Wednesday, April 9, 2025

The Buzzard: Day 9

Little Alex screamed shrill when he saw the bird
Crouched over some dead thing
On our way back from the woods, he said he always liked cardinals
The petite ruby-red ones with a song to sing

I guess brave Alex's steel stomach couldn't handle the turkey vulture
I can't blame him, in a way
Seeing its bloodshot orange head
The patchy gray fuzz like a moldy toup
ée

Buzzards don't sing or make your heart flutter
These scavengers hiss like a valve left open and make your stomach churn
Like maybe after they polish off this roadkill
It'll be your turn

I couldn't take my eyes off this carnivore
Its hollowed nose like a fleshless skull and the beak of raw bone
Black glossy feathers like an oil slick
The way it took apart meat like acetone

There was an undaunted duty in his inky marble eyes
The knowledge that someone must do this dirty chore
His name was Cathartes aura (that means "purifying breeze")
And I saw grace in this disgusting eyesore

Prompt: "Here’s our optional prompt for the day. Like music, poetry offers us a way to play with and experience sound. This can be through meter, rhyme, varying line lengths, assonance, alliteration, and other techniques that call attention not just to the meaning of words, but the way they echo and resonate against each other. For a look at some of these sound devices in action, read Robert Hillyer’s poem, Fog. It uses both rhyme and uneven line lengths to create a slow, off-kilter rhythm that heightens the poem’s overall ominousness. Today we’d like to challenge you to try writing a poem of your own that uses rhyme, but without adhering to specific line lengths. For extra credit, reference a very specific sound, like the buoy in Hillyer’s poem."

No comments:

Post a Comment