Some poetry Blake did aka 7 months?!
No jokes here folks. Well, maybe one at the end.
I’ve been posting to my Substack since February. That’s seven months of consistent writing! Amazing! Also amazing; I’m not slowing down. If anything, I’m gearing up for more cool stuff for this space!
Knowing I have my feet under me as far as this Substack goes I thought I’d try some new stuff. Friends have been asking if I’ll post more traditional writing, both fiction and non-fiction, which I hadn’t thought about until they asked.
My friend reminded me of the Writing Cafe night I used to attend. The person who started it would have poetry prompts in case you didn’t have anything to write about. At this time I hadn’t attempted to write poetry in years and honestly hadn’t considered anything that wasn’t D&D sessions.
One night I heard a prompt that caught my attention and I knocked out a poem I didn’t think was very good. The host convinced me to read it at their no-pressure Open Mic and I got compliments for just being brave. That put me into a poetry writing kick that lasted a couple months. I’ve been trying to write in more styles since then. I typically save EVERYTHING I write, including the poems. Here are a couple that simultaneously fit in a blog format and I’m happy to share with y’all, the readers!
The Writing on the Wall
The writing is on the wall.
You don’t see the writing;
not before you move in.
You see the writing after everything is gone.
When the shelves of dusty books are boxed up.
And the faded, curling wallpaper is torn down.
And the layers of cracked paint are scraped away.
You see the writing on the wall.
After the work;
After the effort;
After the sacrifices.
But hey, you know how it goes,
after all, hindsight is 20/20.
Wait, What?
I have a favorite childhood birthday.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
There was a big party and a huge water balloon fight.
It was the Fall of ‘96.
Wait, no, that was someone else’s party.
Kyle’s? Stephanie’? No, no…huh.
…
Right!
It was ‘94! That’s the year with the water balloon party.
Or was that ‘93? How old was I then?
There was a blizzard earlier that year. Or maybe it was later that year.
Shoot. Was the party a year later?
Was it third or fourth grade?
It’s all sort of a blue. But it was distinct then.
Maybe it was ‘95…
That’s it for the poetry today. I’m looking forward to the new things I’m trying here and how to maximize the Substack platform. I also promised a joke in the sub header, so…uh…Oh, this one’s a classic!
A man walks into a bar. “Ouch!”