The Purple Polar Bear of Knowledge

NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 27

I don’t think I understood yesterday’s prompt clearly, so I’ve gone the opposite direction today and taken everything in an abstract direction and reused a character from this year’s works that a good counsellor of mine liked. And just for once, this one has no “bearing” on reality or social comment!

Today’s prompt – write your own poem titled “The ________ of ________,”, where the first blank is a very particular kind of plant or animal, and the second blank is an abstract noun. The poem should contain at least one simile that plays on double meanings or otherwise doesn’t quite make “sense,” and describe things or beings from very different times or places as co-existing in the same space.


When the Northern Lights strike bright their luminescent sheens,
Their ridiculous reds, outrageous orange and gorgeous greens,
That twinkle in snowflake mirrors on the Tundra ground,
And the air is filled with the tenuous sound,
Of the Cuckoo’s tick-tock-clock going bong,
To the strike of its golden crocheted gong,
The only sound that rouses the rainbow closet cows,
To go put on their Christmas Cake blouses,
Pull up their four-legged moleskin tartan trousers,
And then go dilly-dally down the alley, to
Sally forth from their rented crystal houses.

Entranced on trains they low and go,
To beg, to plead, to ask a question,
Of you know who.

They has The Knowledge, they has the force
The wisdom and sexual intercourse,
Elusive the source of their might,
Marshmallow volumes feed their erudite appetite.

There is no question that they fear,
That spangled Purple Polar Bear.

On stilts made of a thousand books,
From behind Polaroid shades they look,
And laugh like trifles at the suggestion,
That they may be caught out,
By an unripe quizzical question.

In kaleidoscopic queues they stand,
The wizardly wise from the weirdest lands,
The psychedelic saints of wisdom
Carried by gurus on thrones of acumen,
Stood to attention they cast their questions.

“Why does the bladder always win?”
Asks the Kuala Lumpa Dragon King

“If a man makes mats, what does a man matter?”
Enquires the Equine Shiek of Kalamata.

“Is the well of kindness wet with laughter?”
Purr the Siamese Sultans of Addis Ababa.

Standing on the back of a lettuce tortoise,
The Bear responds with lucid purpose.
“Your mannish questions, all odd and queer,
Not a one of them brews in me fear,
I proffer you no answers too, for it is clear,
None of us, not me not you, were ever here.”

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