For today’s prompt, write a control poem.


This fly got into my car
while I stopped to refuel.
I didn’t notice for miles
down the strident interstate
until he started battering
his multifaceted eyes
against the windows.

I cracked them just enough
to create a torrent of air
which ripped him back out
into the world of wind,
sun and (I hope) new bug friends.
But who would believe his tale?

There I was, minding my own business,
good home, good job, good friends,
good middle-aged life and then events
beyond my ken, swept me far far away.

I just hope there was some roadkill
nearby so he could start anew
with a full belly.

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.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Roadtrip

  1. Lisa Tomey says:

    Nice analogy.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s