The last couple of blog entries make it seem like my poetic life is absolutely stellar but the truth is that I am just as lost as I have ever been. Answers are coming easily. The equations that once seemed like concrete algebra are turning into a complex quantum formula full of imaginary numbers.
Case in point: I was asked to write a poem for a professional development meeting. The parameters were pretty well defined, or as well defined as they could be; something inspirational regarding persistence over time, the value of hard work and its not so immediate rewards and place the poem in an educational setting. Well, after a bit of research and a restless night that had bits of lines running through my head, I woke up early and enjoyed a real long shower but had no poem to show. All was good as I was asked to read a poem from a book. Pretty good one, too. (Note to self: Look up said poem.) And while I know “a poem is not a pop tart” I was still highly disappointed in myself.
The day was not a complete poetic waste as I was able to produce a sonnet based on Pablo Neruda’s Soneto LXXV, which speaks of home and emptiness. For my sonnet I added more about silence and laughter because, well, life is all kinds of good like that despite small disappointments.