Sometimes a blank page.
Then I imagine your tawny curls.
Freckled face. Standing in a field of
sweet turnips. A Panama hat
and snowy white dress.
I confess, it’s purely pedantic.
It’s naked and radiant.
It’s having amorous adventures and then
going home to eat macaroni, ham
and cheese watching TV.
Prompt: I suppose there’re days when you’re likely to skip writing a poem. Then you kind of stared into the blank screen page and started typing. The TV’s on and all sorts of bizarre foods were being gobbled up by Andrew Zimmern in the Faroe Islands and Hawaii. Lots of boat outings too at both places. Voila, they caught a yellow fin tuna and just sliced up its red flesh. Then you typed this thing up. It’s, voila, a poem. A doodling poem. Well, it’s Writer’s Digest Day 8 prompt.
Oh, and you’re supposed to tie your poem to Red Wolf Journal’s theme: Song Of Myself.