being frank

OK; I will admit that I came up short for this posting cycle. Between a heavy work schedule and the constant reminders of aging as I work to get the farm ready for Spring, I found myself unable to finish a few other pieces I had begun writing a couple of weeks ago.

But a happenstance call from our beloved cousin Donna changed that, and I am forever in her debt. The conversation flowed into a discussion about writing; specifically, the editorial aspects of the craft. We exchanged thoughts and insights about what we had learned, experienced or feared over the years regarding punctuation (let’s face it, it’s the pebble in the shoe of any writer.) She then told me about her experience writing poetry; something she clearly loves but often felt it to be a daunting task because of punctuation and the like. I shared with her that I had self-published a small poetry book about 28 years ago, and the experience had taught me to let go of the restrictions of structure and first concentrate on the content. I then mentioned a funny anecdote that occurred while drafting the book.

One evening, in one of my more (dubiously) prolific moments, I wrote ten poems in one night. At first, I was quite proud of the achievement. But then doubts and concerns started to settle in, and I began questioning the validity of the work. I eventually got over that and authored a small poem to commemorate the experience. It is the only poem I have ever written that I recall from memory. I decided for a bit of fun that I would publish it here. You’ll see why it’s the one I remember; no impressive feat. Enjoy.

Ten Poems
I wrote ten poems
In one night.
I wrote ten poems;
Such delight.

I wrote ten poems
In a snap.
And probably
All ten are crap.