Something about me and poetry on the weekend just isn't working out. Ideally I have more time and therefore should want to write more, but it seems without some kind of pressure (say falling 3 poems behind for instance) my poetry just doesn't want to come out. I certainly get ideas; in fact, in just this short time of writing poetry, I have begun to think more in verse. I've begun to think in fragments and in rhythms and to focus in on little things, like a french fry lying near the side walk in the road. 'What would it be to be that fry?' I think as I nearly squish the poor thing with the tip of my black heel.
At any rate, this challenge is certainly having an effect on me.
Even if I have a tendency to fall behind.
But back to the poems.
16. "Then Suddenly"
Despite the sun
the sounds of people of having fun
Despite the work waiting to be done
Despite a good night's rest
and yet completing the grading of all those tests
and though I thought I'd give my best
I find myself seduced by slumber
my eyelids heavy sheets of lumber
and me, so willing to let a nap encumber
my progress, my day
my body wrapped in shawl
just a few seconds
that will be all
that will be all
17. "The Perfect Couple"
It is amazing that peanuts and coco beans don't grow together
that the peanut, that sneaky legume
is not the root of that bitter bean
Granted, much is added to pound them
fatten them, sweeten them
into chocolate and peanut butter
But oh! When they are finished
and finally smashed together
it is such an overwhelming tasty joy
that my taste buds sigh and "awe"
as the perfect couple slides on by
Did heaven ever mate two souls so perfectly
as mother nature with the help of man
mated these two tastes?
What genius matchmaker instrumented
this fine blended pairing?
If only life were so easily balanced
as the rich smooth confection
and the nutty butter
18. "Nothing but Revision"
At first you dread revision
its nothing but work and insult
a reminder or a message that you suck
you're not good enough
real writers spew logic, clarity, and creativity
through their mouths and noses
every time they breathe
more words escape and find instant homes on the page
So, you should do that too
or go home
But after being forced
perhaps by a knowing instructor, a friendly mentor, or rigid determination
to rearrange, edit, cut, replace
you find perhaps a chunk of talent
has been displaced
But there was so much work to find it
You set out to be a writer not a carver
you set out to create worlds
not throw pick axes into structure
until a tiny jewel falls out
And this is where many despair
give up, say they don't care
Claim they're not writers
It wasn't easy, it wasn't fast
Why do they think it's magic
or a draw of luck
like a pretty face?
all art takes talent
But all art takes work
The painters layer, cover, touch up , repair
the sculptors sculpt and chisel
the dancer and the singer practice
till their toes crack and their throats go dry
and the writers
they write, revise, write, revise
deleting, rearranging, moving words and letters
It's all on a page
but feels like a plunge
a journey into an impossible maze
a twisted mental puzzle
All the quitters see in revision is the work
At first, all you see is the work
At first, it seems like extra
punishment
But revision is the art
An idea goes nowhere without something to carry it
and it needs a smooth, quick, appropriate vehicle
the author is the mechanic
who builds it, checks it, tunes it
You can't drive
just by placing your hands on the wheel
A pen in the hand
keys under fingers
an idea
just tools
Once you accept this
Once you've drowned
in the ocean of words
and struggled back to life
coughing up letters and phrases on the sandy shores of your mind
there is no turning back
At first, what you see is this work called revision
But once under that wordy water
you realize there is only writing
only art
only life
At any rate, this challenge is certainly having an effect on me.
Even if I have a tendency to fall behind.
But back to the poems.
16. "Then Suddenly"
Despite the sun
the sounds of people of having fun
Despite the work waiting to be done
Despite a good night's rest
and yet completing the grading of all those tests
and though I thought I'd give my best
I find myself seduced by slumber
my eyelids heavy sheets of lumber
and me, so willing to let a nap encumber
my progress, my day
my body wrapped in shawl
just a few seconds
that will be all
that will be all
17. "The Perfect Couple"
It is amazing that peanuts and coco beans don't grow together
that the peanut, that sneaky legume
is not the root of that bitter bean
Granted, much is added to pound them
fatten them, sweeten them
into chocolate and peanut butter
But oh! When they are finished
and finally smashed together
it is such an overwhelming tasty joy
that my taste buds sigh and "awe"
as the perfect couple slides on by
Did heaven ever mate two souls so perfectly
as mother nature with the help of man
mated these two tastes?
What genius matchmaker instrumented
this fine blended pairing?
If only life were so easily balanced
as the rich smooth confection
and the nutty butter
18. "Nothing but Revision"
At first you dread revision
its nothing but work and insult
a reminder or a message that you suck
you're not good enough
real writers spew logic, clarity, and creativity
through their mouths and noses
every time they breathe
more words escape and find instant homes on the page
So, you should do that too
or go home
But after being forced
perhaps by a knowing instructor, a friendly mentor, or rigid determination
to rearrange, edit, cut, replace
you find perhaps a chunk of talent
has been displaced
But there was so much work to find it
You set out to be a writer not a carver
you set out to create worlds
not throw pick axes into structure
until a tiny jewel falls out
And this is where many despair
give up, say they don't care
Claim they're not writers
It wasn't easy, it wasn't fast
Why do they think it's magic
or a draw of luck
like a pretty face?
all art takes talent
But all art takes work
The painters layer, cover, touch up , repair
the sculptors sculpt and chisel
the dancer and the singer practice
till their toes crack and their throats go dry
and the writers
they write, revise, write, revise
deleting, rearranging, moving words and letters
It's all on a page
but feels like a plunge
a journey into an impossible maze
a twisted mental puzzle
All the quitters see in revision is the work
At first, all you see is the work
At first, it seems like extra
punishment
But revision is the art
An idea goes nowhere without something to carry it
and it needs a smooth, quick, appropriate vehicle
the author is the mechanic
who builds it, checks it, tunes it
You can't drive
just by placing your hands on the wheel
A pen in the hand
keys under fingers
an idea
just tools
Once you accept this
Once you've drowned
in the ocean of words
and struggled back to life
coughing up letters and phrases on the sandy shores of your mind
there is no turning back
At first, what you see is this work called revision
But once under that wordy water
you realize there is only writing
only art
only life
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