Time is running out if you wish to join in for the month of July in the A and I Bilingual Poetry Challenge (running each month until October). Linkbacks to contributors will be posted next week. Leave a comment here, and tag your post as per instructions, to be included in the July round up.
The prompt for July is:
Turn on the radio to any channel.
Write a poem inspired by the first thing you hear
(lyrics to a song, a commercial, etc.)
For the Afrikaans version of the Poetry Challenge, please visit Ineke at scrapydo2.wordpress.com
Full instructions on joining in with the Poetry Challenge, look here
One member of my blogging community posted the following poem on his blog, Chief Writing Wolf and I am reproducing it here, as I believe that the thirst and acquisition of knowledge is so important. The radio can be a vehicle for this, particularly in remote areas of the world.
If I may sound critical of I.
But I realized once a short time ago,
That I’m a whore.
A whore of the spirits.
My mind and body and everything in between are open to everyone and everything.
It’s not that I have no moral turpitude.
I’m a glutton for emotion.
I’m a fool for curiosity.
I’m in need of knowledge.
And the people who possess it.
People like you.
I’m a whore of the spirits.
Your spirit and mine.
The spirit of anyone who’s lived in this world,
And wants to share their ideals.
I’ve let myself be used for good and bad.
For all others to enjoy.
Now I demand to enjoy myself.
And be a whore for my brain.
I have no more qualms of life.
I don’t fear mysteries of the human creature.
I frolic with my pod of friends,
In orgied lusts of the good.
Beneath a midnight sky or a crystal sun,
Call me as you please.
I gleefully admit,
I’m a whore.
Because I understand my true soul.
I’m in need of company,
But only to learn.
Always and forever.
I feed from that.
I must nourish from a bountiful mass of gray matter.
It’s my blood.
It’s my breath.
Shout at me, “You whore!”
And I laugh.
“Thank you, my friend!”
Because I know who I am.
One of the spirits.
Hungrier and thirstier,
For a tapestry of brilliant introspection.
Alejandro – Chiefwritingwolf.com
Poetry can be Something powerful to Ponder About