Monday, December 4, 2017

the art of losing: MyPoPerDayMo 6

Let's lighten things up a little here...
and at this point I think I will move my therapy-through-poetry to a slightly more private place.  Please visit if you want to continue wallowing in grief with me.

Dec. 4
Spelling Bee, 1975

My worst year ever, holed up in the central library hoping for a safe place in the new "open school."
The one thing I knew would go well was the spelling bee, held in one of the "classrooms" of
"Delta House."  (Of course all my friends from 5th grade were in Alpha House.)
I easily won the school competition, nonstop reader with a photographic
memory for orthography, and moved on to the city level contest.
So excited: my forte, my moment, my time to shine past
buck teeth & lank hair. The word was POTABLE, and
even if I had asked for the meaning I would have
spelled it PODIBLE, because what kind of a
word is POTABLE? and clearly the
announcer had pronounced
it with the laziness of yer
typical American.
ELIMINATED
was the word
they used.

SHAME
was the heat
I felt.

draft HM 12.17


Yep, that really lightened things up.

2 comments:

  1. No one ever said catharsis was going to be fun!!

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  2. Your poem affected life?! Yes, you can share your lovely poem and its great "after story" with the world... Submit now https://www.LifePoemsProject.com

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