Drinking: Something pinkish
In a fit of ambition and optimism, I’ve decided to do something terribly foolish.
See, in some circles, April is celebrated as National Poetry Month. So I’m using that as an excuse to lose my head. For the next 30 days, starting today, I’m going to write a poem. Every day. That’s 30 poems. In 30 days.
It’s really very insane.
Sometimes I don’t even write 30 poems in one year. But I feel the need to give myself an occasion to rise to, so there you have it.
They certainly won’t all be good poems, and some of them will be quite hastily written. ‘Cuz I’m not going to post a poem that I wrote last year or even last month, no, no. These will all be fresh from the oven.
So for the next 30 days, you can check this space every day and there will be something new, something fresh, something hopefully not too awful-tasting for your poetry palette. Oh, the excitment. Can you feel it?
The thought of this venture inspired the first of my 30 attempts, because I kept hearing Mr. T say that he pitied the fool. Mr. T is a very wise man…
pity the fool
with pen in hand
laboring over a poem.
pity the pen
so mangled and worn
scrabbling in vain at the page.
pity the page
soaked clear through
with the ink of unfit words.
pity the words
all desperate to please
tripping over themselves into line.
pity the line
jostled into formation
awaiting the touch of the muse.
and pity the muse
standing just out of sight
presiding over her fool.
yes, pity the fool with the pen in hand,
for there is no greater labor of love
and no bigger frustration.
-Lo, who, truth be told, is rather daunted by the task.