Since I’m mostly writing plays these days, I’m giving myself the assignment of writing a short one every day during November, using one of my old poetry prompts, chosen at random. This is the first one. We’ll see how it goes. Sorry about the format, but I’m too lazy to do all the indentations and stuff.
Prompt 36: The Ten Rules of Poetry
Characters:
The Poet: Any gender, thin, chain-smoking, dressed in black
The Cat: Plump tiger with a slow voice
Setting: Small room, a desk covered in papers center. Crumpled papers all over the floor. An overstuffed chair, right, where the cat sprawls throughout.
Time: The present. Late afternoon.
At Rise: The poet is seated at the desk, writing furiously by hand while the cat sits, watching its face. The poet crumples the paper and throws it on the floor.
POET
Damn, damn, damn and blast. There’s nothing here. Nothing at all. Nothing in my head, nothing in the world, nothing anywhere. I’m finished. I’m empty. I can’t write another damned thing. I’ve had it with poetry. I’m going to go get a real job as a, a, a counter person in a fast-food place. Or a shelf-stocker. Or something real. Anything but this.
CAT
(Yawns.)
Huh. That might be a good idea. It’s the third rule of poetry, you know.
POET
What? You’re a cat! You can talk?
CAT
Sure.
POET
Why have you never spoken before?
CAT
Nothing to say.
POET
And now you have something?
CAT
Yeah.
POET
Why now?
CAT
Mostly because I’m tired of navigating over all those bits of paper you heave all over the place. And you keep forgetting to fill my water bowl
POET
Oh. Sorry.
CAT
And, I know the rules of poetry, and it’s clear that you don’t.
POET
Well, what are they?
CAT
Come here and I’ll tell you. You can’t hear me if you’re sitting at that desk.
POET
Well, okay.
(Stands and goes to chair, looks down at Cat.)
CAT
Sit!
POET
But you’re in the chair.
CAT
Then hold me on your lap. Duh.
(Poet sits and arranges Cat on lap.)
POET
There. Happy?
CAT
Yes. Much better. You may stroke me while I talk.
POET
Whatever.
CAT
Hisss.
POET
Okay, okay.
(Starts stroking Cat.)
Tell me the rules.
CAT
Don’t be in such a hurry.
POET
What?
CAT
That’s the first rule.
POET
What is?
CAT
Don’t be in such a hurry. I mean, what’s the rush? If the words are there, they’re there. If they aren’t, well. You can’t make them come by scurrying around. It’s like watching for a mouse, right? You got to wait.
POET
Okay. So what’s the second one?
CAT
Find your feet.
POET
My feet?
CAT
Yeah. Where are they?
POET
Well, on the ends of my legs, as usual.
CAT
Right. But where are they really? On the floor or just hanging there? In socks and shoes? Where are they?
POET
Huh.
(Shifts and puts feet solidly on the floor.)
There.
CAT
Better.
POET
And what’s three?
CAT
I already told you.
POET
I forgot.
CAT
Of course you did.
POET
Sorry.
CAT
It’s okay. You didn’t know where your feet were.
POET
So what is it?
CAT
Hey, remember number one!
POET
Oh yeah. Well, in your good time.
(Short pause.)
CAT
Rule number three: Do something real.
POET
Writing is real, isn’t it?
CAT
Well, it can be. But you gotta have stuff to write about. Just the stuff in your tortured head isn’t enough. Much to your surprise, it’s pretty boring to everybody but you.
POET
Oh.
CAT
Yeah.
POET
So, what should I do?
CAT
Oh, anything. Go for a walk. Bake some muffins. Water the plants. Feed the cat, empty the litter box. . .
POET
Oh. Sorry about that, too. (Shifts in the chair.) Shall I. . .?
CAT
Nah, it can wait for a few minutes. Remember rule number one.
POET
And what’s four?
CAT
Drink enough water. You don’t, you know. Coffee doesn’t count. Wine counts against you. Water. Good stuff, water. Cool and clear and pretty amazing, when you think about it.
POET
And I bet your bowl is empty.
CAT
Not entirely. But. . .
POET
Rule number one.
CAT
You got it.
POET
Okay. Water.
CAT
You ready for five?
POET
Sure.
CAT
Okay. Stand up and stretch. Like this.
(Jumps off lap and stretches)
Now you.
POET
(Stands and stretches.)
CAT
Good. Now you can sit again.
(Poet sits, Cat sits on lap.)
Now do that every twenty minutes or so.
POET
Okay.
CAT
Stroke.
POET
Okay.
(Resumes stroking.)
CAT
Now this is a hard one. Maybe the hardest.
POET
I’m ready.
CAT
Quit caring.
POET
What??
CAT
Keep stroking.
POET
Sorry. But life is all about caring. Caring about what happens, about how people feel, about the Earth and the state of the world, and .
CAT
Yeah, yeah. All that stuff that you can’t fix. You brood and brood and it’s wrecking your brain.
POET
But I can’t. .
CAT
Okay. Modification. Care about what you can fix. Feed the cat, for instance. Call your mother.
POET
Oh shit.
CAT
Well, that’s something you can do, right? You can’t fix the oil companies. You can’t fix the economy. And thinking about all that makes you crazy and if you’re crazy you’re hard and mean and besides you can’t write. So call your mother.
POET
But. .
CAT
I told you this is probably the hardest. So if you can’t, don’t sweat it. Stroke, please.
POET
Okay. Sorry.
CAT
Now an easier one.
POET
Good.
CAT
Learn to stare.
POET
What?
CAT
You know that old poem: “What is this life if full of care/We have no time to stand and stare?”
POET
Never heard of it.
CAT
Of course not. It’s an old-fashioned rhyming one. But it’s true.
POET
Stare?
CAT
Yeah. Have you ever watched me do it?
POET
You hardly ever do anything but eat and sleep.
CAT
Hissss.
POET
Sorry.
CAT
That’s the next one.
POET
What?
CAT
We’ll get to that. Now it’s rule seven. When I’m awake, I stare. A lot. Like this.
(Stares at audience for a long minute, while Poet adjusts position in order to see.)
There. Your turn.
POET
What, now?
CAT
No time like the present.
POET
Okay. Here goes.
(Stares at audience.)
CAT
Good, good. Told you it was easier. Now for rule eight. Ready?
POET
Ready.
CAT
If you’re bored, go to sleep.
POET
Sleep?
CAT
Yup. When you’re bored you try to get busy. You fiddle around and find dumb stuff to do. Play with your phone or something. Go to sleep instead.
POET
Sometimes I go for a walk.
CAT
That’s good, that’s good. At least as good as sleeping. But you get the point, I think.
POET
I guess so.
CAT
Good. Now for nine, which is related.
POET
Okay.
CAT
Read less, sing more.
POET
Sing more?
CAT
Yeah. It makes good vibrations. Like this.
(Purring hum.)
Put your hand on my back. Feel that?
POET
Yeah.
CAT
Now you do it.
POET hums, breaks into a little song.
Wow. That does feel good.
CAT
Of course. And Rule Ten is absolutely related.
POET
And it is?
CAT
Don’t forget to breathe.
POET
Ah!
CAT
You do, you know..
POET
I know.
CAT
So. What next?
POET
Well, I think I’ll get up and stretch and get a drink and fill your water bowl and clean your litter box and go for a walk. And later on, we’ll see.
CAT
That’s a start. Do you have any of those good cat treats?
POET
No. But I’ll get some.
CAT
Good. Meow.
GladErrand 