Write and Wrong

   October 2013

So.  I just want you to know I could write good poetry if I set my mind to it.  I think.  But here’s my explanation for writing as I often do:

Almost Free Verse

I like to write verse that rhymes
Because it comes to me that way
And it’s a lot of work to convert
That into something so simple
You have to search for its meaning.
Also, I hate to kill that instinct in people
To watch for certain rhythms
And for words that bring a climax
Of a sort because they sound like another
And complete a cycle of anticipation.

It’s true I don’t win prizes
Or kind words
From editors back east,
But kids like my stuff
And older people often rave
And say now that makes sense,
I like the way it sounds.

The sing-song verses
That my mother read to me
Could be her careful teaching
That nothing good is free.

You see?  I just can’t stop from eventually rhyming.  But, truth be known, simple rhymes about everyday topics are the ones that people ask for copies of.  (Because of age, I reserve the right to end a sentence with a preposition)

Here is one of those poems:

The Granny Nest

Now that I’m older
I have my own chair
That nobody sits in
But me . . they don’t dare.
And next to my chair
Is a very strong light . .
A window for daytime,
A floorlamp for night.

And next to my light
Is a very fine table
That’s loaded with thimbles,
A guide for the cable,
An emory board and
A nail undercoat,
My tissues, my fan,
My own TV remote,
A puzzle or two
With the answers in back,
A book of short stories,
Some fruit for a snack.

I’m no longer looking
For men or old geezers,
But always I’m looking
For glasses or tweezers,
My lotions, my letters,
The things I like best . .
So I’ve gathered them up
And I’ve built me a nest.

It’s here I create
With my needles and pins
And, when no one is looking,
Pluck hairs from my chins.

– Doris Markland

Note:  If you are Grandma, you are smiling.  If you are not Grandma please copy this and take it to her.  She will be smiling.

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