Napowrimo Day 7 -how it pains !
7th April
And speaking of news, today our prompt (optional, of course) is another oldie-but-goodie: a poem based on a news article. Frankly, I understand why you might be avoiding the news lately, but this is a good opportunity to find some “weird” and poetical news stories for inspiration. A few potential candidates:
“Earth Has Acquired a Brand New Moon That’s About the Size of a Car,”
“Ohio Man Seeks World Record with Beer-Only Lent Diet”
“Pablo Escobar’s ‘Cocaine Hippos’ May Be Restoring Colombia’s Ecosystem”
“Researchers Discover Faraway Planet Where the Rain is Made of Iron”
Plants let out ultrasonic distress screams when subjected to stress [December 9 2019]. This news item appeared as a headline in many newspapers.
“This is absolutely true, that I feel pain too.”
Groggy with sleep, I looked around, my fists balled.
Was it an insect’s distress call?
Or a fly longing to serenade me with a nocturnal song?
May be a bat, or a pangolin, pained by all- pervasive accusations
of being behind the pandemic?
The hiss was now almost a kiss on my clouded brow.
Who was this nocturnal creature whispering sweet- somethings in the dark?
“You fellows are so mean,
you have the audacity to even tamper with our genes,
reducing us to mere have-beens.”
I peeped out of the window and in the light of the moon,
saw an ancient tree stretching its branches upwards and moaning.
“Don’t you think we feel the pain, when we are chopped down?
Come on, wipe that ugly frown. Down with your cruelty!
You hack off our limbs with impunity, you monsters!
When they etch love notes on our bark, how it pains!”
Its whisper was now a long- winded, anguished refrain.
“This is just, sentimental trash,
Honestly, I don’t believe this balderdash.
I am fed up of your pesky complain, you old fogie!
Ha ha, now I know, you are talking of folklorish mandrakes.
We have a Harry Potter fan here. Hear! Hear!
You seem to have read, or may be seen,
Harry potter and the chamber of secrets, h ah aha.
You do have colossal sense of humour,
but pray, stop spreading these rumours.
Don’t expect me to fall for this hallucinatory pain! My foot! Ouch!”
I fell from the couch as I banged my foot against the wall.
An owl hooted, rooting for the unhappy tree.
Ultrasonic screams reached a crescendo of pain
as all the trees seemed to be vocalizing their collective agony.
In the light of the moon, I saw something etched on the tree bark.
“This too shall pass”, the etching sparkled like hope in the dark.
What would pass- our screams or the tree’s scream?
I wondered, yanking myself awake from the lucid dream.
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