Wow. This poem feels so different from the poetry I am writing right now.

It almost feels like this is from someone else. Someone who speaks cleanly and confidently, who uses metaphor to think about life out loud and has a clear and easily stated thesis at the heart of the poem.

The metaphor here is straight at you—life is like being on a ship at sea. If the knot that holds you anchored comes undone, you will be adrift.

The message is also clearly stated: untie the knot that is keeping you from meaningful discovery and stop worrying about trying to be better.

I regret that I did not always write commentaries about my poems when they were posted. I really want to hear myself speak about this poem, where it came from, what drove me to write it.

It was one of the first fifteen poems written for the site, fifteen poems written intentionally to be a part of what I felt the site was in my head.

And what was that intention? It was to speak clearly to an audience that might be wary of poetry, to an audience that appreciated poems they could “get” on a first reading, an audience that I hoped would quickly find me, would quickly grow, a growth that would give my poetry writing momentum.

That’s not how I see the site anymore. I have found a smaller audience and a different voice. I have found my own momentum from writing driven internally through careful practice and a focus on craft that may or may not be picked up on a first read.

In fact, that might be the biggest difference in the genesis of my poems—I am not concerned that a particular poem must be instantly discernible.

And yet my current writing is not intentionally about complicating a poem.

Here is a good example of a poem that isn’t trying to be complicated but that has much more depth than “Better is the bitter end.”

What it is

It sounds like he’s pawed
biscuits off the table again
but no, it’s just his bed,
shaken by his head. He’s

excited it might be the day,
no—for him—the moment
it snows again and I open 
the door to an endlessity

to chase it down without
preamble, then run it back
again and again, again
until I ruin it for him, and yell,

“Oh what a glorious day it is!”
and in we go, though only
after he shakes it free, the
way dogs do, covered in water—

or as it happens now, snow—
going in, where it’s warm and
where—if I carry it off—glory
is more than its adjective.

You can read my commentary on this poem here and see that there is a lot more going on in “What it is” than “Better is the bitter end.”

I am not more proud of either poem, though. I think that each poem has merit and I am glad that I was able to find the time to write both of these poems.

Because I can’t, regretfully, always find that time.

Speaking of time, thank you for finding the time to read my poetry blog. I appreciate it so much.

Here’s the picture that the WP AI suggested for my featured image:

Well, the poem must not be that directly understandable, huh.