Poetry in my life: An introduction

When I was in 8th grade I wrote a thousand lines of poetry. All rhyming, all to try and impress a girl (she wasn’t). Most of it was pretty bad, but it helped me cultivate a sense of meter and an appreciation for the well-chosen word and line.

I kept writing semi-regularly for a decade or so (still often to try and impress a girl, though sometimes more subtly than with straight-up love poems), then I started working for a large consulting firm, and being in a stable relationship left me not needing the outlet that poetry had provided. It gradually faded away as a part of my life. But part of why I left a high-paying corporate career with long hours and heavy travel was not wanting to become someone who only used to do interesting things. My wife is a published poet, and told me about April as “NaPoWriMo,” with the challenge of writing one poem per day during the month. I’m a few days behind, but will try to catch up. I still find myself drawn to structures, though I no longer feel the need to exclusively write in them.

Sap drawn from the trees
Carried by hand
Boils for hours on the stove
Sweetness remains

Dogs walk in the road
No one in sight
Trash thrown from a moving car
Crushes new growth

Herons fly above
Locusts and pines
Bringing pieces for the nest
One at a time.

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