Saturday November 28th, 2020

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about something that is: tumultuous.

2 comments:

Greg said...

Sorry this is a little late, but to make up for it I'm giving you all of Part IV so far together, since a lot of what's happening in this Part seems to be covered by the prompt today!

Tumultuous
If Commerce is the Engine of Government
Then the mechanics are all gathered here tonight
Atop Kittering’s Vigil to discuss how Emma B
Has their plans shoved indelicately down her pants.

“Either this is a trap,”
Says a woman with pince-nez spectacles,
“Or someone is sincerely derelict in their duties.”
Emma laughs, short and harsh: “Just one of you?”

Spud’s men have set a perimeter
Whose delimiter is the range of night-vision goggles.
It seems impenetrable. Unless you’re Red
Leaping from tree to tree, nearly invisible.

He squirrels his way along branches
That bend under his weight and whip as he departs.
“Birds or bats?” asks a guard as Red drifts past.
“Better be birds!” — those are words from the heart.

One guard has strayed too far,
And topples, eyes glazed, brain mazed as Red descends.
He borrows the goggles and jacket and blends
In perfectly. Uniform is a mask after all.

One more guard joins the ranks at the cliff’s edge,
Merging seamlessly with the ones already there,
Listening to fury as Spud learns what Emma B
Had down her pants. She doesn’t care.

It’s a moment that shouldn’t arrive but somehow it does.
Red’s inching closer to Spud (and the edge)
And Emma’s got back on her feet with her hands still tied
And a bat is given a nudge and flies into Spud’s face.

Spud flaps his hands, his demands momentarily forgotten
And Emma kicks the woman with pince-nez spectacles
Somewhere she’ll remember for a while. “Save the boss!” yells Red
And all the guards charge forwards into a fracas.

Emma’s thrown forward as the guards charge and bounces
Off Spud like an unmoored barge. He staggers towards
The nearest guard — who’s Red and who’s eyes are hard.
A hand hits Spud’s face and launches him off Kittering’s Vigil — into space.

Marc said...

Greg - no worries. It's nice to have this much together, to really catch the flow of the tale as we heard toward its finale.

Hmm. I don't think spuds are particularly well known for how well they fly. And as for landings...