I learn I’ve earned a top fan badge for God, the news reaches my notificationsand it makes me laugh on a couple fronts, the first of which is the genius here: to be the first person to have the gutsto make a Facebook profile page for Godwho’s antithetical to “churchiness,” antagonistic toward all dogma,calling outContinue reading “#492: I learn I’ve earned a top fan badge for God…”
Monthly Archives: April 2024
#491: Some days you just don’t want to write . . .
I Some days you just don’t want to write. You get up and you try to meditate,but something is wrong with your dog and sheis harassing you non-stop while you sitand you find yourself angry, cursing inbetween deep breaths in and out. And the promptfor today is uninspiring, the list of brainstorms you made for sonnets runsContinue reading “#491: Some days you just don’t want to write . . .”
#490: Sonnet with a Stolen Last Line from Shakespeare that is not a Sonnet about Shakespeare, FYI
When reading sonnets by another poet, I think to myself, mine aren’t very good. And I try to dial in the source of that doubtby pointing at the things I like in his, the things that make his poems better. He’s not rhyming, his lines, most all five beats;I’m not doing or doing these sameContinue reading “#490: Sonnet with a Stolen Last Line from Shakespeare that is not a Sonnet about Shakespeare, FYI”
#489: Ode to the Zip-up Hoodie
Between October and into the very last days of AprilI am wearing you, one of three zip-uphoodies I own. I favor you over pull-overhoodies, because, when things heat up,you can be removed so quickly, and put back onwhen things cool down, and then you can be removed, and put back on, and removed, and putContinue reading “#489: Ode to the Zip-up Hoodie”
#488: My son at eighteen years becomes a fan . . .
I’m having a really hard time with the idea that the 8th of April might be the first day on which I don’t complete the composition of two poems, one of which must be a sonnet. I could let myself off the hook, I suppose, because yesterday I posted a 28 line sonnet, or, rather,Continue reading “#488: My son at eighteen years becomes a fan . . .”
#487: On Getting a Parking Ticket
Almost nothing elseangers me like a parking ticket. Stopped for coffee with a friendand in that hour or lesssome gutless park patrol personswings by and slaps the ticketin the windshield under the wiper. I’m mad. It makes for a very expensivecup of coffee, perhaps the most expensive cup of coffee I’ve ever had. And I’mContinue reading “#487: On Getting a Parking Ticket”
#486: I wouldn’t call myself insomniac . . .
Here’s the seventh sonnet on the seventh day, a full week of two poems a day for a month. Right about now, the 20 days ahead is looking to me like a long haul. Today’s sonnet includes some extra-credit, bonus material. Sometimes 14 lines is not enough. So how about a twenty-eight line sonnet? Or,Continue reading “#486: I wouldn’t call myself insomniac . . .”
#485: Wish You Were Here
I knew that I recognized this prompt from NaPoWriMo today. Total deja vu moment as I found myself looking to the web for a free graphic I could use of the back of a postcard. Then I just gave up and wrote the poem. But I wanted to know for sure, and, lo and behold,Continue reading “#485: Wish You Were Here”
#484: Kevin was obsessive, compulsively so . . .
Kevin was obsessive, compulsively soand would sometimes anger when things didn’t gothe way he liked, would bite with sarcasm, poke at his wife, but this was his worst. Even though he’d say that when he metmy sister, he was a drugged-up mess, from the beginning none of us saw this. What we saw was aContinue reading “#484: Kevin was obsessive, compulsively so . . .”
#483: A Mom Thing
My mother was not Jewishbut would often use the nameof the traditional wineas if it were a swear word. She’d exclaim in frustration,“Manischewitz!” I never learned why she did this, nor did I knowwhat the word meantand I never asked. Only after she died, and I was thinking about all the oddballsayings of hers, didContinue reading “#483: A Mom Thing”
michael jarmer 