This was a project I did basically during the pandemic. I started writing a poem a day. Once ‘real life’ started again it got harder to write everyday, which is interesting.
I have started to edit some of these mostly the kids poetry. I think there might be enough here for a book. We shall see.
I make no claim that much of this is “good” poetry. But I do make the claim that I loved doing it and I learned something and some of it makes me cry.
pause
Hi Friends,
I have been writing a poem every day since August 18, 2020.
That is a long time.
And…it is time for a break.
I’m going to take the summer off to see what happens.
Before I go, I want to really truly deeply thank you for reading.
I know lots of times it wasn’t much but some words on a page
and a bad rhyme or two…
but we did meet some fun characters along the way!
I’m not sure what’s next but for now… pressing pause.
Kim
my well-worn habit
yesterday I forgot my poem
today I wake and I keep on goin’
these silly words given some shape
my well-worn habit will not break
promises: keep
those times you pause
feel resolve dip
were going strong
will takes a hit
these are the times
you must dig deep
be the one who
promises: keep
the big ring
my words won’t win no prizes
that ain’t no big surprise kid
I find my fun in doin’
stopped my idle stewin’
don’t worry ‘bout the next thing
this habit - it’s the big ring!
the day ran away
this poem is quite late
almost a new date
the day just ran away
but my streak? it will stay!
off the hook
today I wanted to be off the hook
not write this poem
hoped you won’t look
but…
here I am, it may not be good
but I showed up
cuz’ I said that I would
the very last lap
hard to remember
way back to the start
a wall full of Xs
now covers the chart
come to the end
the very last lap
dig deep and finish
this route on your map
making rhymes
almost forgot
another day
keep on going
not much to say
very late
but here I go
making rhymes
it’s bad, I know….
the big question
a few more weeks
to hit the goal
one poem each day
that was the pole
the question now
what comes next?
I will admit
I am perplexed
I like the rhythm
but is it done?
the big question —
is it still fun?
one more month
one more month
what does that mean?
maybe nothing
at least it seems
we measure time
by calendar
it only works
’cuz we concur
here I count
my days and weeks
to keep track of
my writing streaking
one more time
Quiet house
No one up
Chore is done
Fed the pup
Writing words
Finding rhymes
Poem done
One more time
need to write a poem
need to write a poem
don’t know what to say
sometimes there are days like these
the words just go away
no ideas strike me
my mind a white blank slate
quickly now just type the thing
it won’t turn out great
but happy to have done it
another day goes by
need to write a poem
even if the well is dry
my brain came through
pish posh
tiddly tot
almost forgot
but I did not
mish mash
pizzely wuz
my brain came through
it always does
You laughed at my poems
You laughed at my poems
I still hear you sneer
I can’t help but say it
You hurt me my dear
You think they don’t matter
They won’t win a prize
But I still respect them
Does that surprise?
I call them silly
I probably should not
These poems, I love them
Oh the riches they’ve brought
Some have helped others
Some make me laugh
They’ve helped me to see
I’m not less than or half
We all need a way
To find who we are
To know in our heart
We shine like a star
missed another day
well I missed another day
didn’t do what I did say
the first time felt like rotten rot
this time, well, it did not
I have learned that it’s ok
just pick up and play away
examine the way
I said I would write
A poem a day
Let’s take a moment
Examine the way
First is the process
The never-ending walk
Truth is it’s hard
Some days I balk
It used to be easier
Feel more like play
Now it feels mired
My brain more like clay
I also was hoping
My skill set would grow
It sure seems to me
That process is slow
I know there are people
Who would laugh at my words
Some experts would say
All my poems are turds (ha!)
I know I’m not making
High flying art
I’m really just trying
To speak from my heart
I like making rhymes
Some that are silly
It’s fun to say words
Like willy nilly
I’m not even sure
What a poem should be
But I’m starting to think
It doesn’t matter to me
What I’ve discovered
It’s fun to just play
Be more like a kid
A little each day
The trip’s almost over
A few months to go
Thank you so much for reading
It matters more than you know
What makes a good poem?
What makes a good poem?
To be honest I can’t really tell.
One reader claims perfect genius
while another mimes awful smells.
Two different reactions
to the same collection of words,
perhaps the system of judgment
rings faulty and a little absurd.
A poem only just sits there,
organized marks on a page.
Consider this measure of goodness —
is it static or does it engage?
Do the words beg you to say them?
Gather sounds up in your mouth?
Find their natural cadence,
climb north then dip down south.
Others may have an answer
but I truly can’t say.
To me, a poem — to write one —
a simple, plain form of play.