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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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Day 10 - 2.5.13 Prompt for: February 5, 2013
Subject or Theme: Hats Off (any type of hat - pick one to describe vividly)
Word(s) to Include: (a color-any color)
Forbidden Word(s): hat(s)
Additional Parameters: Minimum 16 lines of descriptive poetry - not emotional - I want to see the hat so vividly it's like you have it perched upon your head (or someone's or in a window, whatever) Please include hat type in poem or title along with color (make bold, italic or in color).
Capping Me
Classic depression era newsboy cap,
worn off to the side over russet curls
tucked up loosely inside.
She wears it everywhere; has ever since her dad
gave it to her and she was having a
bad hair year. At first, it was expedient;
then it was habit, now it is her choice.
Beat up; worn in, faded coffee-colored linen.
It caps her;
an encapsulated journal of her journeys.
Clipped to the darkened brim is a faded fish hook,
the point and barb broken off –
signifying she’s hooked to her partner
not she’s into fishing: those who know; know.
Pinned to one section of the oversized profile,
eight-quarter cap is her grandfather's dented
Sheriff’s star. He died in the Detroit riots –
raid on a blind pig went south. Higher up,
toward the cloth-covered center button is
a circular metallic pin : small yellow bird perched on a guitar.
Round back, a patch made of greyed rayon:
once, black and red backstage pass – J. Geils’ ‘Centerfold.’
An emerald cloisonné dragon, wings spread,
perches above the brim just below a tiny ladybug stickpin
angled through linen and hair
to defy the wind blowing in off the river.
Sewn on the back, is an oblong patch from Dunnottar Castle
next to another from the USS Ronald Reagan, CVN 76.
Attached midway between inside edge and brim,
is a Writing.Com ‘proud supporter’ pin from 2006. Likely as not
there’s a pen scooched between brim and ear, and oft times
a small notepad tucked between cap and hair.
'Read all abo't it' gamin newsboys once cried,
hawking newspapers down on 5th. She writes
whenever the muse or thoughts gain hold. It is as much
a part of her as her greenly gold eyes behind aviator lenses
and her wide smile or beat-up leather boots.
A small American flag is pinned to a seam
next to an old English 'D' decal. On a plain part over her left eye
is traced, in green ink, a many branched tree.
No matter the season, swelter or snow,
it is her comment, it compliments hers.
She hasn't washed it in years,
fearful it would disintegrate,
Figuring it is pretty much held together
by the bits and pieces of Fyn.
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