September 10: "In the Evening," Need Tos, Loserhood

Another day is coming to a close.  Quietly.

I spent most of today doing computer work.  Not exciting stuff, but necessary.  I got what I think are the last edits of my Bigfoot manuscript done.  I'm hoping to have news I can announce soon from the publisher.  I also tied up some details on a few other projects and started planning some new events.

Now, sitting on my couch, watching Kamala Harris deal with Donald Trump's exaggerations and lies, I'm ready to draw the curtain on today.

Billy Collins relaxes in the evening . . . 

In the Evening

by: Billy Collins

The heads of roses begin to droop.

The bee who has been hauling her gold

all day finds a hexagon in which to rest.

In the sky, traces of clouds,

the last few darting birds,

watercolors on the horizon.

The white car sits facing a wall.

The horse in the field is asleep on its feet.

I light a candle on the wood table.

I take another sip of wine.

I pick up an onion and a knife.

And the past and the future?

Nothing but an only child with two different masks.

Sometimes, as the sun is going down, I take inventory of what I've accomplished during the day.  I'm a list maker.  Every morning, I sit down and meditate on need tos, like tos, and hope tos.  I need to finish this project.  I'd like to get a start on that project.  I hope to plan out those projects.

In the gloaming of dusk, I usually find myself assessing.  No hope to planned.  No like to started.  Only half of my need tos completed.  And, I feel like a failure.  I've had people tell me to narrow the scope of my lists.  One coworker told me to put only three things on my list every morning.  By doing that, this person said, I can avoid the feeling of abject loserhood.  

Today, there were nine things on my to do list, including all the need, like, and hope tos.  I was able to check off almost every item.  After I'm done typing this post, I will have completed everything.  Plus, I get to watch the Felon in Chief be humiliated.

Saint Marty counts this day as a win.

July 23: "The Student," Rules of Poetry, Love and Bone

Billy Collins gives some poetry ground rules . . . 

The Student

by: Billy Collins

My poetry instruction book,
which I bought at an outdoor stall along the river,

contains many rules
about what to avoid and what to follow.

More than two people in a poem
is a crowd, is one.

Mention what clothes you are wearing
as you compose, is another.

Avoid the word vortex
the word velvety and the word cicada.

When at a loss for an ending,
have some brown hens standing in the rain.

Never admit that you revise.
And--always keep your poem in one season.

I try to be mindful,
but in these last days of summer

whenever I look up from my page
and see a burn-mark of yellow leaves,

I think of the icy winds
that will soon be knifing through my jacket.

There are certain rules of poetry that I've picked up throughout my writing life, some very much like the ones that Collins lists in the above poem.

For instance, I was taught not to use the words love and bone in a poem.  Eliminate articles like the and a and an.  Don't say you saw a tree--say you saw a juniper or elm or cottonwood.  Be specific.  Avoid using -ing verbals and gerunds like writing and skiing.  End poems with a concrete image, and, whatever you do, surprise the reader.

I could go on.  You see, each new poem I write teaches me something about writing poetry.  If you're planning on running a marathon, you train for it--with five, ten, or 15 mile runs. And with each run, you become better, stronger.  Artists do preliminary sketches.  Computer programmers design and redesign code.  The Paris Olympics are kicking off on Friday; for most of the athletes, those 17 days are the culmination of a lifetime of conditioning, practicing, struggling, and competing.  

I will say that I like breaking rules.  My Bigfoot manuscript is a collection of love poems, believe it or not.  The word love appears many times throughout the book, breaking one of the rules I listed above.  (I think the word bone appears a few times, too.)  It's a challenge to make old tropes and ideas new and fresh again.  That's one of the most exciting things about being a poet.

I've been a student of poetry for a majority of my life.  When I die, I will still be a student of poetry.  I'll keep writing new poems, breaking rules, pursuing beauty until I draw my last breath.  Every sunrise and moonrise is a call to be a better poet or husband or father, rules be damned.

Saint Marty is always in training.