This post is for Day 10 and 11. I could NOT think of a poem for a deal, or a poem about no deal. I have decided in 2018 that posting every day is just not for me. I am also not one of those people that can churn out a poem every day. They say you should write every day, but I think “they” are people without children or people who can afford a nanny.
The prompt for Day 11 of National Poetry Month was to write a warning poem. I immediately knew what I wanted the subject to be on, but I couldn’t get my errands done and my brain in writing mode until today. So here is day 11’s poem. It is a Rispetto, the kind with 8 lines and 11 syllables in each line, it is not supposed to have end rhymes but they just kind of appeared. What do you think?
The End of Time
your grandma told you when you were a child
it’s a story so old she heard it when she
herself was but a child on her dad’s knee
It’s all over but the shouting, so we wait
for when the angels blow that trumpet and shout
we will all rise up and the dead will come out
Jesus came once and is coming back again
when heaven is built, He will call us all home