Each month, write a new collection.
I could neverdrawart was not inmelogic, systematicthinkingmade more senseto meengineering draftingwas theintersection of artand logicform meets beauty
I would love to see your visual art man! You have to do this!
My art is like my poetry - minimal. The little face I have for my Facebook profile most of the time (which by the way was what my first book 5 lines was referring to), and a little line drawing cat I use for my Facebook profile sometimes which will be the only piece of art on my next book (I've seen the cover), and the heart logo for Kevin Ridgeway's new press.
I can't wait to see that man!
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Juegos de VideosI hate video gamesAnd video games hate meBecause I can never understand themFor they fail to instruct me.
I used to use them to zone out. I could have done a whole month of poems on video games.
That would be a great collection!
A CapacityOne's capacity can be measuredBy one's strength of momentumPresent prior to acquiring a certain skillOr depth of perception.I would sayThat I surprised myself with,Never conceived of,Or even imaginedMy ability To endure the things that I have And still survive.
Patience by Melinda SmootThere's a joke tossed around within my church-- if you ask for patience, the good Lord above will place you in situations that consistently test this attribute. Want patience? Try to merge in stopped traffic on the 405 and watch as the subwoofing Camaro blocks just an inch of space you could have used to ease your left blinker into. Or, even better, stand in line of five people at the bank while the one available bank teller is being berated by a walking prune. Every suited employee that passes you assures you the teller will be with you shortly. Not like they can’t operate a computer behind a window also—that would be too convenient. And you only have thirty minutes to spare anyway. These are the beginning exercises.The next level of patience exists when instructing and interacting with children. My sister, a school teacher, advised, “Say what you want to see!” But children thirst to be successful and often out perform your simple requests. I say “Move your back foot. Keep your front foot stuck where it is” and both feet move. I say “block with the hand you punched with”, and they will consistently not do so. I say “walk please” and they whiz by me as if I were blockading a path to the ice cream truck. When I was younger, I wanted nothing to do with teaching—especially if it meant teaching children. Now, I am told by my family, “You seem like you’d be a good school teacher”; “You’re extremely patient with kids!” I don’t know how much I buy the former, but I can now survive four hours with children talking, grabbing, sitting on and hugging me, their tiny voices repeating whatever I say or following any requests with “Why?”. I suppose I have leveled up, because I typically play along with their games too.
I love this. I know you're new to poetry, but you're going in and doing prose poetry!
Also, it's really good!