Daily Poem - Week 1

For the time being, and until I get distracted by something else or this challenge is no longer both challenging and fun, I'm trying to write a short poem every day. I'm being patient with myself, not demanding that every line be written, re-worded, and written again until it satisfies me perfectly. But, at the same time, I'm not just sloppily putting down whatever comes into my head with no revision whatsoever. I realize that I'm walking a fine line here, and at some point I'll probably fall to one side or the other. If I stop enjoying this, I'll stop doing it. I wasn't sure at first if I wanted to share these poems on the blog, but in the end I decided to go for it, since these may be the only new content you'll see all week. 

October 17, 2012
Brown-and-yellow day
Of middle-fall -
My mood;
The earth-rich brown
Of industry
(To match my new-dyed skirt).
Some coffee, tea,
A stroll through
Breezy woods
Of rusted yellow.
A day of sunless rain,
Yet mellow
With peace of work,
Enjoyed.
And now I sit,
By sinking candlelight
To write these lines
And wait
For golden sickle Moon
To climb the night.

October 18, 2012
Today is the day
Of warm, chilly weather -
Sunshine and breezes
Dancing together.
Swirling transition -
Summer to winter.
Great indecision -
T-shirt or sweater?

I must have been on a roll, because I also wrote the following fragment:

Autumn time is here,
Laughing out at me.
So I wear red and brown
(Pretend that I'm a tree).

And, even though I didn't go to work today, I was thinking about it. So...

Work today -
The first time in awhile.
I rise to greet the darkness
With a smile.

I missed the 19th. I cleaned house and went camping on the same day (!!!!), so I'll pretend that my extreme busyness was a valid excuse for not writing.

October 20, 2012
Train whistles,
Owl hoots,
Coyote yammers -
Local nightlife
All around
As I shiver
In my double sleeping-bag.
Chopper rumbles,
Dog barks,
Rooster crows,
4 a.m. ... I give up!
Sleep is frozen
Utterly, completely,
Time to wake the fire!
Ember glows,
Twig crackles,
Flame leaps.
Come out!
Come have a thaw
At my little flame.
Warm those icy fingers
And remember -
Camping's fun!

And, since second-rate poetry usually comes in bunches...

Welcome to the circle of my light -
Attracted like a bunch of drowsy moths
Trailing useless wings of Slumberjack and North Face.
I'll warm you like a name-brand never could
As you hold chapped fingers to my heart.
Feed my insatiable desire...
I'll feed yours...
Welcome to the circle of my light.

And oh, hey-ho! Looks like I missed Sunday night, too. I don't even have a semi-valid excuse for that. :-{o This isn't exactly a stellar first week, is it?

October 22, 2012
Trace the hint of poetry
Threading the prosaic.
Find it in the dance
Of windy leaves,
Don't lose it in the ache
Of worn-out feet.
God is in the poem -
The joy of daily things -
Find it, find Him,
And see that life is good.

I'm largely unimpressed with most of this. I don't expect you to be impressed, either. But, I accomplished my goal. I sat down, exhausted, utterly uninspired, and wrote a poem. I think that it was probably good for me in some way.

October 23, 2012
Who is Inspiration?
What does she look like?
I think that I have
Sometimes
Heard her voice -
In leaves and skies
And rainy nights -
But I have never captured,
Tethered her.
Studied her and made her
Work for me.
Perhaps,
When I can write and rhyme
More perfectly,
I'll set a trap
Of words
That makes a microscope
And tether
Seem worthwhile.
She'll come,
And fall,
And I shall have her caged.
But then, of course,
(And oh, the irony)!
I'll have no need of her.
I'll set her on my shelf
And say,
With rueful smile,
'Look what I have caught
At last!
But since I'm doing
So well all on
My own
(Thank you)!
I think I'll set her free
For other bards to chase...
Perhaps I'll join the hunt myself
And (just for fun)
I'll set my trap again,
And tell her
I don't mean her
Any harm.

And, once I'd sweated that poem out of the way, I couldn't sleep 'til I'd finished these pieces of doggerel.

Catch and release -
A conservation program for the Muse.
Now there's an idea!

Please, don't take this too seriously.

I built this little bubble
Of abnormality.
I wish to live in oddity
Shut out of humdrum life.
So when I say 'I'm strange',
It is a truthful statement
Of gentle pride -
The accomplishment of lifelong goals,
The culmination
Of years of research and practice
The crowning moment
Of eccentricity.
So don't you dare
To ever question
My insanity!

I seem to have lost my rhyming abilities rather early on in this gig. :-/ 

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