#384: Poem on April 10, 2021

I’ve developed a couple of new habits this April for National Poetry Writing Month. Mostly, with only one exception, I’ve been writing little preambles, you know, introductory remarks, before each day’s poem. I’m introducing the prompt I followed, or explaining why I ignored the prompt, or how I manipulated the prompt toward my own devices. And sometimes, I don’t know, it’s like clearing the throat, I just need to ramble a little bit about this or that, whether there’s any connection to the poem I’ve written or am about to write or not. The other new habit I’ve developed is that I’m not giving my poems titles, instead, I’m just marking them by the date they were written for Napowrimo. I love titles, so that’s an unusual move for me. I don’t know exactly why I’m doing it, but, like a lot of habits, good or bad, I’m going to keep doing it. For continuity’s sake. Yeah, that’s it. Without further ado, inspired a little by today’s prompt on the Napowrimo website, here’s a list of things in my junk drawer to be sung to the tune of “Do You Realize” by The Flaming Lips. Speaking of titles, “Junk Drawer.” That’s a pretty good one. It’d also make a good name for a band. There’s a poet out there, I forget his name, who wrote several poems, or maybe one long one, that consisted of nothing but ideas he had for band names. Pretty great. Okay, everybody sing along. “Do You Realize.”

Poem on April 10

One, two, three, four–

Do you need this?
These two sunglass pairs you never wear?
Do you need this?
I think that thing’s a glue gun there.

Do you need this?
That Wild Roots distillery patch?
Do you need this?
That mini-plug to RCA adaptor?
And instead of saving all of those earbuds
You could throw them out into the curbside trash.
It’s hard to know when you used them last.
You realize this drawer won’t empty itself;
It’s just another thing you probably will never do.

Do you need this?
Ah-ah-ah!

Do you need this?
Those two service pins you got for years of work?
And instead of wearing them proudly on your shirt,
you could toss them into the recycling bin.
It’s hard to justify a ten-year service pin.
You realize that switch plate has to go
but you’ll keep the pipe that was a gift from your bro.


Do you need this?
That gum ball there will never be chewed.
Do you need this?

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Filed under Introductory, Poetry

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