So, now that the Drive For 365 is over, and my original poetry blog A Pocket Full Of Poesy has been declared officially to be a Poem-A-Day(-On-Average)-Blog, I can slack off a bit for the remainder of '09 and just enjoy the feeling of triumph. Now, some might say: "Bull shit. 94 poems in a 15-day stretch? Including at one point 44 poems in 24 hours?? All while maintaining a very specific level of quality! There's no way you composed all those poems you've been posting. Surely not in so short a span!" So the accusation goes.
Well EAT IT, buddy, because I have and I did. No banned substances, no performance enhancing drugs, well maybe a little fine red wine or a tipple or two of golden suds, but of such libations are the poetic stuffs traditionally made! Poets are notorious drunks. Ain't no shame there. I mean, as long as you're a poet with it. You can't just be a drunk with no excuse, you need a creative angle with a sort of a spiritual side, to give it that heroic aspect.
Furthermore, rumors that all these poems (clearly all with my inimitable stamp, for those who have eyes to see) sprang forth, not from the present-day fecund fecundity of my fecund mind, but rather from say some old high-school creative writing notebook of mine that I just unearthed - WELL, NOPE. Every one of those poems was either fresh from scratch, or forged whole from meager materials set inside in drafts from earlier in 2009, drafts that have only just now been completed! And let me tell you, those drafts were mostly nowhere close to done, or I'd have just published them at the time. Most of them were less than sketches. Barely ideas. Okay, two were pretty much done. But the point is: they needed work. And I got in there with my poetic hammer and tongs and made metaphorical shit into literal diamonds, albeit, I do exaggerate there. I wouldn't say they were shit. But I exaggerate to make a point: none of what I just posted has been old, just dug-up stuff.
Still, the timing of that last accusation is apt. In that I did just happen to find my old high school creative writing notebook. So in 2010, maybe I will mix a few of those in. Ease the load a bit, keep myself from putting myself in a situation where I have to make this big impressive run to hit the year's goal.
Anyhow, a lot of people also look at the way I brag and boast and say, dude, a bit unseemly for a poet. To which I reply: who's your role model for a poet? Mine's Mohandas Dewese.
So what that let you know.
Well EAT IT, buddy, because I have and I did. No banned substances, no performance enhancing drugs, well maybe a little fine red wine or a tipple or two of golden suds, but of such libations are the poetic stuffs traditionally made! Poets are notorious drunks. Ain't no shame there. I mean, as long as you're a poet with it. You can't just be a drunk with no excuse, you need a creative angle with a sort of a spiritual side, to give it that heroic aspect.
Furthermore, rumors that all these poems (clearly all with my inimitable stamp, for those who have eyes to see) sprang forth, not from the present-day fecund fecundity of my fecund mind, but rather from say some old high-school creative writing notebook of mine that I just unearthed - WELL, NOPE. Every one of those poems was either fresh from scratch, or forged whole from meager materials set inside in drafts from earlier in 2009, drafts that have only just now been completed! And let me tell you, those drafts were mostly nowhere close to done, or I'd have just published them at the time. Most of them were less than sketches. Barely ideas. Okay, two were pretty much done. But the point is: they needed work. And I got in there with my poetic hammer and tongs and made metaphorical shit into literal diamonds, albeit, I do exaggerate there. I wouldn't say they were shit. But I exaggerate to make a point: none of what I just posted has been old, just dug-up stuff.
Still, the timing of that last accusation is apt. In that I did just happen to find my old high school creative writing notebook. So in 2010, maybe I will mix a few of those in. Ease the load a bit, keep myself from putting myself in a situation where I have to make this big impressive run to hit the year's goal.
Anyhow, a lot of people also look at the way I brag and boast and say, dude, a bit unseemly for a poet. To which I reply: who's your role model for a poet? Mine's Mohandas Dewese.
So what that let you know.
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