My Poetic Year

A year of trial and error.

For me, it’s been a year of trial and error;
To try to write three poems every day
On average. And so I’ve been the preparer
Of one to five of these things, come what may.

The plan had been to stop these when the years ends;
A plan that I still have, for now I find
That words chase after me, and will not leave me;
That poetry afflicts by waking mind.

One month ago I saw this as a nuisance –
To daily convert feelings into scrawl –
But I now I find, I think that I will miss it
I might just be a writer
After all

 

= = = = =

(The idea for this post courtesy of the Daily Post’s “Daily Prompt“)

And Then

Maybe this is me.

And then maybe this is me
Just a dying leafless tree
As the winter cold sets in
Blighted and beset by sin

Sin as separation from
All that could have should have come
Yet alone here on the plain
I alone erect in pain

Pain always my mind besetting
Leaves no chance of e’er forgetting
Sole discarded cold debris
And then maybe this is me

The World of Coca-Cola

Memories of their grandfather…

Their grandfather, he worked for Coke
And he had a selection
Of Coke memorabilia that
Became his prize collection

Of red and white with green bottles
Of merry Santa Claus;
Which, seeing now, reminds them of
The childhood world
That was

 

Ravenclaw

First reading, he had to take stock of himself…

First reading, he had to take stock of himself:

He’s not the steady, industrious type
He’s not the grasping, ambitious type
And cowardice is a flaw —
But smart he was always supposed to be
And so he inferred, as he read, that was He —
He was a Ravenclaw

Then he looked again at the end of the books:

That he would be a loyal to all his friends
But he could still strive for his personal ends
And try to be brave at that —
So maybe the Ravenclaw part of He
Is good, but not all that he can be
For he is more
Than that