Last summer I was trying to write a poem a day, usually something simple and often silly, and often a haiku at the suggestion of a book I was reading called Life is a Verb. (I think that phrase would make a great bumper sticker or tshirt!) I just unearthed one of the journals from that time, and so should bravely "publish" one of the poems. Of course, this compulsion could be in a similar vein as those who insist on doing extended karaoke at crowded bars...but here goes...

Poem #23 (as if I'm Emily Dickinson or something!)

Still turkey tableau
Flock the car and admire self
Peck, too, reflection.

From August, near the end of the experiment, I'm afraid:

Some days are not poetic.
Nor do they fit into a syllabic pattern.
Some days are like fog.
Some days are blue skies.
Some days life and love seems to swell up in my soul
And other days...not!