Ahead and Behind

I suppose it was there all the time ... an ability, on occasion, to say something that sort of had the sound of poetry ... something that, while alien, perhaps, to the formal, prescribed structure and style of real poetry, had an element that conjured up poetic images for the reader ... or listener.

I began writing these things for myself. They usually came to me during my daily walks. When I got back home, I would sit for a few minutes at the kitchen table, scribbling away.
Then I began sharing these scribblings with Phyllis. She liked them ... at least said she did ... and encouraged me to keep writing.
I did keep writing, and writing, and writing ... and, though today's poem is a bit of an exaggeration ... poetic license, you know ... it does sometimes seem that I've gotten ahead on my writing ... behind on everything else.
Meanwhile, the poem:



AHEAD AND BEHIND

For many years

I wouldn’t venture

into this strange
realm of poetry,
but then, like
a water-loving dog
finding a pond,
I plunged in,

can’t be coaxed

back out, and I’m

paddling around,
getting slowly
ahead on poetry,
way behind on
everything else.

© 2001

(originally published in Capper's)

***

Today's word: paddling

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
Take comfort in knowing that you're not alone in that department, Magran. It seems like only yesterday that I started out feeling full of vim and vinegar, determined to make a lot of headway on the stacks of things waiting patiently for my return ... but it didn't turn out that way ... and I'm afraid to look now ... I know I've fallen farther behind ... on everything, it seems. Among other things, I let myself fall behind on my responses to readers ... and I apologize for that. I know you'll understand ... and I'll be given another chance ... but I apologize. And now ... back to the stacks!