Sometimes I think there are two kinds of poets. There are the folks with actual talent who will become the pros, and then there are the others: those who slog away, bellying up to the page day after day if only to make sense of their lives.
As you might have guessed, I am the later. Words excite me, words send me into orbits of wonder. I sit and write, if only to figure out my next step. I love words. I will never be famous, but who cares? That is not the important thing.
I think that if everyone wrote a poem a day this world would be a better place. I am convinced of it. So let the movement start here. Sit. Take a pencil. Jot a few lines. And tomorrow, repeat.
The best thing about writing poems off the top of your head is that mystery takes over. You solve problems you didn't know you had. You get to play with words, those shy, funny creatures.
Twin
The name I really
want, Baraxa,
is a strong name. A
never-been-heard-before
name.
Who wouldn't
want such a name
when facing
a room full of
strangers?
-Kimberly Laustsen 2013
This poem is about confidence, or whatever your nemesis is. It would be so nice to have this outside thing: this name or cloak obtainable without effort to toss on when needed. But life holds no such tricks. We must earn what we own. We must work for our lessons. If we want to be fit, we must actually exercise and eat right. Darn that reality. If only we could invent a name and become it. Like Baraxa. How cool would that chick be? Very. No doubt.
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