Poetry Monday: Spot The Little Lie

It's Poetry Monday! Join Diane, Delores, and maybe Joan (of Devon) in the comments, and me, as we tackle the subject "a story that's mostly true."

Write a poem, borrow a poem (giving credit were credit is due, of course), or just read what we have on offer. It's all good! The objective is to encourage us to write and have fun. Well, that's my objective anyway. You can leave your poem here or at Diane's or Delores's blogs, or if it's on your own blog, let us know where to find you by leaving your blog address in the comments.

"A story that's mostly true" is an intriguing topic, isn't it? I started working on it with great relish as soon as Diane posted it.

And I worked on it.

And worked. And worked. And worked.

I did come up with one title I was proud of: "If You Treat Truth Like An Elastic Band, It Could Snap Back And Hit You In The Face," but there was no poem to go with it because the title was the whole idea in a nutshell.

And then I wrote one extremely awkward, opaque poem with no rhythm or rhyme and only a little reason, comparing the different lies we tell with the different colours in a box of crayons, starting with "little white lie" and progressing through "blue lies" which is when we say we're fine but we're not really, and "green lies" which are like sour grapes "I didn't want that car/house/person anyway", and right down the line to "purple lies with glitter" which are the whoppers that anyone can spot a mile away. It might have been a fairly good idea but the execution stank.

So by Saturday evening, with only a day until my usual posting deadline, I was still struggling. It was like wrestling with a story problem in junior high math class. The kind I could never do because me/math/lack of logical mind. Except writing a poem is WORDS, people. I LIKE words. Me and words get along fine. Why cannot I words find to poem make??? 

Then I had to take my mom to outpatients at the hospital, and that took my mind off poetry writing. She is fine-ish, just so you all know, but I am still on high alert and will be all week, just in case. And this was just after saying on Friday that I had a week without a crisis! I should have knocked on wood. Dang.

Anyway. I decided finally to write a poem about our trip to outpatients, and ask you to guess which part is NOT true. I'm numbering the lines so you can refer to them more easily. The answer is in this post, so it IS possible to get it right. However, outlandish guesses are always welcome :)


Saturday Evening With Mom

1. I was taking a nap
2. When the phone rang
3. It was my mom
4. She wanted to go to outpatients
5. I've done this trip a few times
6. It usually takes five hours of waiting
7. This time it took three
8. The doctor wrote two prescriptions
9. We drove home to my mom's house
10. Then we drove to a drug store that was open late
11. Then we decided she should get the Rx's
12. At her own drug store the next day
13. Because her health insurance wasn't going through properly
14. And they were going to charge her up front
15. And by now she was getting agitated
16. So we drove to my mom's house again
17. And I offered to stay awhile
18. And she said she was fine
19. And I came home
20. And relaxed
21. And wrote this poem
22. And none of it rhymes


***** 

Not our doctor

Not our doctor

Not our doctor

(All pictures courtesy of Pixabay.)

*****

Wishing you as healthy and happy a week as you can manage, all things considered.

Keep your apples handy!

Update: Next week's suggested topic: a lesson from our childhood. Thanks, Diane!