Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Migraine (NaPoWriMo Day 8--late)

No thing with feathers
Perches here, thank God

I wouldn’t have strength
For a that tune never stops

No—tonight those Boots of Lead
Are back, and I am wrecked solitary again.

If I could learn to make
That plank in reason finally break

I would be finished
and I wouldn’t care

If I ended knowing or not
Here—or Then—Or There

I didn't get this up in time because battled a tension migraine all night.  Yesterday's NaPoWriMo prompt invited us to rewrite a famous poem and make it our own.  I chose Emily Dickinson's "'Hope' is the thing with feathers"  and "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain" to help me handle the pain.

Image: Picasso's "Head of a Woman"

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