Sunday, September 14, 2014


Day seven of my personal poetry challenge.  Just to see, you know.  If I could.  And as of 6PM tonight, things weren't looking good.  Here's the deal about creative work, there are ALWAYS other things to do. More pressing things, gardens and laundry and dinner and clean up and forever and just sitting around making stuff up?  Well, that seems a little self-indulgent when the broccoli is going to flower and leftover dinner is hardening in the pan.

Then I followed my own advice (oh so much easier to give to anyone else but myself) and just sat in my desk chair and looked around.  My eyes fell on the phone.

Tomorrow is my birthday and frankly, I'm not all that excited about it.  In fact, it's kind of ticking me off (eyes still on the phone), but no one wants to hear from a downer, I mean, we all need to surround ourselves with positive energy and all, good grief, the news is bad enough. In fact the news is really bad.  (no one wants to talk about that) and besides, I'm supposed to be writing a poem, not chatting on the phone.  I learn things about myself when I write. Writing is healthy to the troubled spirit, but I didn't sit down to write about my most recent case of the whinies, I'm supposed to be looking outside of myself for ideas. 

Oh, yeah. The phone.


All alone?
Or telephone?
And if I choose
how long before
I change my mind
and switch?
My brain’s too full.

I can’t converse,
but isolation’s so
much worse.
Opt in?
Opt out?
What could be next?
I could (maybe) text.

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