Today’s prompt was to write a long line poem (17 syllables-ish). As always the poem took on its own life. To me, this is one of the greatest mysteries and joys of being a poet. Poems are living things.
rummage sales and rodeos
i relish the rhythm of rummage sales and rodeos for reasons
known and unknown. the freeing feeling of cleaning cupboards and claiming
a few coins in return. everyone needs to slough off the dry, dead skin:
a necessary step for growth. and after, when the road is rough and seems
impossible, remember few things feel as good as a successful
ride on a wild, bucking bronco; the prize always goes to endurance.
and yet I savor the release,
the pure freedom found in free falling.
relishing rummage sales and rodeos–cleaning out and hanging on–
a perplexing enigma, a mysterious wonder and a truth.