Past Tense Fruit

I revel in ignorance.

Today's Poetry Prompt: write a pantoum.

Pantoum? I cling to the low brow and say that sounds like a plantain gone bad.

Plantains?

Sorry, they pantoumed two days ago.

True Love 4-Ever

I have a billy goat in love with me.
Not a leering, old human goat.
A four-legged, fur-covered, yellow-eyed herbivore,
with lungs of iron and a will of steel.

He calls to me all day.
But sends no soft-voiced request.
Come get me, baby.
Full-bore, he bellows.

MY HEART IS BREAK-KING.

I am the source of his dinner.
From this has distilled true love.
Capital T. Capital L.
Big Red Heart.

When I stomp to his pen, determined to turn him into goat burger, he rests his head against my hip, and fetches up a sigh from the bottom of his being that swells his chest while he slowly blinks his devil eyes at me.

According to Chaucer, "Love is blynd."
But it is not deaf, I can attest.
I have a billy goat
in love with me.



Day 10