I’m chipping away at this new poem about balance. It ruminates on the difficulties in getting to that place, either mentally or physically, where one can be creative. There’s a lot to life that doesn’t always make sitting down to write so easy. Also, I’ve had a few of my friends read these poems and the common critique is that they need an intro, some backstory to set the scene. That’s what I’m working on now with this one but here’s where I am at with it. I’ll post the finished version when its complete.
Did Ernest Hemingway wait to write in order to do the dishes at night?
Did Jimmy Page stop his shredding to concern himself with proper bedding?
Did Michael Jordan leave behind the team to empty out the washing machine?
Did Che Guevara blow off an insurgent because he had to run out for laundry detergent?
Did Mike Tyson quit his practice punches to make his kid’s hot school lunches?
Can someone tell me if these gentleman so majestic have paused their craft to be so domestic?
“I must pause at my canvas” says Clyford Stils “to pay a bevy of online bills.”
“I must stop the jam,” says Bob Weir, “to clean the toothpaste off the mirror.”
“I must lay down my guitar,” says Slash ,” in order to take out tomorrow’s trash.”
“I must delay my treatise,” says Aristotle, “to warm up milk for the baby’s bottle.”
“I must pause la vida loca”, says Ricky Martin “to let the dog out cause he keeps fartin.”
This is the meat of the poem but it needs a intro and an ending. Until next week…..