This poem was made in a chilly library on a sudden rush of inspiration which is the key to all great poems, it seems to me. The inspiration is the attitude!
I’m rowing home.
Someone on a dock
attracts fish with a pair of lanterns.
I can’t tell in the dimming air
if it’s Hank or his summer renter.
I pull the oars
and think of the lover
I have not met.
She’s in some minor city five states away?
I wonder if she struggles
with thoughts of her lover-to-come.
I vision her as infinitely poetic,
able to make anything real.
She crafts a blue daisy
or a silver wheel; she quiets time.
A radio’s going in her front room
as she closes her eyes,
follows the smallest lights in a sky.
Perhaps her stars are following me
as I’m rowing, rowing.
**** What I realized as I wrote that poem:
You have to fall in love with a new piece as you brew it up. In love as it’s almost finished or maybe just almost presentable, a thing you could read to your mate and still treasure if she doesn’t like the poem! It may be be attacked, half dismantled, nearly stripped of its strange new thoughts, its precious insanity. A good poem is made with great passion – then revised with care.
*** Friends, what do you learn from writing or reading poems? We’d love to hear from you. ***