Thirty days

Thirty days of poetry is a heck of a feat. Thirty days of alphabet poetry is something even more.

I can hear it now, the chorus of people asking, “More what?”

But you know something? I don’t know. It’s just more. More of a pain, more of a triumph. More exciting, more maddening. It’s just more, okay?

I wasn’t sure I’d do it. I wasn’t sure I’d make it. But here I am, thirty days later, with a few more poems under my belt and a sense of accomplishment I haven’t felt in a while. It’s a good feeling.

What about you – what have you been up to these last thirty days? How have the last thirty days changed you?

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.

When…

When all is said and done,
When you are dead and rotten,
Will you be mourned for all you’ve done,
Or for all that you have gotten?

When all is said and done,
When all you are is ash,
Will you be missed for what you’ve done,
Or for being over brash?

When all is said and done,
When you are but a memory,
Will you be recalled for fun,
Or for being absentee?

(c) 2017. All rights reserved.