lillian the home poet

. . . but there’s no Singers in this house!
No sopranos, altos, or tenors either.
Only two spools of thread available here.
One cat-masticated white, the other
a forty-six year old neon orange –
from a pumpkin project
for a Montessori kid.

You wore spectacles, Ben,
so you must know.
Your sage advice here
requires at least one eye.
Needless to say, that needle’s slit
and my cataracted two?
Not exactly a winning bet.

So what nine and what time?
Nearing the end of mine,
I’ve resolutely decided
to wear my holey socks.
Instead, I offer you this adage:
A glass of wine at any time
may alleviate your need to whine.

Written for NAPOWRIMO Day 7 where today the prompt is to “write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying. They say that ‘all cats are black at midnight,’ but really? Surely some of them remain striped. And maybe there is an ill wind that blows some good. Perhaps that wind just has some mild dyspepsia.  Whatever phrase you pick, I hope you have fun complicating its simplicity.”

*** By way of explanation: Singers is in reference to the popular brand of sewing machines and Ben Franklin popularized this phrase in his Poor Richard’s Almanac.

Image from Pixabay.com