poem

April 1

 
NaPoWriMo.net started me off with some homework. Read a bit about Kay Ryan, read some of her poetry, try writing in her style. I might not be the worst-read person trying to write poetry, but I rank. Kay Ryan is but one major modern poet I hadn’t read before this morning. Or, thought I hadn’t read. Dipping randomly through the selections of her work on the Poetry Foundation website (a great resource), I bumped into a poem I remembered even though I didn’t know its writer’s name. Now I know. When you stop learning you’re just about dead.
 
My poem’s not great, but it was fun. Might have some hope down the line.
 
The Irritation

Genesis begins
in the beginning,
like a good poem
from which all dross
was erased, and
without creating
a holey, noticeable
absence. Whatever
itch, irritation or noise
instigated Genesis’
spare perfection, and
how much timeless
time it took, are
beside the point—gone
with correction.
 

 
I thought I’d try the style responding to Robert’s Poetic Asides prompt “reminiscing“. That didn’t turn out all that well, but it’s grist for the mill.
 
Back Then

How good were they,
the good old days?
Un-deregulated, regimented
the well-behaved, times
when men were men
and enemies were well-
defined. Those times
in the rear distance seem bigger
or smaller, better
or worse than they were
while we were in them.
Back then, the future
seemed both looming
and impossible. Full
of threats and promises.
Comparisons require
a well-placed fulcrum,
and we have none.

 

 

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