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  • Picking Back Up…

    Picking Back Up…

    From my apparently unrecoverable blog bitterhermit.wordpress.com

    The 1000 poem project was completed some time in 2013. Time to start another challenge. Perhaps a bit less ambitious? My day-job pays the bills, but sucks the soul out of me; I write in fits and starts these days. We’ll start with a hundred-poem challenge and see how that goes.

    Top of the Hour

    blurry eyed too close to waking

    allergy season – not a favorite time of year

    coffee calls, and I waft in on its aroma

    content in the kitchen to wake slowly

    14Sep2023

  • Yearend Challenge

    Today I challenge myself to write 100 poems by midnight 1 Jan 2024. During this challenge, I will forego alcoholic beverages and drink ginger-lemon tea instead. All poems will be blogged and sequentially numbered. Daily poems are expected; numbers deprioritized throughout the week must be made up on weekends. Minigoals: 12/4 20; 12/11 40total; 12/18 60t; 12/25 80t; 1/1/24 100t.
    Most poems are expected to be quatorzains, though not required (it merely follows the evidence as my forte).

    Poem 1
    Happiness is such a huge idea,
    But what is it, specifically? Is it
    An emotion? A mindset? A heart tuned
    To the favor of fortune, God, nature,
    Or specific higher powers unnamed?
    Is it pleasure prolonged? Joy unbridled?
    Perhaps merely security ensured?
    Such a broad range and deep is happiness.
    Joy is much simpler, I think. And as such
    More readily attained. What each is worth
    Certainly must remain a subjective
    Case. How attainable each certainly
    Must depend on mindset, for even those
    Sorely traumatized have sought and found both.

    Poem 2
    Despair is the dragon. Has it always
    Been? In childhood, dragons seemed plentiful
    As wasps and spiders – all the scary things
    That sting and burn and bite. Now adulthood
    Spills in on tides of years and washes clean
    The earth of most such fears. But despair, dark
    And cunning serpent that it is, curls up
    Within the deep shadows of unconscious
    Mind, the turbid depths of the heart, and lurks
    Await . . . death visits to rob us of dear
    Ones, and the beast arises to devour
    First our pretty red hearts, then our grieving
    Minds, takes hostage confidence and poisons
    All . . . how can we slay this dragon within?