Hanover 1 800 hot poet


Ileana fascinated herself with language,
but nobody ever called her poetry hotline
so she began to practice
standing still until roots
sprouted from the souls of her feet
and anchored her to the floorboards.

Just as papery golden bark began to shroud
itself around Ileana’s delicate frame,
the phone rang.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wrote this from a picture prompt at One Stop Poetry.  Visit the link for other people’s take on the picture.  This is a poem in 55 words, including the title.

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11 thoughts on “Hanover 1 800 hot poet

  1. Fantastic response. Like the transformation you capture. It truly fits the photo. Those front bells reinforce your idea. And in 55! Cool how you also infuse the phone number in the photo. Guess you never know what is going to happen from a love of language!

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    • Thanks. It was the phone number in the photo that gave me the idea for the poem. My dad always said he found my name on the bathroom wall at the hospital when my mom was in labor. It said, “for a good time call Brenda.” My mom swears he’s lying and he just laughs.

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  2. A unique poem, Brenda. I do think sometime, in the middle of the night, there would be a call for a poetry hotline! I will have to write down the number. LOL.

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