These poems are drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.
131031
LADY MALADY
Autumn is the spawner
of coughs and colds,
fevers and flus.
That witch grows bold
attending her cauldron,
stirring up brews.
Why be happy with what you’ve got…
when you can have more, more, MORE?
Those lyrics from a Pinocchio presentation made such an impression on me years ago that they are firmly entrenched in my mind. Apparently, I’ve lost all related details because now I can’t find any connection online between the lyrics and Pinocchio. Did I dream this up?
Pinocchio is a cautionary tale about over-desiring and overdoing. What brought the lyrics to mind was how easy and inexpensive it is to modify photographs these days.
FUTZING? A Facebook Post…
* * *
Compelled by blue skies and still-green foliage, I took my own advice yesterday and went walking. Continue reading
After a decade of writing near-daily poems, I’m surprised at how often I’m surprised doing it. When I don’t come to the task ready with a topic, I often simply position the pencil over the paper, clear my mind, and wait for some kind of flow (words, images, or emotions). If I resist writing whatever first appears, that resistance sets up a blockage. So no matter what comes, I welcome it, even if no poem results. In every case, though, a wonderful gift arrives—an absurdity, a memory, an exploration of pain, or something else altogether.
Writing this way is akin to dreaming. It taps into normally hidden or disowned realms of consciousness. Once retrieval is made, analysis can begin. Today’s poem-writing process illustrates that adventure.
Rice… So NiceCooking rice two pounds at a time is a bountiful experience in a small household. A big potful of grains expanded to several times the original volume is a variation of the loaves-and-fishes miracle.
Dawn to dusk, it was a mix—encouraging, discouraging, the gamut. At certain times today, I questioned my learning abilities, my abilities in general, and even my self-worth.
Poetry and Learning Poems get lost. Over the years, many of mine have disappeared due to computer crashes, lost flash drives, and other kinds of accident or neglect. I steward them better now, such as by posting them online.
Rarely, a poem finds its way back to me from the void, such as when found on a scrap of paper tucked in a notebook. I’ll share one of those poems in a minute (below).
I put my mother to work again, meaning the doll that my niece Valerie made for me. Once again, she manned a small poems-for-sale booth (designed to resemble Lucy’s in the Peanuts cartoon strip). This time the booth related to an Arkansas Authors event at the Springdale Public Library.
For several hours Saturday afternoon, I promoted my writing and my poetry group, Poets Northwest. About 40 authors participated, each with table display space. It was my pleasure to share “fortune cookie” poems with visitors and fellow authors. A poem overture is a good icebreaker to further conversation.
These poems are drafts, not final versions, and may not be shared outside this website without permission. Thank you.
130928
MAZED
Every guidance
is forgotten—
are there bearings
to be gotten?