Or
I’ve Heard It’s Good Luck
I’ve heard the birds are herding our words
Hoarding our nouns and hiding our verbs
Amassing an arsenal of arguments
In nests throughout the ‘burbs
To pepper us with platitudes
And bombard us with blurbs
Call it pigeon propaganda
(So said the little bird)
So I’m cautious of the crow
I see cawing on the curb
And I’m wary of the wren
As he’s easy to disturb
For avian avengers
Are hiding in the herbs
And today’s topiary twitters
Tomorrow may be turds
Hello.
I haven’t posted since… February or so? Didn’t check the date on my last post, but it’s been a while.
I’m thinking I’d like to start posting semi-regularly again. I don’t know how often people stumble across this site, but I like knowing my poetry is out there for people to read, regardless of whether or not it gets commented on. I like to imagine the occasional web surfer stumbles across something I’ve written, and they can relate to it in some way. Maybe it brightens their day. Maybe it doesn’t.
But in those moments when you feel something, deeply, you are alive.
I haven’t been writing as regularly as I used to. I still have plenty of time to do so, but there are a lot of distractions in the modern world, and I find what little I am writing hasn’t been of a quality I’m willing to share. Not that my judgment of such things is unbiased…
Still, perhaps the simple acting of writing, every day, regardless of what comes out, will help me tap back into that inner wellspring of inspiration which has been running dry these past few months.
This is a call to my muse!
Sing to me!
