In Day 589: One Thing, I posted four pictures of words I had encountered in my travels. Two of my generous readers saw the results as poetry, no less.
Ever since both Louise Gallagher and Hilary Custance Green saw a poem in that post, I’ve been considering that I might be poet (even if I don’t know it).
I might even be a good poet, like this impressive dog, whom I remember very clearly from a long-ago Late Night with David Letterman:
Actually, when I compare myself to that dog, I feel pretty daunted. I mean, that’s some damn fine poetry, don’t you think?
Comparing myself to other poets doesn’t help, though. Therefore, I am going to let go of the cognitive distortion of comparisons and doggedly try this poetry thing one more time, with some photos I took yesterday:
Geesh. I don’t know about that poem. To me, it doesn’t seem right.
Two questions: What’s wrong with it? And can I fix it, before it’s time to publish this post?
Here’s what’s bugging me about that poem:
It doesn’t rhyme. And while lots of great poetry doesn’t rhyme, I HAVE written limericks (and a few other poems, too, now that I think of it) that rhyme fine. (And maybe I should show off that skill, here, to impress my readers.)
The “poem” implies that there is only one way to sustain yourself (which I don’t believe, by the way), and then it contradicts itself, by showing more than one way to do that.
One of the words I chose for that poem was “independently” and — while I value independence — I think we can be too independent, sometimes. It especially bothers me that I’m using the word “independently” within a post where (I hope) I’m showing how important the support of others can be, in helping me feel better about myself and take risks.
It doesn’t have a big finish. Even though I think the sentiment on that cup is helpful and important, I’m afraid it won’t leave a lasting impression.
So what to do, now, before I end this post? I really don’t want to rewrite that poem.
Well, I COULD show off one of my old limericks or other rhyming achievements from long ago. However, the past is the past, as another cup tried to tell me yesterday:
And even though I might have some issues with my writing here , another cup has some helpful advice:
Hmmm. Showing that third cup allows me to end this post with a kind of rhyme, in time (see here, if you don’t believe me).
Nevertheless, something still feels missing to me.
Maybe I could write a new poem, right now! Am I up for the task? Let’s find out!
