Tag Archives: two poems in one day

#436: One More (I Promise, the Last) Metaphor Dice Poem on April 28, 2022

poetry. sacrosanct. midwife.

Thirty days has the cruelest month
and thirty days in a row for nine years
during April I have written a poem.
I try and mostly fail to communicate
to my students the worth of such a thing,
poetry in and of itself, yes, let alone
writing one every day for thirty days,
but they don’t quite buy it.
I think they see it as a kind of madness.
They’re not wrong. There is something
obsessive about it, and maybe
masochistic, although, for me,
rarely is pain part of the equation.
It might be described as a kind of addiction,
but the high is nominal, a fleeting feeling
that, yes, after all, I have written another poem.
Whoop dee doo. It’s something else.
Almost devotional, religious, but more
than that, there is this ecstatic notion
that the endeavor has birthed some
essential part of me that wants to live:
poetry, the sacrosanct midwife
to every creative impulse within.

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#423: An Easter Egg Poem on April 17, 2022

Not like these.

On Easter Eve,
my house was egged.
Yeah, we were watching
television when suddenly
startled by the intense
bombardment on
the wall inside of which
we were engrossed
in a show, a wall covered,
I might add, with windows,
single paned, old glass,
that luckily, did not shatter.
These guys had to have
pretty good arms, because
our house is set away from
the street by a large margin.
These fools had to throw
over the fence and maybe
forty feet onto the property
to hit their target. They hit
their target and then they
drove off like chicken-shits
before we could even
figure out what had happened.
This was no random thing,
and that bothers me.
Today, on this Easter,
I have been thinking a lot,
way more than I would prefer,
about the kinds of things
I would like to say
to these assholes,
none of which is fit
for print, and none of which,
if I actually had the opportunity
to say these things
to the actual perpetrators,
would likely have any impact
on their pea brains.
But I’d feel better.

Yeah, I’d feel better.
Happy Easter.


Filed under Poetry