9.25 plaited prompts: …the emperor ate…

9.25 plaited prompts: …the emperor ate…


(Perhaps if the emperor had eaten more apples?)

‘I Speak Not, I Trace Not, I Breathe Not Thy Name’ by Lord Byron
(I’ve taking an indirect route and slightly longer than an American tanka)

a memento mori poem with these words:
trance, track, skin, emperor, popcorn, bacon

And just because it Too, Too – fits…   Q 25 T 10


a tale retold in memento mori:
…the emperor ate…

bacon was the fat
the emperor ate, popcorn
with too much butter

in a trance with his mirror;
not looking at skin sagging

lost track of his life;
sly tailors’ embarrassment –
naked to his own death

coffin closed; who was the first;
and the last mourner? the child

clear lesson here;
moderation is the key –
serve it up daily



A Month of Goodbyes #8


perhaps it was because I was kind
to leave him his space

there in the garden
under the dwindling pile

of regrets that I’d not yet
acquired more fuel to burn

my imagination for the cooler months –
and yet there is still time…

he left me a gift
that I found while bringing

myself, thoughts and the wood to the porch –
carefully stacking split logs for future use

there the whole of him, his shelled skin
from head to tail in one whole piece

without shedding a single tear…
before seasonally saying goodbye


(c) JP/davh


(with thanks to Laura Sorrells of WOWH, her blog ‘Thin Places of 6/13/11)

[…pronounce as Job the name or job the – profession either works…]

Stretched thin

Breathing thin cool air

Attempting thin, to not be seen

Though it doesn’t seem to matter

When managments’ skin is thick…