Souwest Words: 25 poets in Southwestern Ontario, Canada, compiled by Win Schell

Apparently available in audio CD only, at our library anyway, it was a lovely listen with a variety of poets from London, Ontario, reading their own works, including some of First Nations origin, on a wide range of topics. A few were a bit iffy, but most were very well done, and a few had me hitting pause to think quietly.

Previous to this one, I listened to another CD of poetry from one author. I won’t even burden you with the title. It was terrible. Not only was it full of nonsensical new age philosophy, but the poetry and the background music, supposedly there to add to the “experience”, was beyond bad. Good thing I had Souwest Words to wash away the bad taste in my ears.

No more poems

It appears many poetry publishers are no longer willing to publish poems that have been published in any way, shape or form, including blogs. Therefore I regrettably will not be publishing my poems until after they have been published elsewhere, unless I specifically write one for this blog alone. Sorry!

Write, write, write…right?

How to write:
Butt in chair. Keyboard easily accessible. Write.

Been crazily getting ready for the Utmost Christian Writers Novice Christian Poetry Contest. Imagine me, at 46, a novice. Took me a while to get that in my head, that it was okay, no shame, blah blah blah. Gotta start somewhere, huh?

I should be able to post my entries soon.

By the way, just so you know, I rarely publish finished, polished copies of my work on my blog. Don’t know why I needed to say that. Guess since I’m over the novice thing, I’m looking for something else to feel insecure about…

Hope you all had a great weekend!

Think

A lover of learning,
I don’t want to know,
a receiver of discernment,
I don’t want to be shown.
End the epiphanies,
the erudition,
the enlightenment;
block the brain blasting,
the incoming of information,
the undertaking of understanding;
weaken the waves of wit,
the inclination for insight,
cut the cacophony of cognition,
frustrate the fact finding,

I just need to think.

Get Ready

pillows

sheets

sleeping bag

sunscreen

swimsuit

sunglasses

hat

toothbrush

toothpaste

towels

washcloths

soap

changes of clothes

paper

pens

addressed, stamped envelops

All packed for camp tomorrow.

Now all in our beds,
I get ready for him to go.

I just can’t, but here’s a challenge instead

I just can’t write a poem today. By way of viable excuses, physio was difficult today and the few bruises left on my arm from the acupuncture aren’t helping. So in lieu of an fresh, original, just written today poem, here is one I wrote a while back. With it comes a challenge. Discover the special secret to this poem, and then try to write one yourself.

DREAM ON

Angelic boys cheerfully dream,
Explore fantasies galore,
However impossible.
Jubilant kingly lore,
Mysterious native oracles,
Princes, queens, royalty,
Scary tyrants,
Unkempt vagrants,
Whimsical, x-ray-like, young zebras.

I have to say

This is my inspiration for my poem today. I hope it’s tolerable.

I have to say,
You look good in that.
Not because you look good in that,
but because I feel
socially coerced to say it.

I have to say,
That doesn’t suit you.
Not because I feel
socially coerced to say it,
but because it doesn’t suit you.

I have to say…
Sometimes we mean what we say,
sometimes it’s a game we play.
Did you play it today?

Don’t ask me Why

Late last night, my son went for a walk,
   Don't ask me why,
To the park,
   Don't ask me why.
He thought he'd go barefoot for a bit,
   Don't ask me why,
So he took his shoes off and left them while he walked,
   Don't ask me why.
When he looked back, a guy and girl were there,
   Don't ask me why.
They picked up his shoes,
   Don't ask me why,
Filled them with sand from the playground,
   Don't ask me why,
And tossed them in the pool,
   Don't ask me why.
They threw them in the shallow end,
   Don't ask me why,
And one floated about,
   Don't ask me why,
And the other landed on the rim of the pool,
   Don't ask me why,
Completely missing the huge public pool,
   Don't ask me why.
My son stood there and watched them,
   Don't ask me why,
Just a few feet away,
   Don't ask me why,
But the two teens didn't even see him there,
   Don't ask me why.
Next morning, a man from the city was there,
   Don't ask me why,
So I asked him to fish the shoes out for me, and he did,
   Don't ask me why.
I chucked the sand back into the playground.
Very little of it came out of the shoes in the pool
Because they'd packed it in so well
And the water packed it in even more,
So their little act of vandalism rendered no reward
Save my son having to walk home barefoot.
That's what happens when you leave your shoes
   lying around in a park.
      Don't ask me why.

They were good shoes.
If I had no conscience like those teens,
I would've brought them home!
   Don't ask me why.

Hot

 

It’s too hot
too hot to write
too hot to cook
too hot to shop
too hot to work

What excuse
will I have
in January?

Today’s poem

Lots done today.
Here all day.
Washed, sang, played,
filed, read, prayed,
folded, emptied, parleyed.
I should stay
home every day.