Back in May 1998, I set myself the task of writing a short poem every day. It’s not that difficult if you think of them as haikus: short and sweet.
What was interesting about this project to me was that I had to be deliberately aware of the something deeper that’s always going on. And re-reading these poems today, I could remember what inspired me to write most of them.
For example on May 6th, 1998:
travels straight up the lead
into my palm…As I recall, I was walking Lily very late at night and we passed by a bizarre girl. Even though it was a warm night, she was dressed in heavy, dark winter clothing from head to toe, and vibrating with anger. She terrified Lily who started barking madly—I could actually feel her doggie heart pounding at the end of the lead.
I’ve never done much with my poetry because I really don’t consider myself to be a poet. I think it’s partly because that kind of writing tends to be such a personal thing, you don’t want to admit to it unless you can polish your words up properly. (It’s a lot more fun not to feel you have to, though).
I had to laugh when I picked up the latest issue of The Oprah Magazine. There are several articles on poetry, but the P-word does not appear on the cover. Maybe the editors were afraid they would scare prospective readers away with the word POETRY, so they chose instead to lure them in by promising …How to Inspire the Best in You: Words That Sooth, Ideas That Delight—36 Pages You’ll Want to Keep Forever!