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So far this month I have met every challenge with some type of poem even if yesterday’s free verse poem probably had Robert Frost turning over in his grave. He is quoted as saying, “writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.”

Today’s prompt calls for writing a “Nobody Knows” poem. Regular readers of my blog know that I write from my gut, and wear my heart on my sleeve at the same time, if you will pardon the cliché. For me, I feel it’s important to make myself vulnerable, to aspire to as much authenticity as ego and fear will allow. I believe there is growth in that, as a poet and as a human being.

It’s not too late to submit your entry, your contribution to the body of work commemorating National Poetry Month for 2015. Just mosey (that’s Texan for navigate) on over to Robert Lee Brewer’s blog, Poetic Asides, here for day 29, and paste your poem in the comments box. It doesn’t even have to be in response to the prompt. I hope to read you there.

Here is my attempt at a Nobody Knows poem. (A true story by the way).

The Fire That Time

We were playing in the meadow one day,
my friend and I in this wide open lot.
Playing with matches in dry summer grass,
Just me and my friend, whose name I forgot.

It was windy that day on Knollwood Drive.
We needed a windbreak to get things lit.
So, the Billboard wasn’t the best choice, but …
I was just seven, but screamed, “Holy shit!”

I ran to the house to fetch some water,
“Jack and Jill” playing loudly in my head.
I asked my sister, Hmmm, do you smell smoke?”
If she suspected I knew I was dead.

From there to Knollwood Beach the smoke was seen.
quite the commotion in small Old Saybrook.
Fire contained, and no one was hurt, thank God.
They lined us up with my suspicious look.

With the riot act and a stern warning,
they let us all go Scot free of this mess.
I never told a soul, nor my sister.
This is one heck of a way to confess.

M. Zane McClellan

Copyright 2015
All rights reserved

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