Final poem for April 2014. Today, for I think the first time, I’ve used the prompt from the NaPoWriMo web page. Actually, it’s yesterday’s prompt as they are a day behind Australia. It gives a complex 20 step recipe for a poem e.g.:
1. Begin the poem with a metaphor.
2. Say something specific but utterly preposterous.
3. Use at least one image for each of the five senses, either in succession or scattered randomly throughout the poem.
etc.
I followed the instructions closely, and then massaged the results. For instance I relocated the poem to Cuba, which I visited about 8 years ago. The result does not necessarily make sense, but, as an experimental poem written within specified constraints, I think it’s sort of interesting. Only after finishing this draft did I find that Cohen actually went to Cuba during the Bay of Pigs invasion (read about it here) – don’t know whether that came from my subconscious or is pure coincidence.
Leonard Cohen in Cuba
Over Havana
the sun is eclipsed.
In the false dusk
the cab-drivers
are like porn stars
The street beggars yearn
for the touch of skin.
Their beds are of cardboard
scented with cheap rum
In the bars,
there is salt
on the rims
of the glasses
but the punters
can only taste collapse
and endure the complaints
of disappointed women
Leonard comes to town.
He corrects me:
“It wasn’t cardboard,
it was newspaper.
They stank of urine not rum.
and these cigars are utter tosh”
“Llame a la policía!” he shrieks
The bars are flooded
in a freak storm.
The cab-drivers go home
for dinner with their families.
On Sunday,
the ceiling collapses
from the weight of expectations.
The embassy recommends
we move to a monastery
safe from the police
and the constant
attentions of the jineteros
Leonard sneers
at his entourage.
The boss is unimpressed.
“It will end in tears” he warns
The belligerent nuns
whisper that the drunken priests
are the only ones
to be trusted
© Mike Hopkins 2014