NaPoWriMo Day 13: God Joke or Dad Joke

Prompt: Write a poem that follows the beats of a classic joke. Emphasize the interplay between the form of the poem – such as the line breaks – and the punchline.

 

A child asks
Is God real?

The mother replies
Well, it's ideal

She further asks
Is God perfect?

The mother smirks
Not quite, I suspect

The child cries
Is God right?

The mother sighs
It's quite the oversight

She shockingly demands
Will God appear before me?

The mother tries to understand
"Maybe on Zoom, let's see"

She gets sad and thinks
Will God ever speak to me?

They hear a voice

The child asks
Is it God?

The voice says,
"Nah, it's a bird"

"It is your Dad!"
The mother says

The child squeals
"That's not so bad!"

- Oizys.

Sorry
I am
Not So
Good At
Happiness
Or Funny.
Can I
Interest You
With Some
Bad Poems?
Some Cheese?

NaPoWriMo Day 12: My Dear Poem

Prompt: Write a poem that addresses itself or some aspect of its self (i.e., “Dear Poem,” or “what are my quatrains up to?”; “Couplet, come with me . . .”)

My dear poem,

What is it that you seek,
As you flow from my chest and leak,
Onto the keyword with wild speed,
To bring forth emotions and make me bleed.

My dear poem,

What is your purpose here,
To bring chaos, to awaken fear,
To challenge, to make one think,
Or simply to push the limits of the brink.

My dear poem,

You pry pain and loss,
Of shattered dreams and the cost,
You scream voice of the forgotten,
The ones who left me to be rotten.

My dear poem,

What do you hope to convey,
A message, a warning, or a way,
To stir the soul and heart of all,
Or simply to make the reader appall.

My dear poem,

Who do you speak to,
The young, the old, the wise, the new,
To all who seek to understand,
Or those who are just damned.

My dear poem,

How do you come to life,
From the depths of my mind so rife,
With secrets and stories to tell,
Or just a feeling I cannot quell.

My dear poem,

I am blursed at your raw power,
For breaking my castles in the air,
In a world that abhors ugliness,
You unfurl my misery and darkness.

My dear poem,

You are not very kind,
But you translate my mind,
In a world that silences me as meek,
You let me riot and keep.

- Oizys.