Day 80: Pardon my intrusion, but may I wish you a happy Common Courtesy Day? May I also wish you a happy World Poetry Day? Because it would be my great pleasure to do so.
I cannot profess I am a poet. I am more of a rhymer, which makes me chuckle because we have friends whose last name is Rhymer. I wonder if any of them are poets? In any case, as with everything else, I occasionally dabble in poetry, just for the fun of it. Here’s a short one I call Palms Pressed:
I look down in my lap And jump, aghast. Old woman's hands Are clasped in repose, Nestled there, like they belong. When did these replace the hands, Smooth and delicate, Whose palms pressed against My sweetheart's? And cradled newborns To my chest? Aghast. I'm simply aghast To find them replaced By these.
I wrote it during church—probably not the best use of my attention during church, but not the worst, either. And it didn’t rhyme! Classy.
Since it is still Shakespeare Week, here is a sample of his much classier work (even though it rhymes): “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.”
I hope you have a lovely day, worthy of a sonnet or two. After all, it’s always polite to listen, even if you don’t understand. True for poetry, and just about everything else, too. Thank you very much for your time.
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