National Poetry Month: Day Late and a Dollar Short

As usual, another National Poetry Month
come and gone,
and I’ve written exactly nothing.

Not exactly nothing, I suppose:
a lot of work emails;
Corrective Actions for employees who
refuse to show up on time;
some Facebook posts and Tweets
displaying my amazement or frustration
with some aspect of human existence.

But nothing poetic. Nothing I could
say took something of reality and
lined it out in a way that others would
deem worthy of attention.

And that’s just it, too. Nothing worthy of attention.

I could have been more aware. Then
maybe the words would have come to me,
and also some way to breathe the breath of life
into marks on a page.

Could have, but wasn’t. And so the usual fears,
the worry that something deep within,
the old well-spring, has finally dried up. . . .

This time is different. By now
I’ve seen this enough to know
that wonder and words
will return.

They will return.


5 thoughts on “National Poetry Month: Day Late and a Dollar Short

  1. I went through a period of 6 or 7 years where I wrote nothing creative. I thought I would never write again. Then, I decided to write just one creative sentence a day. And it all came back. I told no one and expected nothing. But it came back. And it will come back for you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. you will most definitely find a way “to breathe the breath of life / into marks on a page” of that I have no fear.

    words are like sand
    more often than not they slip
    your fingers rather than
    still they are there waiting to be transformed
    one breath at a time
    one mark at a time
    filling the page with life
    maybe that is why I am so entranced
    by the hourglass.


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