Poetry Challenge Day 170 (Wed Mar 23)
People dying in Afganistan
didn’t bother me
nearly as much
as people dying in Ukraine.
There probably is something
wrong with me.
I shouldn’t be making
any distinction.
I’m not only angry that we are
still living in a world wracked by violence,
I’m angry with myself for not caring enough
to do something about it.
Poetry Challenge Day 169 (Tue Mar 22)
There are two types of people in the world:
Those that can write,
Those that can paint,
And those that can play music…
Poetry Challenge Day 168 (Mon Mar 21)
It just dawned on me
what my poetry is…
It’s prose in short lines.
One hundred and sixty-eight days,
I’m coming to the realization,
none of this is poetry.
Perhaps I should end this project
before I subject you
to any more self-delusions.
There’s another self-delusion,
I have to stop telling myself
there are readers.
I looked it up, the correct spelling of dammit is indeed “dammit.” I don’t actually think that putting this project on the Internet should, by definition, lead to a readership. So there is no confusion, the purpose here is personal, one designed to help me grow as a human, not to help anyone else grow. If that makes sense.
Poetry Challenge Day 167 (Sun Mar 20)
I’ve never been good at concentrating.
If there is anything
going on around me,
it captures my attention fully.
That makes it hard to focus
unless I am completely alone.
Most of this project
has been written when I’ve been alone.
But I would not want to live there.
If I could write with you
by my side,
that would be wonderful.
Poetry Challenge Day 166 (Sat Mar 19)
I don’t now how to rhyme, so I’m going to have a go at Haiku. This is from my “Water and Frog” poem (Day 147).
Here at the river,
I search for signs of a frog.
None appear to me.
Journal Entry ( a bit later Fri Mar 18, 2022)
“Be nice. (The world is a small town.)”
— Austin Kleon
Putin is learning this lesson the hard way…
I don’t mean to make light of current events, but sometimes looking at them in a simplistic way can reveal true insight…
Journal Entry (Fri Mar 18, 2022)
It has become apparent to me why I love writing by hand in my journal. You could almost call it a blinding flash of insight (without the blinding part). The reason is because it is such an analog process. It engages my brain through my hands. It is a tactile business, and that is so necessary for creativity - or at least for giving me the feeling that I’m engaged in a creative effort. I gleaned this insight reading Austin Kleon. I recommend picking up his book “Steal like an Artist.” One of his mantras is “engage your brain through your hands.” It makes perfect sense. I now know why hand writing feels so good, even when the words produced are largely crap.
Poetry Challenge Day 165 (Fri Mar 18)
Poetry belongs to everyone.
I like to make mine
accessible to everyone.
Of course,
I have no choice.
I find myself only capable
of writing about simple things
in simple ways.
I guess you would say
abstraction is not my thing
(apology I’m good at).
I read a poem about a frog
that had a conversation with water.
(I’m probably being unfair to the author)
This may in fact have actually occurred,
on some level, it is entirely possible.
But I find the concept
a bit hard to grasp.
Please understand,
I’m not ruling out the possibility.
I know what you are thinking… I’ll never be a poet because I’m way too literal. I suppose you have a point. See Day 147 for my attempt to escape the bonds of no imagination.
Journal Entry (Thu Mar 16, 2022)
So, someone I haven’t associated with in-person for a few year posts a photo on Instagram of two ducks in a drainage pond. The caption to the photo is something like, “where do these ducks come from?” Don’t ask me why I’m still following this person when we no longer associate personally… I suppose it is for moments like these…
I can’t resist the temptation to reply, so I do, with the following:
“If I were a diving duck, and the pond where whiskey, I would dive to the bottom and never come up.”
Crickets…
Props to Taj Mahal. There were no crickets in the photo, at least I didn’t see any…
Journal Entry (Tue Mar 15, 2022)
Today is the Ides of March. Watch out if your name is Caesar. Actually, Caesar is more a title and not really a name per se (nobody has ever named their kid Caesar, except perhaps as a bad joke). So a word of warning is in order, if anyone calls you Caesar, be doubly cautious today. Furthermore, today is a good day to settle your debts… just in case…
in Rome, March 15 was the 74th day of the Roman Calendar year. This was the day all debts were to be settled. It also was a particularly bad day for Julius Caesar. Picnics, drinking, and revelry are also in order on this day (if you are not a Stoic).
Poetry Challenge Day 162 (Tue Mar 15)
We are all born poets.
Writing poetry is an expression
of our humanness,
of who we are as individuals.
That does not mean
we are all poets.
Sadly, few of us are
yours truly included.
But, poetry is in us.
When we read or write poetry
we are reaching for that which
is best within us all.
Not trying does not make
us less human,
but the attempt can bring
unexpected rewards.
Rewards that will make
a lasting impression
and just might (you never know)
leave you a better person.
Poetry Challenge Day 161 (Mon Mar 14)
Happy Birthday daughter.
Of all the things that could be said.
Of all the things that bring me pride.
You are at the very top of my list.
Not a day goes by
that I don’t think of you.
Perhaps you find that hard to believe,
I understand… still it’s true.
If I could give you anything in the world
I surely would (besides my love of course).
But for now, this simple poem
will have to do.
Should there be any doubt in your ming to whom I am referring, it is to all of you. I have been blessed three times, and grateful for that.
Poetry Challenge Day 160 (Sun Mar 13)
I like using coasters
(beer coasters to be precise)
as book markers.
It’s so much easier
to find your place in the book.
Just start to open the book
and the correct page
presents itself.
Since I have a large collection
of said coasters
(something which I suppose
comes from drinking
a large selection of beers)
it allows me to read
lots of books at the same time.
Poetry Challenge Day 159 (Sat Mar 12)
I am reading the biographies of Poets Laureate
on the Library of Congress website.
It’s a rather intimidating experience
reading about all these accomplishments,
especially for someone of no repute
engaged in a project like this one.
Some I have heard of (two actually)
the rest not.
I suppose to be truly educated in poetry
one would have to have
read all of these, a lifetime’s
work it would seem to me.
Each biography was accompanied
by a photo of the poet.
My favorite poet is Joseph Brodsky,
Not because I have read him,
but simply because in his bio-pic
he is only poet holding a cat.
Poetry Challenge Day 158 (Fri Mar 11)
I was chatting with my Sister.
Quite unexpectedly she
complemented my writing.
When I disagreed,
she insisted it was good.
I find that a little hard to accept.
It has nothing to do with the source,
it’s about me.
How can someone that has no idea
what they are doing,
do that something well?
When I questioned her judgement
she told me she has spent her
life encouraging talent
and she knows what she
is talking about.
That was truly one of the nicest
things anyone has ever said to me.
Still, having told me this, even coming from a place of experience, doesn’t make it true… You see Sister, I get the last word.
Poetry Challenge Day 157 (Thu Mar 10)
If you think the ”RV”
parked in my driveway
is offensive,
wait until you see
the portrait of
Bernie Sanders
hanging on my back patio.
I don’t park an RV in the driveway. The RV that I own is parked in the garage where RVs belong. However, my Toyota Tacoma is parked in the driveway, and it is one bad-ass truck, as trucks go. For the record, I do own a portrait of Bernie Sanders. I also own a portrait of Einstein and Bob Marley. And, yes, they do hang on the back patio. The point here, perhaps a bit too subtle I suppose, is the only sort of person that would find my truck offensive is the same sort that would be offended by the politics of Bernie Sanders (and perhaps his portrait as well). Also, I suspect that person would likely dislike the color of Bob Marley’s skin.
Poetry Challenge Day 156 (Wed Mar 9)
Fire is a catalyst
it provides warmth to survive
and it sustains love.
What is love without fire?
I know something of that.
Having lived without fire,
I don’t want to live without it
ever again.
Poetry Challenge Day 155 (Tue Mar 8)
There are two types of poetry.
Imaginative
and reality based.
The highest form of poetry
is that which engages
the imagination.
I am firmly embedded
in the reality based genre.
I have written one imaginative poem to-date. It wasn’t easy, and to tell you the truth (the title of the poem is “Water and Frog”) I stole the idea for the subject from a poem written by Joy Harjo. Not only was it hard to write, but in order to complete the poem, I had to sit by a stream for some time, seeking inspiration. It finally came, reluctantly I might add, after pleading with inspiration to hit me with the biggest hammer it had. Was the poem a success? Only partially. After all my efforts it turned out to be less imaginative than I had hoped it would be.
Poetry Challenge Day 154 (Mon Mar 7)
As I’m walking into the grocery store
I see people walking out with flowers,
two or three in fact.
I notice they are all men.
I’m not used to seeing that.
It’s a strange sight, but I manage
to dismiss it somehow.
I grab my items and go through the check-out.
Walking out, passing the floral department,
it suddenly dawns on me,
it’s Valentines Day.
That explains the the whole “men” thing.
I’m so glad I told my love
this morning that I love her
because there are no flowers
in my shopping bag.
Poetry Challenge Day 153 (Sun Mar 6)
Every day should be Sunday.
I love Sunday.
I don’t feel pressure to do anything.
I spend time contemplating my next step.
Not doing feels just as good as doing.
If I do happen to accomplish something
I take the time to admire it.
that being the case,
every day should be Sunday.
Sunday is also a good day for pancakes.
Poetry Challenge Day 152 (Sat Mar 5)
Writing a poem about death is not
something I planned to do.
Thanks to a book given to me
by a certain special someone,
it’s something I’ve actually given
some thought to recently.
But fortunately for you
(at least for now)
this is not about my
philosophy on death,
this is about my near death experience.
The other day I cancelled my Dermatology appointment.
(I did it online.)
A couple of hours later
I noticed I had a voice message.
“This is Calvin from Dermatology calling back,
it looks like you have cancer
and I wanted to see if you’d
like to make an appointment.”
My first reaction was
how the hell did he come to that conclusion?
I haven’t even been seen before,
but the voice of reason skips over the obvious
and goes straight to obscure.
Curious and a bit worried
I called back.
After waiting on hold for 20 minutes
(Thank you COVID)
I got through to a person
and explained the phone message.
The person I was talking to
assured me they would not have
left a message like that,
so naturally I read it back to her.
After discussing this for a few minutes
we came to the conclusion
that the voice message must have
used the word “cancer”
in place of the word “cancelled.”
(I’ll leave it to you to go back
and reread the message, but it does fit.)
After making some idiotic comment
about advising Calvin to slow down
and enunciate his messages more clearly,
I hung up feeling much better.
Poetry Challenge Day 151 (Fri Mar 4)
The Cortisone Cream and the Colgate
sit next to each other on the bathroom counter.
I sometimes look at them and think
“that could be a problem.”
Of course I’m way to smart
to make that mistake.
So I leave them there, intentionally,
as a sort of test, IQ test as it were,
or maybe better, an “awareness” test.
I did pretty well for awhile,
until this morning.
The rash on my hand is now minty fresh
and my teeth are feeling slightly numb.
Poetry Challenge Day 150 (Thu Mar 3)
Why not write a poem that is untitled?
What would such a poem be about?
It would have to be about nothing, or would it?
Maybe just a series of questions?
Would it give any hint of an answer?
I’ll never know until I try…
Poetry Challenge Day 149 (Wed Mar 2)
I went in for a mid-morning cup.
Never been here before.
(I had just left a skate shop
where curiosity had pulled me in.)
I met Isaac there (his real name)
a cool guy.
The shop was amazing, I will wander in
from time to time
now that I know it’s there.
Here in the coffee shop,
It’s pretty plain inside, but warm and friendly.
“16 oz. Americano, with room please.”
Experience at small bespoke coffee places
has taught me that you’re better off
specifying cup size rather than using
the Starbucks nomenclature…
The Barista pulls my Americano
into a glass tumbler with a cardboard cozy.
Amazing! I’ve never seen that before!
I am naturally skeptical
but I sit down to give it a go.
It’s a damn fine cup of coffee,
probably the best I’ve had in some time.
(I work on my todo list, a very bad habit.)
When I’m finished
(with the coffee, not the todo list)
I’m feeling proud of myself
for coming into this place.
(Two scores in a row!)
I take my cup up to the Barista
and tell him it was very good.
He smiles broadly and says
“I’m glad you liked it.”
That’s a good morning.
Poetry Challenge Day 148 (Tue Mar 1)
I know there is one person
that reads my poems.
I never expected even one.
Frankly, I’m doing this for myself.
For many reasons.
To keep my old brain engaged.
To make myself a better person
(seriously)
and to give myself a goal.
Perhaps the best reason…
just to see if a year-long challenge
can even be sustained.
To that one reader
I would just like to say,
“Thank you.”