Drifting (a poem)

If the last two years of National Poetry Writing Month have taught me anything, it’s that I’m more likely to write something if I have some kind of prompt to work from. Otherwise, I write only when I feel like it, or when a noteworthy phrase pops into my thoughts. So, I borrowed The Daily Poet: Day-By-Day Prompts For Your Writing Practice, by Kelli Russell Agodon & Martha Silano, from the Kindle Owners Lending Library on Amazon.

The prompt for May 4 involves making a list of rules about writing poetry—either ones you’ve been taught, or ones that you’ve come up with yourself—then writing a poem that breaks at least four of them. Since there aren’t any rules I can think of (I certainly don’t have such a list anywhere), I did a Google search, and worked against the Poetry Writing Tips at YourDictionary. (The line about sex acts comes from the Useless Facts web site.)

DRIFTING

I haven’t the foggiest idea what I’m doing
it seems that I’m just here
Nomads have no fixed address
maybe I should fix chicken tonight

It’s hard to break something that isn’t there
even harder to break with the idea
Metaphors are like indigestion
they only bother you when they don’t work

She was like the reverse of a hurricane
calm on the outside, stormy on the inside
I hear there are 100 million acts of sex a day
My building is very quiet

(4 May 2014)