(Here’s a poem loosely modeled after a formal structure invented by Donald Justice. It was yesterday’s prompt from NaPoWriMo, but I found it especially challenging. This one took me two days)
I
There is something odd and possibly wrong
about writing a poem with the Notes app,
at a gate in the Atlanta airport, no less.
Fewer places are less conducive to poetry, app or no app.
But there’s a full bar here, and food, right at the gate
and I’ve got an hour and a half to wait at this gate.
II
On the flight from Dayton, I listened to the first chapter of a book
about embracing our imperfection. The author claims our energies are wasted,
that we work too hard on ourselves trying to make everything right.
As I listened, I wondered how much time I’ve wasted
trying to fix myself and the life this self is living
instead of embracing the whole big mess of living.
III
Meanwhile I decide against the overpriced bar food,
buy a wrap and some fruit from Hudson instead, some nourishment
for the six hours until Portland. At the gate, a woman sits close,
listens to her own self help audiobook, some spiritual nourishment,
and I know that because she’s listening through her phone speakers.
“Being chosen is not something to brag about” blasts through her speakers.
IV
On this painfully long flight, I watch a film called A Real Pain.
I didn’t see it at the time, but now I do: an audiobook about
embracing imperfections, paired with a film about people who
are staggeringly imperfect and lovable, and a weekend entirely about
reaching a kind of musical perfection in a world class percussion competition.
One place shy of the bronze, and yet satisfied, fulfilled, proud: no competition.
michael jarmer 
Does seem a challenging scenario to write a poem. Great results by you!
one cannot —should not— rush through a poem like one must through an airport. A poem knows that, the poet too. Sometimes, they need to marinate; they come out more “tender” then. Yours is of high caliber. Wow. Thanks so much for letting me read this loveliness. I struggled with the prompt too and rushed—no respite. Wrote down what the poem dictated.
happy writing to you.
Thank you so much, for reading and for your generous comments.