Poetry 181 is the name of my Dad’s blog on blogspot. He is a teacher and writer and is taking a sabbatical this year from January-June. For the 181 days of this break he will be writing, traveling and now posting a poem each day. Check it out!
Here’s a taste:
The young stay up later and later;
the old get up earlier and earlier.
Once a year they meet at midnight,
telling each other what they have forgotten
or what they need to know.
We reminisce to hold on to the past
or drink to let it go,
plan how the future will be different
or promise it will remain the same.
That illuminated ball is always
descending, but we only notice it
tonight when we turn to kiss
a spouse or a stranger with nothing
but now, now, now on our lips.
Eat less, exercise more.
Stop to smell the roses.
Write that novel.
Some pounds are shed,
only to return like the prodigal,
welcomed with the fatted calf.
Most roses have little fragrance.
And instead of a novel,
three short poems.