I had two things on  my  to  do list for this weekend, and as of this morning they were both undone: to  finish my ‘Rheets 2016: The Year from Hell’ book (Rheets is  rhyming tweets), and to  write a poem.

But, the Rheets book was basically done, all  I  had  to  do was turn it  over to Helena for the formatting and then a final proofreading and off to Amazon it goes, and they are usually pretty  quick  about getting it published.  We didn’t actually finish, there were some last minute computer glitches, but we’ll get it tomorrow, no problem.  Pressure’s off.  Really, it was never so much pressure, but the procrastination was becoming chronic.

Plus, I did write a poem this morning, although it wasn’t the one  I’d planned on writing.  The one that I’d planned on writing, which I’ve had in my mind since Wednesday, started on the train, something about how we may be just a cog in  a great machine, but what a magnificent machine, and we may be only pawns in the game of life, but a very insistent pawn eventually becomes a machine, and it’s the rhyme between machine and queen that I  like but I’m kind of stumped.  I’ve got the beginning, I’ve got the  end, I don’t have the middle and the middle is the  key, it’s the cherry in the chocolate, the  free  toy that you  buy the whole box of cereal for.
The one I  did write was a response to someone who responded to the  news of  ice geysers and possible life on Encepheladus, a moon  of  Saturn, by saying ‘We shouldn’t go  there, we screw up everything we touch,’ and I hate that  attitude, the idea that we could  just turn off our natural curiosity, our desire to  find out what’s going on in the universe.

So, I wrote a little poem about the eternal spirit of exploration, but I’m not  so  sure anybody will get it, out  of context.  Also, added a  new post to Poems About Paintings today, which has become an all too rare occurrence.


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