The month of August has arrived, and I’m moving along on my quest to post a blog daily. I challenged myself to this intense post schedule. I have used the year 2021 to explore the various forms of poetry. This month I decided to write Proverbial forms of poetry. I will pick a proverb, a short common saying, and use it to create a poem in whatever direction the Muse chooses to lead me. However, you must remember we are talking about Word Daddy here. My Muse isn’t dependability or inspirational. He often leaves me high and dry when I need his help the most. Apparently, proverbials have no particular rules. I will try not to sound cliché. My next attempt at writing a Proverbial Poem, I will call my poem Faking it.
“Fake it until you make it” isn’t a proverb but an aphorism associated with Alcoholics Anonymous, although it didn’t originate with them. It appears the origin of this saying has no clear place of creation. Thus, I will call it an American Urban Proverb because we are all faking it these days.
“Fake It, until you make it”
Word Daddy says that’s what I ought to do,
“Act like you can write something,
From an interesting point of view.
You’ll be less needy.
And I can get my beauty sleep.
I’m not trying to be greedy,
But these words you want don’t come cheap.
Did I mention I want a raise?”
I shake my head and close my eyes,
“Nobody is paying for the words
You give me these days,
I thought we had a deal,
You get paid when I get paid.”
He shakes his fist,
And my head started to reel.
“You are such a drama queen,
The worst I’ve ever seen.
How do you expect to get anywhere
If all you do is gripe?
I don’t really care,
But you might get somewhere,
If you’d keep off social media,
And put your nose to the keyboard.
It’s not a good omen,
But what can I expect
When all the material they give me
Is a wimpy, wordless woman?
Keep on typing
You’ll come up with something good eventually.”
Word Daddy said before
He disappeared into a dark corner of my mind.
There are some things you should know about Word Daddy.
A bit crazy.
An arrogant, misogynistic pig
Who behaves badly.
I fired him last year,
But he still comes around here,
Asking for more money.
I have to admit
I haven’t paid him a cent,
Still, I’m sitting in this chair
Typing away at the page
Thinking life isn’t very fair
To send me a ghetto sage,
Who leaves me searching for words I don’t own.
I guess I’ll Fake it, until I make it.
Who is Molly Shea?
Molly Shea is an accomplished fictional short story writer from Indiana who writes short stories and novels about a fictional town called Tecumseh. To read more of her short stories and adventures, click here.
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