I’m Going To Finish This Poetry Nonsense, Even Though Mom Thinks It’s Rubbish

Honestly, why couldn’t Shakespeare turn his sonnets into decent plays? The money was there, Bill! I may be wrong, but poetry is just a bunch of extra text that could’ve been squeezed into a paperback. And the notion is supported by my mother’s recent take on my attempt to jam 30 poems in 30 days with National Poetry Writing Month:

I got all excited when I saw the church at Dover. [My header photo] Then I read the poetry.  While you have skills, it just goes to prove my opinion that there ain’t no point to poetry. Sorry to disappoint …

Mom

Well, I don’t give up that easily. And yes, my poetry is stupid. And yes, I wouldn’t know what to do with a stanza if it came up and stole my wallet. But you can’t start what you can’t finish! There are 28 more days left to this roller coaster of insanity, and I’m dragging my three remaining readers along for the ride.

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