Usually, my post for NWR is up and scheduled 2 weeks in advance. But this is national poetry month.
Lest you think I write poetry so that I can go to parties, sound like I should be living in a castle and bore people with my artsy-ness, that’s not why I write it. In fact, the closest I’ve ever come to a castle is White Castle, and I don’t like that place any better than the Vatican or Camelot.

YEATS vs.

MY STYLE OF POETRY
Edna St. Vincent Millay, I’m not. My candle may burn at both ends, too, but I guarantee that MY Pet Odor Eliminator candle will burn through the night.

HERE…HAVE A FEW CANDLES
Poetry.
If it isn’t fun
I don’t want to do it.
I write it for the same reason I go for a tea or a pee during the sex scenes in Outlander. When you’ve been married 5 times, there’s nothing in your body that hasn’t been touched explored. I’m as bored watching people do it on screen as I am watching people ride roller coasters. If I’m not doing it, I don’t want to watch someone else having all the fun.
But (as usual) alas, I digress.
Now, where was I? Oh, right. Poetry. I’m not much for long, drawn out depressive tomes where the writer is begging for death. By the time I’m half way through the damned things I’m screaming “Please, kill me now, take away the pain of reading this boring piece of crap!” Read the rest of this entry »