I spend my days with around 800 humans who are between the ages of 12 and 14, and I have raised a child who is now college-aged. I am therefore no stranger to the concept of “talking back.”
For today’s writing exercise, try writing a poem where you talk to something (or someone) who is incapable of talking back. It could be an inanimate object (like a chair or a croquet ball) or a person who you have no way of actually speaking to (a celebrity, a grade school bully). Go ahead. Let your crazy come out to play. Or get something off your chest. It will be good for you.
Here is my attempt:
The One Where I Talk to the Garden
Dandelions, you are persistent pests.
But I cannot resist the urge to butter
my chin with your golden manes.
Carrot, your unruly hair begs pruning,
but your sunset fingers need to be fed.
Dirt, you stick underneath my fingernails
like the smell of a lover. I genuflect in denim
to dig in your dark grounds.
Cauliflower, your earnest moonbrain
bobs in the greenery, emits awful genius.