Last week's prompt was to riff off of misheard lines and double meanings, or to write a poem which speaks to the "honor role."
On the state of honor in our world, Michael C. Rush's “Arete” argues a good point:
Neither predators nor prey have honor.
Nor need it to restrain their worst impulses.
What are we, that need a code to guide us?
A poem with a lot of wordplay and a lot of spunk, Christine Rhein's "Honor Role" hits the scene:
Give me an H! Give me an O
so close, that rolled-out roll
rolling away, and the honor left
misplaced, misfired, as in haywired,
the role—spot lit, hammed up,
grown rolly poly—I mean
holy cannoli—no proofreading
in my pudding, yet no honor roll
of shame, no lame, Spellcheck blame
braking badly into song, braking all
my fingers, braking me off
at the pleas—
next line
yes, please—give me a break.
Next week's prompt is to write a poem with an epigraph, either, “Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd" (Voltaire), or some variation thereof, such as “Doubt isn’t any fun, but certainty is madness.”
An optional addition is to include one of the following phrases: “professor of doubt,” “connoisseur of chaos,” or “minister of loneliness.”
Visit the American Scholar's page to read the full posts, full of clever poems and excellent literary references, and to enter your candidate for next week!