This is hard.
For all these years I thought poetry involved rhyme
And it does
And it’s easy
Rhyme isn’t hard,
I can do it in my yard
On a tree,
about a bee meeting a flee next to the sea
See I can rhyme well, but about what?
Rhyming involves timing
Rhyming is easy.
But poetry isn’t just rhyme,
I’m learning that now.
Rhyming is for childhood to which I no longer belong
In body; but never in mind for I will always be a child at heart and at thought
-That was close.
I feel differently now that I’m older
–I suddenly feel the urge to say something about a boulder–but I won’t!
I can’t, those days are in the past,
And now is the present; and the beginning of this poem, this thing, this mass of life and words,
is in the past,
And the next line is in the future
And now is the present–the present that I give to you if only you will take it, if only you’ll see something in it–something that maybe I might see
It has passed now but don’t forget it
Don’t forget it because I wrote it as a tribute, a testimony to my effort,
I’m learning, I’m growing, I’m trying
It’s not that hard, it’s not as if I’m dy–it’s not as if I’m dying.
I’ll keep at it.