Why There’s No More Poetry

Friends, I was going to share a poem for you, and did try to type it here for you all, because I thought that you would like it, as I did. I learned that formatting is a wicked thing, and WordPress is guilty of stealing my joy.

The poem that I was going to share was, “The Waking,” by Theodore Roethke, dating from the good year of 1953, and I thought that it would enhance my, “Wake Up With Susie” jive. Of course I could not reproduce it here, because that is just my luck. I think that I was born stupid, meaning, at a stupid time for my heart. Not that there’s anything so absolutely wonderful about 1953, but my “Modern Poetry” fascination has lingered with me, no matter what, since my fledgling adulthood.

I also can’t remember how to correctly cite poetry titles or verse, as you may have noticed. Please don’t forget that I have no call for writing papers any more, and I just serve customers all day. It’s a hard life.

Please remember, though, “I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.” It’s a lovely refrain from this poem that I guess you are just going to have to look up on your own.

Sometimes modernity kicks my ass, as there’s always something new, and it’s tough for me to keep up. I know, everybody likes it that way, and the Ninja children will all take care of me when I actually do get old. God willing. Perhaps an autistic child will be saddled with my care, and we can talk about old-timey things.

At least I have a dog and a cat, and my brain still works well enough to complain on a regular basis. There is also the cuteness factor, and sweetness, and innocence of my heart. That still does like poetry and art, you beasts.

#MentalHealth #ModernPoetry #Ohwell.

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