Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 186

Before I get into today’s prompt, I just wanted to mention that I’ve got a call out for submissions for the 2014 Poet’s Market. Read the submission guidelines here.

For this week’s prompt, write an operation poem. There are many types of operations. In fact, medical operations alone are so varied that a surgeon could put together a whole book of operational procedures. Then, there are military operations and more general uses of the word operation. Some might even say we have a neat poetry operation happening at Poetic Asides (and they’d be right).

Here’s my attempt at an operation poem:

“Scalpel”

For some unknown reason, my greatest fear
is needles, or the scorn of my own doctor,
or discovering I’ve caused my own health
problems, though you never pierce the surface
of my psyche, perhaps because I know
once you emerge I’ll be under the spell
of anesthetic (or I’ll be asleep
dreaming a dreamless sleep, completely out),
or maybe you cut so seamlessly through
my fears that I block you out, finding that
I’m more afraid of the eyes and the mask
than the tools they use to parse my body.

*****

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*****

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130 thoughts on “Wednesday Poetry Prompts: 186

  1. Juanita Lewison-Snyder

    bypass
    by juanita lewison-snyder

    keyboard-like scalpel
    inserts word into chamber
    poetic bypass

    doctor holds paddles
    juices the heart once more, then
    OMG haiku!

    © 2012 by Juanita Lewison-Snyder

  2. poetic license

    Did this really fast…..

    D-day,
    Ten Blade.
    smooth
    operation,
    funny bone,
    In the zone,
    A large
    Undertaking,
    A scar,
    in the making.
    Scrubbin in?

  3. tunesmiff

    In somewhat the same, if not similar vein (all pun intended…), as Bruce (if I may use your first name…)

    A song, of sorts (or out of sorts…)

    g

    ———————————
    OPERATION
    (c) 2012 – G. Smith (BMI)
    ————————————-
    Growing up as a lil’ kid,
    The games that we would play,
    When we were stuck in the house and the weather
    Was cold and wet and gray;
    Chutes and Ladders, Candyland,
    Monopoly and Clue;
    Sorry and Aggravation,
    What I liked best was Operation,
    And you know what you had to do…

    You take out the Adam’s apple,
    Take out the water on the knee;
    Take out the writer’s cramp and bread basket,
    But leave this one for me,
    My favorite part…
    Take out the broken heart…

    As I got a lil’ bit older,
    The games got older, too;
    Spin the bottle, truth or dare,
    Twister, and the fun would ensue.
    But some games didn’t have rules, it seemed,
    They were hardest on the beginner,
    And sometime there was no clear winner,
    But the loser wound up with shattered dreams…

    And you can take the butterflies from my stomach,
    Take the wish bone and funny bone, too;
    I can spare the spare ribs, I suppose,
    But the best thing you can do;
    Is take the most painful part;
    Please take my broken heart.

    Yeah, take the butterflies from my stomach;
    Take the wish bone and funny bone, too;
    I can spare the spare ribs, I suppose,
    And the best thing that you can do,
    Is take the most painful part;
    Please take,
    My broken heart.

    Just take,
    My broken heart.

    (Oh the ankle bone’s connected to the – knee bone…)

  4. foodpoet

    Open your wallet to
    Pay
    Ever higher premiums
    Rates never go down
    Again and again
    Told pre existing does not qualify, your
    Existence is optional

  5. Bruce Niedt

    I note I’m not the first one to use this metaphor, but this was fun:

    Operation Blues

    Well, baby, you’re just like a surgeon,
    you take everything outta me.
    Yeah, woman, you’re like a surgeon,
    you just take everything outta me.
    I’m like that guy in the Operation game,
    laid out in my misery.

    I get butterflies in my stomach
    when I think of how we used to be.
    Yeah, them butterflies are in my stomach,
    when I think of how we used to be.
    My belly’s tossin’ and turnin’ so bad,
    I don’t even feel the water on my knee.

    You kicked me in the bread basket, baby,
    and you hurt my funny bone.
    Yeah, you kicked me in the bread basket,
    and you done hurt my funny bone.
    I get a lump in my Adam’s Apple,
    when I think about bein’ alone.

    I got a charley horse and a wrenched ankle
    and I hurt from every part.
    Yeah, got a charley horse and wrenched ankle,
    and I just hurt from every part.
    I get writer’s cramp just from writin’
    ‘bout how you pulled out my broken heart.

    You were a shock to my system, baby,
    from my head down to my toes.
    Yeah, you were a shock to my system,
    from my head down to my toes.
    You’re such a smooth operator, but baby,
    you know, you never lit up my nose.

  6. Mike Bayles

    Bloodletting

    This I must say,
    this confession on page
    is taken from the deepest part
    of me, soul and heart.
    The first line comes easily,
    but the rest proves more difficult
    details and truths
    that must see the sun,
    something people must hear.
    something they must know.
    When the first draft is written
    a poem is born,
    and I’m proud
    as I hold it up in front of me
    and allow it to breath.
    Upon further examination,
    I discover something must change,
    a misplaced comma,
    a word or a line.
    I realize a line I love
    for its brilliance
    or the truth it portrays
    must be cut
    with great pain
    but the poem is saved,
    and the line,
    hidden in the folder
    waits for another day.

  7. Mike Bayles

    Bloodletting

    This I must say,
    this confession on page
    taken from the deepest part
    of me, soul and heart.
    The first line comes easily,
    but the rest proves more difficult
    details and truths
    that must see the sun,
    something people must hear.
    something they must know.
    When the first draft is written
    a poem is born,
    and I’m proud
    as I hold it up in front of me
    and allow it to breathe.
    Upon further examination,
    I discover something must change,
    a misplaced comma,
    a word or a line.
    I realize a line I love
    for its brilliance
    or the truth it portrays
    must be cut
    with great pain
    but the poem is saved,
    and the line,
    hidden in the folder
    waits for another day.

  8. Mike Bayles

    Bloodletting

    This I must say,
    this confession on page
    is taken from the deepest part
    of me, soul and heart.
    The first line comes easily,
    but the rest proves more difficult,
    details and truths
    that must see the sun,
    something people must hear.
    something they must know about me.
    When the first draft is written
    a poem is born,
    and I’m proud
    as I hold it up in front of me
    and allow it to breath.
    Upon further examination,
    I discover something must change,
    a misplaced comma,
    a word or a line.
    I realize a line I love
    for its brilliance
    or the truth it portrays
    must be cut
    with great pain,
    but the poem is save,
    and the line,
    hidden in the folder
    waits for another day.

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