April 10th

Updated: Apr 22

Photo by Mario Purisic on Unsplash

Day ten! I repeat, day ten of the April poem Challenge. Who would have thought I would make it so far? Definitely not me. And, to make it all better, today’s prompt is a fun one.

“The (blank) Who (blank),” where the blanks can be replaced with anything, and the end result is to become the title of the poem. Similar process as we had in day three. And, similarly, I am still not creative enough to replace the blanks, two of them this time! So, I am bringing in the creative in its randomness site:, adding because we need a verb as well. And just like last time, I will randomise five times, choosing the fifth as the final word.

And the final result is…. “The Committee Who Waste.” Not as interesting as “Follow Thing,” but we can make it work.

The Committee Who Waste

Every five to six hundred years,

you see them coming through.

Their steps are heavy with laughter

crushing the path ahead for good old-time joy.

They stop into the wild, sitting on mountains,

dipping their toes into rivers,

hunting the clouds with their breath.

They’ll stay there for full months,

waiting for the moon to shine over them,

five or six times, before they’re satisfied.

Once they’ve gathered the moonlight,

they move on to the sun.

They’ll jump around, from planet to planet,

and just like bugs, they’ll capture the light

until none remains and even the shadows cower in fear.

They will, slowly, but surely use up the air,

every inch of it, killing the plants, and animals, and you.

When it is all over, they’ll gather again,

into the wild, sitting on mountains,

with their toes in ice-cold rivers.

“The world is broken,” one’ll say.

“It is. It is,” the rest will agree.

“We have to save it,” he’ll say.

“We have. We have,” they’ll nod their huge heads.

“Next time,” he’ll say.

“Next time. Next time,” was settled.

Crushing the path ahead with their laughter

they’re gone again,

only to return in five or six hundred years.

Back to writing longer pieces. I decided that I want to write a poem that resembles a fable. I just felt like it. I enjoy creating a character for poems, in prose they work, obviously, but I always felt like a character can be more complex, or crazy, or fabulous in a poem. Everything is and should be permitted.

I really enjoy writing about characters that ruin something, willingly or not, and then they have no idea what happened. I like the irony.

As for the structure of the poem, the only notable part is the repetition, again, a technique that I find works best in this kind of story-like poem.

Hope you like this one, see you tomorrow!

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