
As long ago as I could drink,
I read my poetry with light;
Walked on the river’s bank; the brink—
Out where the verses mock the night.
One I have yet to consummate:
Evening intensifies the wait.

As long ago as I could drink,
I read my poetry with light;
Walked on the river’s bank; the brink—
Out where the verses mock the night.
One I have yet to consummate:
Evening intensifies the wait.

When a mermaid and unicorn meet,
There’s a problem regarding the seat.
For there’s no sort of saddle
A mermaid can straddle.
She tends to slide off, without feet . . .
When she’s mounted and facing the East,
Barely perched on the galloping beast,
If he swerves, she’s unseated:
Dethroned and defeated;
Delight may descend to “deceased”.



Hello, world citizens! GloBoHoMo 2023 is finally here, and we hope you are feeling lyrical and ready to speak words into poetic action.
Our featured poet today is Femi Abubakar whose stunning sub-Saharan verse has been curated by First Nations poet Harrison Tsinakut-O’odla for online journal Crowflake Dancer.
Founded in 2011, Crowflake Dancer publishes quarterly e-chapbooks, reaching over 17 readers, twelve of whom chair MFA Creative Writing programs. I would also like to point out Winifred Bong-Herschowitz’ poem “Menses Room” which I found tragically relevant, and Julio MacDougal’s poem “Woke As Mansplained By Those Who Never Picked Cotton,” which is a whimsical jab at privilege, power and poverty of alliteration.
And now, our prompt, from a bin of late-70s prompts I found behind a Goodwill parking lot. It is based on the idea that poetry is the random and meaningless juxtaposition of drivel.
The form itself is loosely based on the charming medieval Portuguese Trintanéscia. (Trinta means “thirty” in Portuguese). Here’s how you do it:
Got scissors? Let’s go!
Or, as they say in Portuguese, imprestável !