i heard the marching band go down the street
the school’s a block over
i’m reading, thinking while upstairs a worker
finishes, hopefully, tile in the bathroom
some pictures, i see where i could hang a few
overall the old house is coming along
this the second year sharing life with contractors
give us a break, wrap it up, how much can we take?
not writing enough everyday has me off pace
though the year rolls warm and friendly
i note 67 creeping my back stairs
you can find out how old is some day
nights i dream of things to write
instead of getting up to make notes
i sleep thru and tell myself i’ll remember
you know, those distant trains hardly wake me anymore
Thursday, February 02, 2012
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3 comments:
a poem of ponderings Nice. I often have the best ideas at nigh but mostly forget it as I don't bother to write it down. I can only write when I am not busy So that has to wait for a while
thanks, Marja, i like the way this one came out, i'd like to go this way again. it's the middle of the night again here, 3:50, let's see how i feel about it after i go to bed and think about it in the morning.
Hi Jack,
I enjoy the reflection in this poem and the imagery including sounds; and especially this line with the rest of the rhythm: "though the year rolls warm and friendly."
67, huh? You've got a lot of years yet to being old. (As I look forward to that age in another twelve.)
I keep losing poems if I don't write them down- those beginning lines that get it all going. I started one this morning, and did manage to get a few lines written before I started work, but I'd lost some sense of it between the initial thought and the time when I could get to it, so it didn't flow from start to finish. It's kind of sitting there, waiting for the next inspiration to breathe life back into it.
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