Here’s a weird thing. I had to get up at 3:40 PST Monday am. I was in the taxi by 4:00. And on the way to the airport I wrote a poem.
I don’t write poems. Have only written four of my own free will until this one. I don’t mean only four good ones. I mean the poetic impulse has only descended upon me four times in my life until the taxi ride. It makes me wonder what I’m missing by not getting up in the middle of the night.
~
So… where’s the poem? And… I enjoy writing poems. I have no idea if they’re any good, but I enjoy the different way language words in (my) poems. Good for you!
The poem is going to stay where it landed 😳
Very interesting, it might be a sign …?
🙂
It may be a sign, but I just can’t see doing it on a regular basis 😳
I’m not sure what impressed me more: that you got out the door in 20 minutes or that you could write poetry in a taxi. I’m not a poet either, but when the leaves turn or nature overwhelms me with her beauty, I find that poetry best captures my emotions. Simple prose is too prosaic.
Hahaha, Sarah. And it hasn’t happened to me enough to know what exactly sparked it.