What Have I Done

I confess. I have become far too fond of Facebook. Let's face it. Throwing a virtual snowball is much easier than writing a blog entry that isn't totally embarrassing, and I love finding old friends and often ignored interests again. So when Theresa sent me the info about a Poem-A-Day, I skimmed it quickly and said, "Yeah, you can do this. It will be good for you." I went on about my life, and then after writing my blog entry tonight, I realized that PAD started today, the beginning of National Poetry Month.

Who am I kidding? I haven't written a poem a day since I was a teenager. This isn't going to be easy, and it sure as fire isn't going to be pretty, but I want to try this. Poetry calls to my writer's heart like nothing else does, and I don't give it enough attention. So a little over an hour ago, I started my first poem for the month. I just have to keep reminding myself that the important thing is to just write it. It doesn't have to be good. My poetry muscles need a workout, and I may have written this in under an hour, but I'm feeling the burn.

Origins

In the beginning,
there was the word.
And then there was the exit,
unwilling.

"I want" preceded
the crying babe,
leaving one woman
with empty arms
and another filled.
Both done and undone
by the word.

My genesis,
from the word I came.
To the words
I grow.
Such haphazard creation,
who knows what the word
will bring.