An Ode To The Close Of Poetry Month

This won’t really be as much of an ode as it will be a list. But tell me, what sounds more poetic? An ode to poetry month, or a list to poetry month. Thank you.

I’ve been rather absent from this space this month (let me guess...you haven’t noticed), but I’ve been busy with National Poetry Month activities. And now that April is coming to a close, I hope to have more time to devote to blogging.

After writing my brilliant “Roses are red” poem to begin the month, and having it favorably critiqued by a real live Ph.D. of English professorology (even if she was just being polite *ahem*), I knew I had to do more. I had to make the month count.

So. Here, in no particular order, are a few of the myriad ways I’ve been celebrating, promoting, and ode-ing National Poetry Month.

• Gently nudged everyone with whom I came in contact to begin pronouncing it “poh-emm” instead of “pome.” (This act cost me serious Guy Points.)

• Attempted to spend the entire month rhyming my activities as I went about the business of my day. Therefore, I haven’t eaten any oranges, or sat on any sofas, or purchased any items that were silver or purple.

• Drew up a set of plans to build a mending wall, being careful to ask what I’d be walling in. Or walling out. And to whom I was like to give offense. The project is still in blueprint stage.

• Met a guy on the street named Sam, and invited him over for some green eggs and ham.

• During my walks around the village, I approached everyone I saw and asked, “How do I love thee?” which got me dozens of confused stares, two threats with garden shovels, and one marriage proposal.

• Began writing my own original poem called, “Jabberwookie,” but decided against finishing it for fear of legal action from George Lucas. And Lewis Carroll.

• Met a girl on the street from Nantucket, and invited her over for some green eggs and ham as well.

• Attempted to use the term “iambic pentameter” at least three times a day. This is not an easy task in standard barroom conversation.

• Sounded my barbaric yawp through the village, and was promptly cited for a noise violation. (The price we pay sometimes in the name of art.)

• Stayed up until midnight one dreary night, and as I looked outside I pondered. I hadn’t eaten much that day so I was rather weak...and weary.

• Stumbled upon two roads that diverged in a wood, and took the one more traveled. And you know...it really hasn’t made much of a difference.

So tell me...how did you spend your National Poetry Month?

 

“The greatest poem is not that
which is most skillfully constructed,
but that in which there is
the most poetry.”
— L. Schefer