I ripped another page from the calendar hanging on my kitchen wall. We enter the month of May with thoughts of Spring swimming around in our heads. The sun is shining bright on the days it isn’t raining. The snow vanished into distant memory. This month I plan to explore a poetry style that reminds me of a trickling waterfall. Udit Bhatia created the Cascade poem. There are no rules for rhythm or meter. The layout is simple in that the lines of the first stanza are repeated as the refrain lines in the stanzas that follow. The poem flows like this ABC, xxA, xxB xxC. Add lines to the poem longer. Thus, you are making a cascading effect with words. How hard can that be? This Cascade Poem I titled The Organ Grinder Monkey.
Note: I will also be adding Black Out Poems as we go along the way. I plan to keep using this style until the book I’m using runs out of pages for me to play with to create these unique and visual poems. I might as well get started. I’m excited about jogging down this road.
The Organ Grinder Monkey
The Organ Grinder Monkey I forgot about the organ grinder monkey Before the ferocious bitter bite on the hand Teeth and the stitches leaving a purple scar The experience happened so long ago Her distant memory surfaced out of thin air A question on a blog post was the key If you want to fully understand Rooster and I were young and stupid We needed years to truly grow I forgot about the organ grinder monkey The trade was unpredicted and unplanned The suggestion was trifling and bazaar Rooster thought he was making a great deal But there were a few things he didn’t know Before the ferocious bitter bite on the hand He brought the primate home in the car Missy from the first considered me a foe It was due to my black hair, you see Her former family gave her a scare Teeth and stitches leaving a purple scar She sat down friendly just for show She cocked her head a pet to demand Once I had let down my realistic guard Teeth plunged into my flesh, hard The experience happened so long ago The injury created a deep tear And red blood began to flow We could no longer live in harmony The organ grinder monkey had to go Her distant memory surfaced out of thin air
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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