As much as I hate to admit it, I’m starting to feel like I’m into poetry.
It keeps occurring, time and time again, on this blog of mine, and I’m starting to actually be inspired to write it (not as a joke, or a gag) because I feel it.
Like really feel it.
And that bugs me.
Because I’m not into poetry.
As in I hate it.
And even poets for that matter.
You know, the serious unrhymey kind.
I think it’s the berets.
I love Shel Silverstein and Jack Prelutsky, but my knowledge of notable poets ends there.
Because I hate it.
Poetry has always (at least before) made me twitch.
But nowadays, I upload a photo of one of The Dudes and a poem starts.
I hope it doesn’t mean I’m getting old.
I’ve never wanted to be wise.
That’s just a nice way of saying you’re old.
Point is, thanks to a picture (taken by #1 of #3 and I engrossed in our nightly routine of dancing when I should be cleaning the kitchen) I’ve got another poem for you.
And, I know they aren't all technically correct or on the level of (insert name of well known poet who I'm unfamiliar with who writes really good stuff), but they are poem like, and for me, that's pretty much the exact same thing.
This week's poem inspiring photo:
a hurried life at breakneck pace.
appreciation lost to haste.
one day I’ll long to see this face,
ashamed I let it go to waste.
Dumb Mom, 2010
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