I have no stomach for the terse I told myself. I don’t want to do Skeltonic verse. It feels like writing with two left metrical feet.
So this is not Skeltonic verse, but somehow the words still came out a bit terse. Damn, those dipods! Anyway, the last of my notebook’s pages were filled today. I will have to open a new one for the last of NaPoWriMo2017.
To My Notebook
Nearly full
First draft
Authoring of my life
Between Autumn Equilux ‘15
And Bealtaine ‘17
Four square, blank pages
Covered in inimitable scrawl
Graffittied book of days
Spontaneous sputterings
With ink
Some stressing, some blessing
Some poetry
This is prayer
So Sam the Man
Says, in short
Full, with lists
Of Martha’s musts
And Mary’s musings
Her always tricking around
With words
All those
Beautiful words
Which, I hope
I will never ever
Lose
Notebook,
Keep them safe
Aide memoire
Confessor
Poet prentice
All filled
With the ragbag random
Like a Lifer
Marvelling at the crunch
Underfoot of fallen leaves
Sojourning Smith 