Thursday, April 24, 2014

Poem 24

Number 24

POV....write a poem from the point of view on a inanimate object. A doughnut, couch, coffee table, bird house, Christmas tree. The object becomes the speaker, taking on human qualities, remember not to be cliche. Doughnuts are not happy because they are tasty. Chairs do not all have the same personality.

You looked at me the other day
as I sat weary
standing on end in a row with the other books
the ones you bought
made promises to and
placed here on the shelf
in the living room
so your guests can judge you by
title and author
trial by hardback and soft cover
I remember the early days
you reading me on the train
flashing my cover at
the objects of your affection
you'd write notes in my margins
linger over my compelling paragraphs
and then
you begin to dog ear my pages
set coffee on my cover as if I’m a coaster
you've moved on
gone on to other distractions
magazines and bestsellers
things you can read on an electronic...thing
and I'm left here
an oddity in your hipster collection of
the correct graphic novels
the Chronicles of Narnia
(Of which you've only read the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe)
and an unread copy of Proust
I am as passe as ironic facial hair
someday I'll win a Pulitzer, A Nebula, A Poe,
I could be nominated for the national book prize
and you'll never know
won't recall my genre
my sub genre
you gave up after the love scene in the first 63 pages
and could pay no more attention
you didn't care how my characters grew
or the fascinating twists of my plot
or that my philosophical revelation on page 289
may have saved your soul
when the reviews are in
you may try again
please don't,
loan me to a friend,
let them benefit from my lively narrative
you should go
watch some more television

see who gets thrown off the island.

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