my poor eyes fall
I wipe them surreptitiously with your help
sobs, suppressed smiles, snot; you have seen ’em all
your wee bit does effortlessly emotions schlep
from covering heads to wiping sweat
from the Grecian times to the Victorian and the present
an integral part of dressing you have been
ne’er minding the grime or being wet
luxuriating being doused in a heady scent
often carrying billet-doux unseen!

O dear handkerchief, often your ends I have knotted
to not forget a knotty affair
and when I was foolishly besotted
I did drop you with discreet flair
sometimes it led to utterly dubious assumptions
sometimes I received the response I craved
sometimes you lay in oblivion in the dirt
I rescued you then with chicanery and gumption
my attempts at coquetry you valiantly braved
keeping you close to bosom helped whenever I was hurt

This generation knows only how to use and throw
upstart paper napkins and tissues scarce can take your place
they may be fancy and pricey and convenient on the go
your embroidered and laced appearance embodies class and grace
from being neatly tucked in my school uniform pocket
to your now delicately perfumed presence in my purse
dear handkerchief, I cannot tell you what you mean to me
whenever I leave home, you, I do not forget
through thick and thin and better and worse
you have been my companion, my best buddy.

II. Punam’s prompt guidelines

• Write a Pantoum on the theme of abandonment.

What is an pantoum?

• The pantoum consists of a series of quatrains rhyming ABAB in which the second and fourth lines of a quatrain recur as the first and third lines in the succeeding quatrain;
  • Each quatrain introduces a new second rhyme as BCBC, CDCD;
  • The first line of the series recurs as the last line of the closing quatrain, and the third line of the poem recurs as the second line of the closing quatrain, rhyming ZAZA;
• The design is simple:
  • Line 1
    Line 2
    Line 3
    Line 4
    
    Line 5 (repeat of line 2)
    Line 6
    Line 7 (repeat of line 4)
    Line 8
  • Continue with as many stanzas as you wish, but the ending stanza then repeats the second and fourth lines of the previous stanza (as its first and third lines), and also repeats the third line of the first stanza, as its second line, and the first line of the first stanza as its fourth. So the first line of the poem is also the last.
  • Last stanza:
    • Line 2 of previous stanza
      Line 3 of first stanza
      Line 4 of previous stanza
      Line 1 of first stanza

III. Submit: Click on ‘Mr. Linky’ below

In order to participate and share a poem, open up this blog post, outside of the WordPress reader. At the bottom, just below these words, you will see a small rectangular graphic with the words ‘Mr Linky’. Click on that to submit.

Submissions are open for 5 days, until Monday, March 27, 10:00 AM (GMT+3)

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Last week’s W³ poem

This week’s W³ prompt poem (above), composed by Punam, was written in response to last week’s W³ prompt poem, which Michelle wrote:

‘I Am Your Silent Solitude’, a poem by Michelle Ayon Navajas

i was with you when you first cried, of a broken heart you never understood why at seventeen you bled.

you stained me with your tears of a lover who went away in haste leaving you shattered and damaged.

i was with you when you first had a fight, with your sisters sending your mom at the peak of her fury.

you broke my limbs, ripped me in pieces, for what you call a pillow fight.

i was with you when you first learned, the pain of being unwell was nothing but a death sentence.

you embraced me hard, so hard you had me chocked, i almost died.

i was with you when you first heard the truth that DNA does not count as family.

you punched me and threw me over and over the wall, as if it was my fault that you were not born from the family you learned to love your own.

i was with you when you first thought of dying, when death in fact was not even the answer to your problems.

you spoke to me like i could change a thing or two, but even then you knew i was with you all through your rough days and all through your smooth ones.

i was with you and i will never leave you alone, no matter what life throws at you, i will be beside you even in the darkest of nights and the coldest of days.

i am your silent solitude waiting to give you a restful night.