The end is in sight
by dark of night
a lone poet sits
to write.
A bit of doggerel
rhymes with mackerel
a poet dreams of
bits of shell.
A silly little rhyme
lacking meter or time
the poet muses, “Not
sublime.”
This was the last day for National Poetry Writing Month.
I wrote the equivalent of one poem a day, but as so often in my life I found I had to adjust my expectations. I wrote more some days, and not at all on others. Learning to be more moderate and realistic, letting go. I don’t like that I cannot go all out every day, but I do like being able to relax a bit and sit without having to be “productive” every moment.
I hope you will visit some of the sites of other poets who took part this year. There is a list at NaPoWriMo.net. Enjoy!