NaPM April 11th 2019
To set up a new thread for each day of April; First off, make sure no one else has already posted for that date. If not then copy and paste this post into a new thread and fill in the necessary information.

Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month. 

NaPM April 11th, 2019

Topic: A poem from the perspective of a famous historical figure, but can't mention whatever made them famous/noteworthy

Form: any

Line Requirement: 8 lines or more
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara 
A fucking apple? why would i use an apple?
will someone say "an apple falls..."
and make me famous. why not a shiny canon-ball?
though I'll need some silly twat to push it up
a mountain. Fuck that, I'll just use it
in a diagram, I'll do it in the style of a future
Tommy Cooper; Canon-ball, mountain,
mountain, canon-ball.
"Just like that, what, where, it's landed?"
Back to the apple,

"it's worth a shot'

or should that be

"it's worth a fall"

I'm not sure, will it have enough gravitas?
fuck em, it's worth a shot...
Miscast Mechanic

He found, above all things, the play of key
on lever, ward, and spring– a click of catch
releasing, with a sweetly sliding latch–
far greater joy than silken monarchy.

Though tickling lock with tool at practiced speed
afforded him great pleasure in his life,
he couldn’t solve the riddle of his wife
for seven years (until his pick was freed).

And finally, his mentor in that trade
of mechanism, file, and twisted key–
whom he felt he could trust implicitly–
accused him and, condemned, he died betrayed.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
For Douglas Kelley

We'll never know if that cyanide
was part of an unwritten plan
or a leftover souvenir,
but on New Years Day 1958,
its effectiveness couldn't be questioned.

Waking the type of depression
that has a hard time sleeping,
hot element burned his note-taking hand,
which probably reeked of a bourbon
only sold in America-
no wife should have to search
her dead husband's pockets for a suicide note,
no son should have to watch his father die.
Time is the best editor.

Remembering the little ones.
So many bunnies I just had to have them.
There were too many though for me.
I was so young 12? 10? But
You can see how my mind's always worked 
This way, cause all the kids wanted
Bunnies.  Haha.  So I'd show the others
My little secret, watch their envy rise.

"Do you like him?" "I love him"
"Well I can't give him up, but if you 
Want to, you can come feed whenever
You want, he doesn't have a name yet,
What do you think he should be called?"

Within a week I had 10 kids on my payroll.
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches

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