Water is but a Mirror

Day 21 Of NaPoWriMo 2018.

Narcissus, listen to what I say: “do not be so proud of your beauty”
Spring will turn to summer, time will wilt, and enshroud your beauty.

Your beautiful corona and six, silky yellow petals, reflect in me
But, hear that thunder, it won’t be long till the storm, clouds your beauty.

Listen to me, the one who mirrors your visage and your soul, don’t spurn
Echo and her repeating voice, beware of losing your endowed beauty.

How do you mistake that, what you see in me is not the real reflection of you,
Now you see how the curse fell on you and plowed over your beauty.

Narcissus, don’t lose your will to live, quit admiring your own beauty
Do not confuse what’s a ‘Mirage’ and wear a shroud over your (real) beauty.

Notes:
Today’s prompt was to write a poem based on the myth of Narcissus. I had written a ghazal on this myth, during NaPoWriMo 2016. Penned a ghazal thinking from water’s point of view –  chiding Narcissus.

The prompt was:

And now for our (optional) prompt. In her interview, Brim provides us with several suggestions for generative writing exercises, and we’d like to challenge to today to tackle her third one, which is based in the myth of Narcissus. After reading the myth, try writing a poem that plays with the myth in some way. For example, you could imagine that imagine the water is speaking to you, the narcissus flower. Or you could write a poem in which the narcissus berates the Kardashians for stealing their neurosis. Or a poem that comments on the narcissism of our time, i.e. beauty and body obsession, etc.

At Last

Day 8 Of NaPoWriMo 2018. 

At the diner, on the jukebox, Etta James belts out ‘at last’
Let’s enjoy the burgers and fries and end our silly little bout, at last.

O fair apsara – Urvashi, I am Pururavas, the warrior, your rescuer
State your demands and I’ll agree and let our love sprout, at last.

The masters of the universe, the big boys of free market, the banksters
are made whole, only because of big government bailout, at last.

I remember, that the picnic in the meadow full of swinging wildflowers,
And where stole a kiss, despite your hesitation and doubt, at last.

My professed sentiments you must believe, they are real and not a ‘Mirage’,
Now let’s see that radiant smile breakout, through that sulky pout, at last.

Notes:
Off prompt again today, except from one mythological reference in couplet two, which references the mythology of Urvashi, an apsara (or a nymph) in Indra’s court and Puraravas, a mortal.

But, here is the prompt for today:

Let’s take a leaf from Shelley’s book, and write poems in which mysterious and magical things occur. Your poem could take the form of a spell, for example, or simply describe an event that can’t be understood literally. Feel free to incorporate crystal balls, fauns, lightning storms, or whatever seems fierce and free and strange. Poetry is like that (at least when you’ve been reading Shelley!) If you’re in search of inspiration, maybe you’ll find it in this poem by Louis Untermeyer, or this one by Kathleen Graber.