I wish I were a poet. I think poetry is the most powerful of the written art forms. I’m so reverential about it I haven’t written any since I was at school.
I know I am not good at it but now I’m at the age where I realise I don’t have forever so I am going to write the odd poem out of various silly impulses because I also lack silliness in my life. If you’re waiting to do something for a similar reason, why wait? Might as well give it a go. Have heart, it’s OK to be bad at things (and I can’t for the life of me figure out how to turn off the extra line gaps in this editor) – viz
Poem #1
I don’t know this
And I don’t know that
I don’t know a cat or
Why is a dog or
How does a frog or
Where is that log?
Is a bog
Good or bad?
Is it coincidence sons is not
Suns?
Could there be an elephant made out of buns?
I can’t catch time as it runs.
As it runs
Runs
Runs
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