July 7: Another Night, Another Submission, Another "Web" Dip

Another Monday night.  I spent the first part of the evening vacuuming my house.  It took me a while to get motivated enough to push a vacuum cleaner.  It didn't help that I went for a run this evening and pulled something in my leg/ass.  I can actually feel my heart pulsing in my thigh right now.

After I cleaned my carpets, I did another submission of poems to a literary journal.  It took me a while to find a place currently accepting submissions.  An hour and a half, to be specific.  It was probably a monumental waste of time, but it's nice to have something for which to hope, if only for a little while.

And now, another Web dip:

Will I get published this fall?

And another answer from E. B. White:

Charlotte was delighted with the way her trick was working.  She sat without moving a muscle, and listened to the conversation of the people...

So, maybe I'm Charlotte, and maybe my trick is going to work.  People are going to talk about my poetry.


Saint Marty will accept that.

Pick a poem, any poem

June 9: Another Day, Another "Web" Dip

Back to the grind this morning.  After watching the Tony Awards last night, getting to bed even later than usual, I had to drag myself out of bed when the alarm sounded.  The only thing that got me through the day was 52 ounces of Diet Mountain Dew and a sense of humor.

My sense of humor, unfortunately, has abandoned me tonight.  I have four more days of work left until Friday, and my daughter's dance recital is this weekend.  That means a lot of rehearsals and a lot of time spent in dark auditoriums.  No matter how you cut it, my life is not going to be my own for the next seven days.

Don't get me wrong.  I love watching my daughter do something she loves.  It's just a lot of driving and waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting.  I will make good use of my time.  I still have to finish writing my Father's Day poem.  There's not a lot of downtime at my new job, so, after I'm done blogging this evening, I will be poeming this evening.  Yes, I know "poeming" is not an actual verb, but it gets my point across.

I need to find some inspiration.

And so, dear disciples, my question this Web dip Monday is--

Will I find my muse tonight?

And, Wilbur (the pig, not the character from Mr. Ed) says--

...The rat crawled in and ate everything.  The he tore a word out of the paper, rolled it up, and started back to Wilbur's pen.

 Well, say what you want about Templeton the rat, but he does bring inspiration to Charlotte.  I believe his two contributions to the webs are "radiant" and "humble."  Templeton is a muse.

Saint Marty just hopes his muse doesn't come with bubonic plague and a tail.

Can you spare a poem?