Let’s be real.
National Poetry Month – 30 poems in 30 days – is kicking my butt. And we’re only on Day Eleven. I’ve skimmed pages and pages of rejected diary entries. I’ve tried to resurrect old poems. I’ve scattered my prose across the page in short lines, called it a poem, discovered that – in fact – it was.
Sometimes it works out. Sometimes it doesn’t.
Yesterday, Miss E suggested I write about her zooming around on her stick-broom playing charades, trying to make me guess which Harry Potter character she was – over and over, always with the same dialogue, same facial expressions, sometimes with a slightly different posture or a tic.
Write about magic. Write about flying. Write about running. Fast.
I was happy for her suggestion. It led me to Harry Potter, my poem topic for the night. It opened a conversation about poetry. It made her curious this morning to see what I’d written. But most of all, I was touched because she asked me to write about her, and I don’t always know if she wants me to.
Tonight, we were out with friends having ice cream on a bench outside, so we wrote a limerick together – of course – mostly Miss E, but a little bit me, and a little bit her cousin, too. (Thank you, Trina, for the idea!)
There once was a dog named Karen.
She liked to chase a heron.
She found a hook.
She read a book.
Then she went home with Aaron.
I park my bum on a bench
Ten feet from the compost stench
Write a ditty
In the city
My poetry thirst to quench.
Can you tell I had no help with that one? See the thing is, there was a new compost bin just outside the ice cream shop – not excellent placement, in my opinion - and I can’t make it fit into a rhyme that involves ice cream. But there it is. I tried, and trying counts.
Have a great night!
National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days