Day 8 Ghazal Comedy

Thanks to Na/GloPoWriMo’s prompt for today:

“Now try writing your own ghazal that takes the form of a love song – however you want to define that. Observe the conventions of the repeated word, including your own name (or a reference to yourself) and having the stanzas present independent thoughts along a single theme – a meditation, not a story.”

Just to complete the form feels like such an accomplishment. I’ll need to set it aside for a few months and then see if it’s a poem.  

(My last name is easy to incorporate into the last couplet.)

Ghazal comedy

Babies, like hyenas, are not always laughing.

Great nephew dances to keep little brother laughing.

Level medics raft us through Covid pandemic panic;

they stay the course when no one is laughing.

We’re primates; we pick bugs out of each other’s

computers; we bond through group laughing.

Elation, timing and delivery apply to stand up

and babies. If not crying, mom’s laughing.

Let’s hear the one where the farmer says,

“that isn’t mud on your boots.” Keep us laughing.