Funkytown Dave: A Horse Tale

Howdy! For several years, a highlight of my March has been participating in Madness! Poetry, a giant, online children's poetry tournament. Like that other March Madness, Madness! Poetry involves seeds, brackets, frequent upsets, and a glorious trophy. (I mean, I assume there's a trophy in March Madness? I'm not really athletically inclined.) 

Unlike in most basketball face-offs, many of the "authletes" in Madness! Poetry do "come here to make friends"—and I've met a bunch of lovely (and prolific!) rhymers through competing. 

Unfortunately, like many get-togethers, Madness! Poetry was called off this year. Life is just too busy! Lucky for me, a few Madness friends have been willing to exchange prompts and poems this month on an informal, noncompetitive basis. To kick off this rather unprecedented March, we tackled a prompt that harkens back to simpler (well, maybe) times:

Write a poem inspired by a word that entered the lexicon during your birth year. (I must confess, I snatched this prompt from an old Poetry Friday challenge.)

This website provided the prompt words—many of which were, well, slightly more colorful than anticipated.

I selected "one-trick pony" from my birth year, and I trotted out the poem below:

Funkytown Dave: A Horse Tale

You’ve heard of Black Beauty, of Flicka, and Scout?
Of Silver, the trusty, old steed?
Well, Dave wasn’t like all those horses. No, sir.
He was a much different breed.

You see, Dave liked to foxtrot, to disco and jive.
He could tango and waltz ‘round his stall.
But ask him to gallop—a small, simple step?
Nope, Dave couldn’t do that at all.

“It’s nothing!” his friends called. “Just pick up your hooves!”
But, poor Dave, he felt like a phony.
The fact was, he’d mastered a dozen swell tricks.
But he craved life as a plain, one-trick pony.

Nobody would ride him! There was no “giddy-up!”
No “woah, there!” or other refrains.
There were chores to accomplish on Funkytown Farm.
So, who’d want to pick up Dave’s reins?

Dave might have been traded or sold for supplies,
But the farmer had lots on her mind.
The weather was nasty, the locusts were out,
And crop sales had fallen behind.

“If I can’t earn a buck, I’m afraid we’re all through!”
Farmer wailed to the sheep and the pigs.
“I must sell all you animals off to the zoo.
I hope you enjoy your new digs.”

And things might have been over, finito, kaput—
All the animals sent on their way.
If a colorful ad in The Funkytown News
Hadn’t caught Dave’s attention one day.

“WHO’S FUNKY? WHO’S FEISTY? WHO’S DOWN WITH THE BEAT?
WE’RE BETTING THAT MAYBE IT’S YOU!
‘HORSES GOT TALENT’: TAPING HERE SOON
AUDITIONS ON TUESDAY AT 2!”

“Should I try it?” Dave wondered. “Well, why the heck not?
I’m savvy and snazzy and smart.”
So, Dave grabbed a pencil to jot the address.
(He could write. Did I mention that part?)

Did Dave make the cut? Are you kidding? Of course!
All the judges had stars in their eyes.
Dave’s two-step not only put him in the show,
It won him the awesome CASH PRIZE.

Yes, Dave saved the farm! But he didn’t stay put.
He decided to shoot for the moon.
He now lives in Vegas, heading up the marquees
And making the neigh-sayers swoon.