It's Still Life

NaPoWriMo Day 8
(written in the style of Spoon River Anthology, E.L. Masters)

Misky B.

I was born in a clean, bleach-scented hospital
after my mother ate a bowl of chilli con carne, 
and then took a long walk on the sand dunes.
I was left in the hospital for a few weeks so
my mother could recover herself at home,
which was a blessing, she often said, as I was
a troublesome child. I’m told I was born with
a full head of hair, which immediately started
falling out. I wasn’t much bothered, but my
mother was, and I long continued in that vein.

PA AprilPAD Day 8: A Metaphor Poem

I Am Worth Picking Up

I’m a dusty old pine cone
    fallen to the ground,
watch me bounce
    and watch me roll.
I’m buggy and flea-ridden,
    stiff and prickly, dried
    in the sun and tumbled  
    by a gust of wind.
I’m collected.
        Arranged.
        Adorned.
        And spray painted.
And puzzled over like
some Fibonacci mystery.
I’m worth it. Pick me up.

The Poeming: Found poetry from Silence of the Lambs

Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter   © Misky 2021