The hard-to-write post is still giving me a headache so in the meantime here is an old poem. It says 2005 on the website but that's when it went up there - I wrote it about ten years ago. It may seem to be about writing but it is only partly about that and it certainly isn't about writer's block or any such thing (I get life blocks not writing blocks!). Maybe it will help me get this silly post out and done...
D Days
Some days
Words appear
Like presents
I don't deserve
(Or do I?)
Some days
I see nothing
Feel less
I can't help it
(Can I?)
Some days
I watch TV
It's easy
All I'm good for
(Is that right?)
Some days
I gloom
And pick my head
It annoys me
(So why's that?)
Then some days
I write and
Write and
It never amounts to
(Nothing right?)
And some days
I just try
To be normal
But that won't work
(It never does)
So some tired days
I don't try
Anything
I just play dead
(And I'm quite good at it)
RF 1998?
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11 comments:
Nicely structured and thoughtful piece.
You smile, I smile, Hope.
Thanks, Jim. You like, I smile again.
And so it was worth posting it after all. It always is.
x
Some days / Words appear / Like presents / I don't deserve.
Indeed. And never asked for.
The more of your works that I read, the more I suspect that we just might be kindred spirits.
Oh Susan! My first instinct is to say 'you poor thing'...but that's silly, isn't it? A person can be too annoying with the self-criticism...
Thanks for reading.
x
And David...do we ask though or don't we? I don't know (see post above!).
x
Like the poem, clear and precise, and personal.
It is amazing how useless we feel, stifled with ennui, days or months used up by our apparent worthless cause or our feelings of inadequacy.
I'm going to tackle to headache post now. Give me time.
Thanks McG. I'm not sure you should waste your precious youthful energy reading my middle-aged tales of confusion (the post above)...just think of that time you will never get back!
x
On reading,instantly became one of my fav RF poems.
Now I'm really glad I posted it Dominic! I was thinking about this poem today as I walked around Montrose (Small Girl at dance practice). I have to admit I like the last two lines (miserable and make-me-smile at the same time). Comedy and tragedy, highs and lows, the complete picture...
x
Do we ask for the words or don't we? I never do... they just come. It's my "job" to tart them up and make them look respectable. Even univited guests should be treated to some bespoke tailoring by their host.
And I try to be a good host. :)
Often fail though. :(
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