Madness is

* Edited to update: All schools are closed for the next 2 weeks in PA.  So after cleaning up the kids and getting their school clothes in the wash, I came down to visit them. My daughter works at a school, so she is off, too.  I can come and go to see them these two weeks, but I'll still mostly be upstairs.

I've hobbled upstairs to the in-law apartment for staying a bit more "germ safe" until I get more mobile.  No one's been here since my fall Jan. 9, so it's kind of a safe haven for me.  I'm canceling my PT.  Most things are really buttoning up and only essential travel, etc.  The libraries in the next county - a couple of miles away - are closed for the next 2 or more weeks.  So, being in the more "at risk" groups, I'm sequestered away for a bit.  Everyone just cover your coughs and wash your hands till we get on the other side of this Madness...

Today is the last day for voting on Round 1 of Madness! Poetry... Matt, who is hosting Poetry Friday today, has a lot about the event, so I won't go into detail here...He's also got a lot of other great stuff going on, so check in at Radio, Rhythm & Rhyme.

I'm a bit behind, but pleased with my student appreciation votes!  Voting closes today between 5 and 5:30 pm so hurry on over if you haven't checked it out yet.

There are some - no LOTS - of outstanding poems this round.  If you have not gone there to vote - you must!!  I'm telling you, there is no better way to get yourself, and your classroom psyched for Poetry Month in April, than to kick off with this!

Here's my bonus poem using all 64 words in the current round of competition (it is not a competition poem - I just had time on my hands and my word started me thinking this):

A Conversation

She looked at me askance,
Her doubt so real and sure,
“Are you an apparition
Or your substance solid, pure?
Are you a cloud? Are you fog?
Are you really here?
And if you are, please tell me
Are you cause for fecund fear?”

“Do you think me unbecoming
My misshapen features daunting?
Perhaps I am a mite macabre
But I’m handsome as a haunting!
You yourself aren’t much see,
You’ve nothing much to boast
You hardly warrant wrested time
I’m so aghast,” said ghost.
“May I be frank about your flaws
So many come to mind;
festooned with hair and clothing
Your skin like orange rind -
You really lack a luster
Your gait is not as spry
For mine is windswept, exuberant
And you will never fly!
I’ve pigeonholed your lifestyle,
You friends are all riffraff
And if you weren’t so sad a sack
I’d be inclined to laugh.”

“So you ARE a ghost” she whispered,
Feeling just a mite hoodwinked.
“In the daytime I won’t see you
For with darkness you are linked?”

“My labile image will cease to be
Unmoored it sails away,
But you, my dear, will be cloistered here
Contented in your way!
One might think you a martyr
For cleaving to this earth
And though you are exuberant
I think you have no worth.”

“Well, that may be my trenchant friend,
But I think that you are wrong.
My repertoire is greater than
Your decrepit little song -
Gamboling on the earth at night
Submerged in dankest places
Bearing overtures so sad and slouched,
Conspiring in their faces.”

“Well fine, I’ll leave you be now
A bevy of souls awaits…
And if I swoop on over there
I might get through those gates…”

By Donna JT Smith, 03/09/2020