No Poet I

Today's Link
Nea's Nuttiness

Today's Saying
A poem begins with a lump in the throat. ~Robert Frost

Today's Picture
Ella & new friend in Church ( Part two)

Every day this month I am writing a poem.
No! I don’t think I’m a poet.
In fact I know I’m not a poet.
But every day some guy who is a poet or thinks he’s a poet gives me a subject to write on.
Then I write.
Some days I write passable drivel.
Some days I just write drivel.
But I do not write real poems.
Real poems don’t come from prompts.
They rise up inside the poet and scream until he lets them out.
The poem directs its own form.
You don’t sit down and say “ Today I’ll write about the village smithy” because that’s the prompt .
You don’t invite me “ To grow old along with me” because of a prompt.
It screams inside of you until it pours upon the page.
I could take a course on poetry writing ($350) but it wouldn’t make me a poet.
It would teach me how to make my drivel look more like a real poem.
You can learn mechanics.
You can learn forms.
But after you have done all that your still not a poet.
A real poet is so driven that poetry becomes his life.
He writes because he must.
He writes because his demons drive him too.
I have no inner demons only outer prompts.
Prompts are really helpful when your writing drivel.
At least you have something to write about.
Please note as I stand here on my soap box spouting off that everything I say applies only to me.
I never judge your poetry.
I have to stop this diatribe.
It’s time for my prompt.

News from Pigeon Falls

The little town in my basement where the trains still run, dragons fly, and life is back to normal
Herman has put the whole incident with Mark behind him and is back working at the church. He is going to be doing a Bible Study on the book of Jonah and already has five students signed up. That’s pretty good since Lutherans aren’t much for adult education. They think once they are confirmed they know everything.
Tommy UK has also put the Mark thing aside. He is busy walking Tammy home from school. He carries her books and holds her hand. He doesn’t look like somebody with the kind of power he has. He looks like just another lovesick kid. But now that his life has returned to normal he is planning on calling his uncle and trying to learn more about his birth parents.
The rumor down at Nancy’s is that Petrovich is just about ready to release the dribblet that foretells the end of the world. He, of course, has said nothing. But people are saying that they have heard that it will be really horrible.
Pastor Joan is now taking Mondays off. Her husband has cleared his schedule so he can be home on Mondays and make sure she doesn’t overdo .

Wrap UP

It was a very good day. Ella's pictures stand by themselves. Her friend is my grand elephant Elmer. From now on I will comment not on what Ella is doing for the day but on the picture . That means you will get Ella news a little late. I Worked hard on today's poetry . I know it doesn't show. The important thing is Betty liked it. I visited the blogs of those who commented yesterday and a few others. Now I need a breathing treatment.

GBYA

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