While I promise this book writing and publishing blog will not turn into a poetry blog, I felt I left you with a rather intense image with yesterday’s post/poem and thought a little word play might lighten things up.
I wrestle a noun
I wrestle a noun till it yells “Uncle,”
Lasso a verb and reel it in.
Tussle with tenses,
Find a few prepositions
Within a box in a closet under the stairs.
Can’t resist and reach for the stars
Where I nab a sparkly adjective
Despite Frank Conroy’s warning,
“Don’t touch that.”
And oh-those-tempting adverbs.
Slowly, hesitantly,
I turn away
And they whisper “Take me” “use me”
Until I can no longer bear it.
Reluctantly, I reach for one, no two, no three.
It can’t be helped.
More nouns, verbs, toss in a couple of prepositions
and one conjunction to hold it all together:
Poetry Soup.
To think I started with only a stone.
