Poems! Poems!

Today is 27th April. Am I right? And April is National Poetry Month. I've been to, and really appreciated the blogs of quite a few dedicated poets and poetry-lovers this month, had a fleeting thought of "Must do something about that!", but to my shame, I haven't, have I? Maybe the fact that it's not International Poetry Month made me feel in some way that there really was no onus on me to do anything. I'll confess my poetry-life has been in the doldrums lately. There's so much else going on. When I've gone to my twice-monthly writers' group meetings over the past few months, I've been rooting around in my archives and notebooks, hauling out likely prospects written in months and years past, resurrecting them, brushing them down, and bringing them in for feedback. They've been well-received, but still, that hasn't given me the impetus to get back to writing regularly.

We had a wonderful weekend retreat, during which I did write, but it still didn't kick-start me into the day-to-day time I used to spend with notebook and pen, but something's happened over the past couple of weeks that I've hardly really noticed until today. - I have written poems. The evidence is in my notebook. There's one on 15th of the month, another on 17th, and yesterday, and again today, more poems. It's not a flood, but it's a start. It's not the 30 poems that some people are aiming to produce this month. But it feels good. So I want to thank January, Jillypoet, Inland Empire Girl, Cate (who frequently shares glorious poems on her beautiful blog), and all of you who have been writing or sharing poems during this month.

Just this weekend, I happened to finally actually go to the blog of Patti Digh - 37 Days, and found, among a wealth of articles that are enriching, life-affirming, encouraging and empowering in many, many ways, that she has been marking this month by sharing a poem, and thoughts on the power of poetry in our lives each day this month. Go over there. Browse. It's wonderful!

One of January's poem's was titled "Funny Poem". Something about it was the impetus for me to start a poem, so I'll share here:

...........................Astray

.........This is the poem that lost the way.
.........It was headed home,
.........with all the right words,
.........the perfect apology for its long absence,
.........when it got waylaid.

.........A stray notion pulled it aside,
.........and that was the end of THAT good intention.

........This is the poem that spent the money
........that was meant for flowers
........on seven pints, a round for the lads,
........a doner kebab(*) on the way home.

........This is the poem that just plain forgot:
........Sometimes there is no home after that.
........Sometimes - as the barman says -
........you really DO have no home to go to.(**)

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Cultural References:

(*) Doner kebab : Traditional Irish food, commonly consumed after a night in the pub

(**) Common phrase uttered in plaintive tones by barman at the end of the night, when patrons show no indication of plans to leave the pub, even after lights have been turned off, and a bell repeatrdly rung: "Come on, now, Gents, have yiz no homes to go to?"