Some days it's far too windy
to sail on the bay alone.
Some days there is no wind at all
so I may as well stay at home
Some days make you want to sail
when you should be doing laundry.
Tuesday was a day like that.
Some days I just goof around
and have no plan at all.
Some days I do random practice
like this day when I did it all.
Some days I want to work on a single skill.
It's just another way to train.
Tuesday was a day like that.
Some skills evade me after all these years
like roll tacks in light air.
Some coaches have tried to teach me the tricks
but I really can't remember where.
Some things I have to learn by trial and error
until they are as familiar as eating cornflakes.
Tuesday was a day like that.
Some places are cold and shifty
like Newport on a winter's day.
Some places are full of sailing friends
like Bristol after work on Tuesday.
Some places are remote and lonely
like the Sakonnet River near Fogland Beach on a summer morning.
Tuesday was a day like that.
Some posts are angry
and on others I just ramble.
Some posts are so darned silly
that my readers want to scramble.
Some days I just scribble bad poetry
with lines that go on and on that I never should have written.
Today was a day like that.
In memory of William Topaz McGonagall.
3 comments:
I'm not really sure what this post is about, but I think that's the whole point of truly awful poetry. You've managed to obscure the main theme beautifully.
I realize you may have ulterior motives in trying to defend for Britain McGonagall's title of Worst English Language Poet, but I'm still doing what I can to claim it for America.
Thank you O Docker. I don't really understand poetry but I think one of the essential elements of good poetry is that the author tries really hard to obscure the main theme. Does that mean that I succeeded in writing a good poem and that this poem isn't truly awful?
Perhaps if I had had a recurring line after every verse that stated the theme it would have been more awful?
you won't make this a writing project, will you?
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