I was a failed rock god in my prior life.
I could flatter pretty women.
But I was talking out my butt.
I'm not sure what offended the Gods?
My impropriety, my callousness or lack of anything actual resembling talent?
No doubt they think it's funny.
Crushing me with this heavy arsed lute.
While tattooing sheet music on my buns.
I fail to see the humour, I might have tooted my own horn.
Claiming credit that wasn't mine, is that really a sin?
It's true I was a joke as both a man and a musician.
However, if you think the tunes good, I will acknowledge it as my own original masterpiece.
Proudly play up audience about my struggle for my art.
Phonenix laughs last she always saw me as an arsehole.
This was the prompt that kept on giving. Oklahoma Christian University student Amelia Hamrick transcribed and recorded the music written on the derrière of a tortured soul crushed by a lut in Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights.
Today’s (optional) prompt is ekphrastic in nature – but rather particular! Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem from the point of view of one person/animal/thing from Hieronymous Bosch’s famous (and famously bizarre) triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights.