Sore Feet

Just got back from our next to last dance lesson and my  feet  are  sore and there’s nothing that really moves to write about  in  the politics  of  the day, maybe Kim Kardashian’s White House visit, which I don’t really see as a big  deal, lots  of  presidents have entertained celebrities who weren’t necessarily experts on government policy, the Clintons had plenty of Hollywood pals and Kennedy had Marilyn.  But, Kim Kardashian is there to talk policy and, it’s not unbelievable, because, shocking as it may sound, she’s on the  same intellectual level  as Trump.

One nice thing happened at the dance lesson.  I’ve been  in a bit of  a funk  lately as far  as the writing goes, haven’t written a good poem in a while and have started to doubt the worth of those that are out there but then, I was thinking about it while staggering around the floor, and the thing is, my poems have a value other than commercial, or how much they are read by other people.  Often, while writing, a certain line would come and it would actually be educational to me, help  me to see the world in a different light, and as soon as that thought came into my head, a little poem followed  it:

Writing rhyming poetry
for me, fulfills a basic need
because I’m trying to write the kind
of thing I know I’d like to read
and I always know that I have done
the very best I could
when I read it back again
and say “Hot damn! That’s pretty good!”

It ain’t exactly Shelley, but it happened in a moment, it cost nothing, one moment it did not  exist in the world  and then it did.  I love it when it happens like  that.

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