I joined Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides Poem A Day challenge in April 2012. I am not a poet by any stretch of the imagination, but I enjoy trying to write it. I enjoy writing prose much more, much much more. 2013’s challenge was a bit of a letdown, a sophomore jinx for me. I wrote nearly very day, but I wrote because I had to, not because I wanted to. This year I feel different. I am in a great writing frame of mind at the moment. (Maybe I will blog about that soon.) I don’t feel pumped so much about poetry as I do about simply expressing myself through words. I think there might be a difference. I am trusting mages will flow. That’s what successful writers do, so I am told.
I ordered some help from eBay. I have purchased copies of “The Art And Craft Of Poetry” by Michael Bugeja and “Writing Poetry From The Inside Out: Finding Your Voice Through the Craft Of Poetry” by Sandford Lyne. Both of these books are highly recommended by forgotten sources in my past. I paid $20 for the two of them delivered.
But books do not make a writer good. Good writing makes a writer good. Good writing is a lot of hard work in both learning and crafting. I am uber-busy this month, but I am still planning on using it to improve my craft. Improve my prose. Yes, I need to think about this prose entry, the changes I have experienced, the belief that writing “interesting” prose is vital and poetry cannot be ignored if you wish to write interesting prose – rhyme, imagery, lyricism, etc.
Let’s cut to the chase. April 1’s prompt is a Two-For-Tuesday prompt: beginning and ending. I wrote two but am posting only one. I am ending this post with my beginning PAD ending poem 😉
I shove a book I really don’t want but can’t throw away into a liquor box
It disappears under the locking cardboard flaps
A taped up collections of old words I have barely read
A collected wisdom of dead authors few remember
I cannot throw them out
I cannot bring myself to set them on a curb as food for the giant brown truck of progress
Maybe I can find room for them in the corner, under my table
Among the dust bunnies and lost computer screws
Beside the other boxes