Elliot: The Poet King
Pink-haired street poet
last lion on the block to be picked
to prove that his rhyme is as big as his roar
that his appetite for words is not to be feared
as he shouts from his corner, “People,
your war is more uncivilized than the jungle!”
The following was written from the Sunday Scribblings prompt, “eccentric.” ~ I’m so eccentric that I just spent an hour writing a forty-eight word poem about a pink lion when I wanted to be cleaning my kitchen or doing my Sunday Scribble. 
My pink lion is a poet named Elliot who was up for adoption HERE. I named him “Elliot” after a one time member of my writer’s workshop, also a poet, who died a couple of years ago.
Elliot, the man, was a bit of a curmudgeon who walked hunched over with a cane and lived on a monthly disability check. Some people thought of him as eccentric. He wore a purple beret and liked to stick a flower behind his ear. The floor of his car was covered with pistachio nut shells. He collected things – t-shirts, ink pens, plastic bags, magazines – to the point of hoarding. His poetry was raw, sometimes disturbing, and worthy of publication. He hated what was happening in Iraq.
Occasionally Elliot posed for The Floyd Figures Art Group to earn a little pocket money. One of the last times he sat for them, the artists decked him out in kingly attire; a royal robe, a crown on top of his long mane of hair, his cane took on the look of a staff, his long beard gave him a renaissance air.
After he died, our Writer’s Circle held a memorial spoken word night at the Café Del Sol for him. Sketches and paintings of him, done by the Figures Group, were scattered throughout the café. One lion-like image of Elliot, titled “Poet King,” sat prominently on an easel by the poet’s mic.
At the Shameless Lions Writing Circle where adoptions were taking place, I was hoping to find a lion with a purple beret like the one that Elliot wore, but there was only one lion left out of forty-eight of them, and it was pink. At first, I wasn’t impressed, but I felt sympathetic to the fact that he was the last lion waiting to be picked, and soon I was feeling a bond.
But I had to write a forty-eight word tribute in order to be eligible for my lion. While I was composing the above poem for the last lion waiting on adoption somebody claimed him. His new owner named him Johnny Cash.
Should I ask for visitation?
Post Note: I guess I scribbled after all. Update: The follow-up to this post is HERE.
June 16th, 2007 11:30 am
(o)
June 16th, 2007 1:35 pm
A friend tried to get me to take that last lion (I didn’t know he was pink!), but I’m too swamped.
Have fun with it; hopefully, I’ll be lurking!
Michele sent me. Neat that she knew this connection.
June 16th, 2007 5:19 pm
Hi, would you please pass this note along to Elliot? I invite him to come visit me on my new blog, Literary Lion of Lyon. He would probably recognize me from the blog’s title, but tell him Roary sent the invitation. Thanks.
By the way, Elliot may be a pink-haired street poet, but he certainly has his facts straight: “People, your war is more uncivilized than a jungle!” Amen, Elliot!
Roary ^..^
June 16th, 2007 6:37 pm
Thank you for sharing this scribble. Characters such as Elliot give me hope for humanity.
June 16th, 2007 7:20 pm
I am so sorry you didn’t get that pink lion… visitation rights are in order by all means!
June 17th, 2007 2:01 am
Hi Colleen!
I liked your story about Elliot. Good writing!
June 17th, 2007 4:00 am
Colleeen,
I may have some good news, if you’re still interested. Maybe Elliot, the late poet, really wanted you to have a lion. Something funny has just happened … someone has decided the time isn’t right for her to have a lion and so she has asked me to offer it to the person who missed out on the last one up for grabs in the writing circle … that’s you. The lion is number 11. Do check out the list of lions again and let me know if you could imagine giving lion 11 a home. Could he also be called Elliot? We would love to have you in the circle. Reading this post gave me goosebumps. Very moving. I skipped a breath when I saw it, coming over here to offer you this suddenly homeless lion. 🙂
June 17th, 2007 4:06 am
Oh my goodness. I have more goosebumps. I’ve just seen that lion 11 is ALSO PINK … and while there’s no beret, he is covered in FRENCH WORDS for the body, including HEAD!
How perfect and wild is that? !!
June 17th, 2007 9:43 am
what a lovely lion… and project!
sorry you were to late. definately ask for visitation right 😉
June 17th, 2007 11:00 am
Another pink lion? Go for it, Colleen, but still ask for visitation rights to the other one as well. I just noticed Roary has been here ahead of me. He appears to be visiting all his lion friends and inviting them over for a visit. One thing I have learned about Roary, since he moved in with me, is that he is a very sociable sort of fellow. Join the shameless lions, Colleen, we need you there.
June 17th, 2007 11:33 am
ahhhh, sorry you weren’t able to take “Elliot” home but I’m glad he inspired you to write poetry and this post. 🙂
Susan
June 17th, 2007 12:50 pm
Seamus, If the lion is pink I think it was made to be. I’ll come on over and sign the paperwork. The poem still holds. Elliot wanted as street corner to shout from.
Bonnie, I’m sure Roary and Elliot will be fast friends, both being literary lions, and outspoken ones at that.
June 17th, 2007 12:51 pm
What a fascinating poem, post and string of comments. What a pleasureable way for me to spend Sunday morning.
June 17th, 2007 5:34 pm
It’s official! Seamus has changed the list, which now shows YOU, Colleen, as the new owner of #11. This is great! Welcome to the pride, Colleen and Elliot!
~~~ Bonnie and Roary ^..^
June 17th, 2007 6:43 pm
Hey, I scribbled too!
June 17th, 2007 8:41 pm
How fabulous that you now have lion #11! I checked him out and I think a beret would be very becoming on him.
June 17th, 2007 11:55 pm
I lovelovelove your poem. And I’m glad that your new lion is so handsome and pink.