Day Five
on APRIL 5, 2022
Hello, all, and happy fifth day of Na/GloPoWriMo. The fun continues…
In a fit of quintessential frustration
sat a charming Miss Brigid but full of sulk
never mind she was the goddess season
whom every poet sincerely adored
never mind, she wore a cute bonnet and
that flowery defiance for a dress
’twas her toes that most enraged her
unbecoming of her charm
but she’d had enough of strange old Boreas
hogging the spotlight, way past his welcome
that she implored the services of the
mouse detective from the town by the lake
that’s how she heard Boreas was depressed–
that strong man with the violent temper;
winged man with frosted spiked hair
lost his conch shell, went off the deep end
and he raged, and he raged, oh how he raged
locked himself in a room with no mirrors–
with no mirrors, no clocks, no books on the shelves,
and in the tunic under his purple cloak
was the thermostat turned to freezing
oh, Boreas was depressed to perdition
depressed and horrified at his powers gone
and oh, how that embittered old man raged on
for to go tamed into that final goodnight
beats to live with a stuffy nose, itchy eyes,
too much for his old heart to put up with
thus he kept the thermostat at freezing
then on the bluest night in the Northern hemisphere
a profound sleep overtook Boreas
though he raged, and he raged into the dark
overtook him, just like that, Sleep did
to the point where Sleep dragged him out of
that room with no mirrors; dragged him, sleepwalking
and the people of earth heard him wriggling
on the doors and windows of their houses
where chimneys were timeworn, and children were bored
as the howling resounded — Boreas raged on
till at last, full of craze, the mouse knocked him on the crown
woke him to find the kids staring through the glass
the purple cloak lay like an old dog at his winged feet
his temper put aside, his wrath had no purchase
Boreas flung far his woe, sent his bile in the other direction
and in a flash of atonement, found the conch in his hand,
so he morphed into a horse, fast crossed the field of wheat
so the mouse handed the thermostat to Brigit
now you know the whole story. Happy Spring!
***
© 2022 selmamartin.com
The Challenge: to write a poem about a mythical person or creature doing something unusual – or at least something that seems unusual in relation to that person/creature. For example, what does Hercules do when he loses a sock in the dryer? If a mermaid wants to pick up rock-climbing as a hobby, how does she do that? What happens when a mountain troll makes pancakes?
Well, I hope you enjoyed the story about why winter has had
a tight grip on our weather.
Boreas is the Greek god of the cold north wind and the bringer of winter.
He is depicted as very strong, with a violent temper to match. A bearded man
with wings and a billowing purple cape; his hair, though would be covered in icicles,
in one hand he holds a conch shell, and his feet are winged human feet. He’s also
said to be able to take the form of a stallion. These are the hints I used to craft my
poem for today.
And now that this has been set straight, I promise you’ll feel spring come to stay.
So take out, whatever it is you take out to give spring (Brigid) a welcome we all deserve. Happy Spring.
Thanks for reading.
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I enjoyed this Selma! Great choice of subject too. (K)
Yeah, I took the opportunity to investigate for all of us why winter refused to go. And as you can see, the poor old man was depressed: lost his beloved conch shell.
But now we’re good. Happy spring to you. 😉 😘
I would be sad at losing a conch shell too.
Right?! So let’s give Boreas a break and send him on his way.
Thanks for the reading, dear friend. Xoxo
A delightful poem! Thank you for the explanation at the end.
Thanks, Dawn. Glad you enjoyed this. Xoxo
After reading the explanation, i read the poem again. It was simply such a delightful read Selma. Excellent work 💖
Aww, Radhika, you enjoyed the explanation. 👏 thanks for the two reads. I bless you. xoxo
Ooh, brilliant, Selma! Love this 💕🙂
You made my heart sing, lady. Thanks.
Excellent narration and characters. I could imagine it in the form of a poetry video too.
I’m thrilled you imagined it that way. Wow. Thanks for reading. Happy Writing, Gloria dear. Xoxox
What a great poem, you really created the atmosphere, I really felt this poem 🙂
Felt it. Waa 😭 Aww 😊 Thanks for reading and feeling it. You rock 💗
I’m a rock? I’ve been called worse 😉
You are doing a great job with this challenge, Selma. A sophisticated piece! 🤩
Thanks, Michele. Your words to me are precious. Stay sweet. I wish you miracles XoXo
Some strong imagery. This is my favourite line: “the purple cloak lay like an old dog at his winged feet” So nicely spaced. Does Aurora Borealis share the same root? It must…
Fantastic! I love the frame by frame images spilling from one to the next. It read like a fairytale. I loved the description of Miss Brigid’s character too!
Aww, thanks so dearly. Yeah, Brigid, full of sulk. Haha She represented what we were all feeling about Boreas overstaying. Haha. Thanks for the support. xoxo
You aced this prompt Selma! Well done 🤩
Glad to hear that. Thanks. xoxo