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Poetry Prompts

Monday Poetry Prompt: Ruffian

This week let’s write a poem about a ruffian. Last week, our very own JeanMarie Olivieri sent me 22 Charming Words for Nasty People. I recognized several of the terms (having been addressed as such at various points in my life) but there were still plenty on this list to add to my vocabulary so pick out one or two of your own to adopt and write a poem. Don’t be a self-smellfungus or anonymuncule and post your work in the comments below.

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is one of the organizers of Living Poetry, a collection of poets and poetry lovers in the Triangle region of North Carolina. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.

Discussion

7 thoughts on “Monday Poetry Prompt: Ruffian

  1. Hey, watch your back, friend
    you wanna be sure she’s not a backfriend
    don’t blame the demons of triviality or rum
    she has the knife in her purse, right next to her gum

    She’s demure, enticing, manipulative behind the scenes
    has been known to nest with the best for lessening
    to gain her own dreams

    Watch out for the backfriend
    she’s truly a hack friend, when
    in this life you will find her waiting on the tables
    while crunching the figures of your life
    for her own personal gain

    Ask me about those wounds
    I don’t carry a knife

    Liked by 1 person

    Posted by Lisa Tomey | September 17, 2021, 4:55 PM
  2. Mother of a Ruffian

    She had never met a genuine ruffian,
    such was her sheltered life.
    But life without story is a meager state
    so she read the books which told the tales

    Of brutal men fought and vanquished
    and believed them countervailed,
    for where were the ruffians now?

    In foreign lands, tyrannical states, in
    rogue armies and robber kings.
    Most were followed and even loved
    by their minion hirelings,
    as in ruffian loves ruffian.

    She made the bed and mopped the floor
    and remembered her home-grown ruffian
    he was 24 inches tall, still in diapers.
    Mornings he stood on the stairs
    surveying his kingdom below.

    Good morning, she murmured.
    He thought a moment
    then raised fists beside his rumpled head,
    took a fighting stance and said:
    I am a wough and tough babarwian!

    I see, she said, and scooped him up.
    Barbarians though wild and free,
    are lightweight enough when
    not yet three.

    Liked by 2 people

    Posted by ts19page | September 13, 2021, 9:10 AM

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