I am very uninspired today, between the rain and not feeling well and the prompt of a “self-portrait” poem. I just really, emphatically, did not care today. I barely followed the prompt. But I tried. And hey, it rhymes! The meter is very Sara Teasdale-influenced, if you aren’t familiar or couldn’t tell. She’s a favorite.

Needless to say, this has nothing to do with Idunn. That makes two so far, and we’re only on day 7. Hopefully I can get back on track tomorrow.

Poem prompt: “Today’s daily resource is the Canadian Museum of History. You can take a virtual tour, or enjoy several online exhibitions, including this one of Inuit prints from Cape Dorset.

Finally, here’s our prompt for the day – as always, optional. A few days ago, we looked at Frank O’Hara’s poem in which he explained why he was not a painter. Jane Yeh’s “Why I Am Not a Sculpture” has a similar sense of playfulness, as she both compares herself to a sculpture and uses a series of rather silly and elaborate similes, along with references to dubious historical “facts.” Today, we challenge you to write a similar kind of self-portrait poem, in which you explain why you are not a particular piece of art (a symphony, a figurine, a ballet, a sonnet), use at least one outlandish comparison, and a strange (and maybe not actually real) fact.”

Why I Am Not an Acrobat

I have a healthy love of heights;
it's falling that I fear.
I want to soar above the clouds
and land when you are near.

I could ride a hang glider,
or tied safely, parasail.
Instead, I keep both feet on the ground
and fill my holy grail.

Reality could never be
as thrilling as my dream,
so I stand beneath wisteria
and blooms become my beam.