Poetry Wednesday - Nick Bottom’s First Day in a New Job

Rattle’s Ekphrastic December challenge

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Good day Red Cabbage Heads,

This is a poem that I wrote for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge in December. As usual we were given the job of viewing some art and writing a poem about it. This one sparked a little whimsical joy in me and it basically wrote itself, with a little guidance from me. (Just in case any one doesn’t know, in brief. Nick Bottom is in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer’s Night Dream, he is a weaver who is turned into a donkey and has an illicit liaison with the queen of the fairies.). It’s not a ‘serious’ poem but I did enjoy writing it. Find the original pic here Here. I concentrated on the pic and sillily didn’t read the title - it’s lama not a donkey. But hey, never mind eh?

Photo by Jim on Unsplash

Nick Bottom’s First Day in a New Job

Since having been ousted from the local theatre company for 
‘constant stubborn behaviour’ and ‘unwarranted interpretive braying’,
and now his once loyal customers were fed up of finding equine hair 
woven into their cloth (causing itching in places best left unmentioned), 
Nick had been humbled into finding a job in the corporate world. 

Reluctantly pulling in a few favours Puck had put in a good word 
for him and he now found himself as an entry level data slave for a 
city company dealing in the research of local flora for its medicinal 
properties. A long way from the forest, the fairies, and her. He was 
reduced to weaving numbers instead of cloth after the incident.

Looking around on his first day, taking in his unusual surroundings,
he was pretty sure he was the firm’s first, and only, diversity hire, 
but as long as it kept the wolf from the stable door and oats in 
the manger he didn’t really mind. Puck owed him anyway after 
the ears came back, and maybe this was the place to find a cure.

Earlier that morning as he picked out his attire, his ears still 
tingling from his wife’s forgiving caresses, he opted for a simple 
suit and a contrasting tie. He wasn’t sure about the silver tie pin 
she placed there, nor the pocket square in his well fitting jacket, 
but the tie spoke of individuality and was not too conservative. 

Upon seeing the background for his obligatory staff photo his choices 
pleased him, when, unbidden, memories of Titania blushed his cheeks 
and stood his ears tall and proud obliging the photographer to step back. 
Remembrances shamefully pushed aside, he gathered himself 
and held tight onto the long longing bray threatening to escape.

That photo would hang round his neck every day and needed to speak 
less of simple lovelorn ass and more of confident corporate business-mule.

That’s all for this week, ta-ra Tx

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