All Poems Come to an End (for now)

I spent just about every morning in April writing poems. First, I would head to Bud the Teacher’s site, get inspired by the image that Bud would share, and then I would write. I’d often try to add a podcast, to give a little voice to my words, on Cinchcast, and after sharing the poem on Bud’s site, I would head over to our National Writing Project iAnthology site, for more sharing. There, we had about 20 people involved in the writing of poems. Not everyone wrote every single day, but there were a lot of poems being written, shared, talked about, and even used as inspiration for poetry responses (ie, one poem inspired another poem).

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I started to run out of poetic steam by the end of the month. I did. But I tried to write through those walls as best as I could, and while not every poem I wrote isĀ  a gem, there may be a few diamonds in the rough that could emerge as something better with a little work. My job now is go back, and see the poems through different eyes. What words are worth salvaging and refinishing?

My final poem for Bud was about coming to the end of PoemaDay.

I imagine my poems like leaves
falling behind with the seasons;
they burst into view
and become reborn again the following year
in the spring sunshine
of April
as something entirely new

Peace (in the poetry),

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