A Poet’s Week of Poetry

Taken on my walk this morning. Prickly pears are ripe. Edible, but buy in store and use leather gloves to prepare.

A week of poetry

I listened to the Frank Sinatra Radio station on Pandora during my walk this morning. Good music that makes me appreciate why so many cringed as the rock and roll era dawned. Enjoyed it, but I’ll be back to Thumbprint tomorrow morning.

So, Friday is my birthday. Question: when you become older than older-‘n-dirt, how old are you? I have arteriosclerosis (crummy circulation), heart disease and an effed-up aortic valve, and now I’m looking at “radical” surgery on my left forearm to ensure all the cancer is gone. Oh, and I drink too much wine (beer, coffee). Every day I’m gladder to be alive than I was the day before. Yer only dead once. That can wait. Right?

In ‘honor’ of the year I will spend transitioning into the mid-seventies (proud baby boomer), I plan to post at least one poem each day this week and two on Friday (B-day). These are quick little ditties done in less than 15 minutes each and tweaked very little. Some are exactly as first written. Here’s why…

I’ve read (in On Writing and others) that all first drafts are shit. I agree when it’s prose. I have written good enough poems then tweaked them to death trying to make them better (perfection?) and ended up letting them ride the hard drive for eternity.

Last year I posted a poem about my frustration with my poetry (click here to read it). I never know about my poems, so I often overwork them (not the first time in my life I worked harder than I needed to). I’m currently working on some that I’ve knocked around for over a year. Sometimes it’s cuz my muse got another call and failed to get back to me. Sometimes, I end up with something I like. Sometimes I’m skeptical, but you like it. Go figure?

So, if you read my poems this week, know that they are sunny-side-up or only tweaked to over-easy. They’re a little raw, but thankfully brief. Happy Sunday. The first poem:

Tanka Poem – A Feather

How life passes by
We see, as we feel the breeze
so like the feather
life moves us from here to there
how we love and how we care.

Bill Reynolds – 7/21/2018

Look both ways, wander often, wonder always. Mind the gaps and respect the abyss.

 

6 thoughts on “A Poet’s Week of Poetry

  1. I do envy your access to the prickly pear. I do enjoy writing poetry as well, but save that for another spot. I read this and thought, ” well, that Bill must be a pretty nice guy”. Then I read the one in the link and remember that I always give people the benefit of the doubt. Lol. You have a multi-faceted ability to capture many genres. Lol. Nice work Bill

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  2. I’m impressed! A poem every day – wow! And here I am working on a blog about nothing…nada, the big yawn – stay tuned, but don’t wait up! Muses are fickle, are they not? Happy birthday week, Bill. I’m looking forward to reading your little ditties 🙂

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  3. Well if you’ve got poems to write, I reckon there’s plenty of life left in ya. I know people in their 40s with more ailments than you’ve got, and they’re not even writing. Not even pluviophiles…
    Real music is important. Rock and roll is here to stay, but real music is important.

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