“Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying. They say that “all cats are black at midnight,” but really? Surely some of them remain striped. And maybe there is an ill wind that blows some good. Perhaps that wind just has some mild dyspepsia. Whatever phrase you pick, I hope you have fun complicating its simplicity. Happy writing!”
The prompt today was the perfect opportunity to use the phrase that had confused me as a child. Here’s my poem for today. Happy Reading!
"A rolling stone gathers no moss," the teacher said, peering at me through her bi-focal glass, that stood precariously at the tip of her serpentine nose I froze Annoyed- that would be putting it mild She looked like she was in a frenzy, her eyes, black and wild I held my silence, this was power at play The defining moment- that invited a detention at the end of the day! "What do you think this is?" she said, waving my assignment in the air I worried the staple pin would get stuck in her hair "Go back and do it once more!" she bared her teeth And I scurried to my seat, my legs trembling beneath Back at my desk, back bent over my book, too scared to lift my head and look I pondered upon what she had said, in my little head. 'How can moss be good?' I wondered, at a loss. Better roll. Who wants to gather moss- Dense, damp, green clumps growing out of nowhere It grew on my hands and spread to my legs, my back, everywhere I couldn't breathe. 'Stop!' I screamed, jumping up from my seat. I saw her seethe. I'd rather be dead, I mused. Her face was red. "What do you think you're doing?" she spit fire. "The consequence of your behavior will be dire! I nodded meekly. Was there a way to disappear? She added. "It's detention for you, do you hear?" Today, tomorrow, the entire year!" Copyright@smithavishwanathsblog.com. All Rights Reserved.
Eúnoia 
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