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.

reflecting on the process Kimberly LeClair reflecting on the process Kimberly LeClair

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

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reflecting on the process, heart Kimberly LeClair reflecting on the process, heart Kimberly LeClair

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

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reflecting on the process, play Kimberly LeClair reflecting on the process, play Kimberly LeClair

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

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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.

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