PROMPTuesday #131: Of Odes and Such

First of all, let me publicly apologize for not PROMPTly responding to your submissions last week. I plan to in the next few days. I always love what you write and want to savor and digest the posts, and not rush through and lose the flavor. (I am hosting Thanksgiving this year, and have eating things on the brain.) So…just know…that I appreciate your PROMPTuesday input and I read every word you write, even if it is a week later, and HOW DO YOU COOK A TURKEY????

 

In other news, yesterday was my 42nd birthday (in my head, I pronounced it “forty-HOLY SHIT WHEN DID MY SKIN BEGIN RESEMBLING A PLUCKED CHICKEN’S!-second”) and I received the most beautiful and amazing well wishes. Among them, this from my kindred-soul friend, Mary. And in addition to a plate of other things (like deep and lasting love) her lovely post inspired this week’s prompt, which is:

 

Write an ode to someone or something.

 

Here’s my ode to Thanksgiving:

 

Oh Thanksgiving, why do you mock?

I worry my stuffing will taste like a sock

I can’t cook worth a damn

My turkey’s a ham

And everything else is a rock

 

Fine. Not only does my Thanksgiving cooking need help, so does my Thanksgiving ode. Also, your ode need not be a crappy poem.

 

Carry on.

 

Please post your own ode in the comments or write about it on your blog and leave me the link.

 

First time to PROMPTuesday? Read a bit about it here. Want to see what’s been written in the past? Catch up on the PROMPTuesdays archive here.

 

4 thoughts on “PROMPTuesday #131: Of Odes and Such

  1. To Deb, and November Birthday Girls Everywhere.

    Do not fear the aging process. Embrace your birthday and know these truths. 1. November birthday means you will not be sweating like a pig at your birthday party (California girls-air conditioning is your friend). 2. Use the proximity of Thanksgiving to your advantage. If you’re not into a party, beg off using the upcoming holiday prep as an excuse. If you’re into prolonged celebrations, Thanksgiving gives you another day to say, “hey, it’s my birthday, yo.” (unless, like me, your birthday falls on Thanksgiving every 6-7 years. Then you’re screwed). 3. You are here because February is cold and your parents had sex to keep warm.

    Happy Birthday!

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