I’m not even sure if this can properly be called a poem, but I think I’m getting there.
After almost two weeks of work, I finally finished the first draft of a new poem. I won’t be publishing it here. I’m saving them up to send to magazines. I’ve been learning blank verse, which I discovered is what I’d been trying to write all along. Who knew! It’s fun and challenging, and a couple of months ago I would have considered it finished, but there are rules to follow – not slavishly, but still. The funny thing is, having a definite structure is actually quite liberating and stimulating. I doubt I’ll ever be an instapoet, but that’s not a bad thing. I’ve discovered this is a life pursuit for me, so even if I never publish again, someone sometime might find it useful or amusing. Meanwhile, I get to write it.
Once again, Day breaks in upon her Like a thief, Like a tender, nervous lover; Sets a shadow Like a veil Across Her eyes -- Her perfect body turning-- Her fragrance fills the sky-- Her lips smiling warmer than the sun Light on her skin. The needle shadow Marks her Passing through the day.
Hanging from the railings of a derelict
paradise, a sleeping bag
in shades of blue, the pricetag swinging
like the ringer of a softly tolling bell.