She sat for over an hour in her car
with a pencil
scribbling and re-scribbling
until she found a way out of her confusion
while I walked the beach
angry, disgusted at the density of others
chilled by the sea breeze
my mind in turmoil
yet—unbidden—it rewrites the poem.
Peter Goodwin
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I haven't got a topic for a poem today
ReplyDeletethough I've tried to think of something off and on
Like this: the dog is snoring
in a way that's close to roaring
in G minor—no, that's boring
So I'm giving up.
Maggie Creshkoff
Finally getting around to posting my attempts while in NYC.
ReplyDeletePoem for 4/10/10
Dogs of NYC
The park teemed with joggers,
Skaters, bicyclists,
and dogs.
Brown, black, white
No yellow.
Pure breds and designer mutts,
Mullatos and hounds only
Their owners could love
White-haired retirees
walking dogs
Men and women
No teens or children.
Sometimes a stroller
With an infant inside
Dog attached.
But still, mom pushing
Controlling the urban wagon train.
All leashed
Except one bearded Scottie.
His owner, checked grungy fedora
Looming over his frown
Waited as the dog finished in the grass
And then trotted by his people
To the next clump of yellow daffodils.
Silent except one barking at another
Ignoring Dan and I
As we walk past in the Park.
Debbie, the grocery cat
Was friendly.
Purring and rubbing up against my leg
Meowing a question at my hand
Pet me again?