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I hesitate to share much of anything with anyone. I’m downright selfish when it comes to sharing Matchbox cars, especially ones like this. Most days I’m sent to the corner and warned with a finger in my face. Wait, that’s…nevermind.
The truth is, I’m making progress in my work-in-progress–though it could be classified as the slowest progress ever made in anything, including the 405 construction project that will only end with the arrival of aliens–and I suddenly feel the need to share a poem from my current manuscript. The poem could stand alone, I guess, but it would make a whole lot more sense in its proper context, which is IN the book. But I’m not sharing the details of the book with you and I’m definitely NOT sharing the book with you. Yet.
I’m writing 10 original poems for my current middle grade manuscript. Somewhere between 5-7 poems will make the cut for the final book. The poems will be revealed as the main character finds them *hint,hint* You can skim the poem, dissect it, laugh at it, throw Jolly Ranchers at it, or smile and mumble to yourself about not understanding poetry and how it’s a waste of time. Sometimes I don’t get poetry either. Whatever you do, do NOT kick your computer in the face. Then you’ll have no screen and no internet and we’ll have no means to communicate about poetry we don’t understand.
Without further ramblings, the aforementioned poem:
the ashes of yesterday
it blows down the valley
through ribbons of smoke
past rivers of hope
to the reaches of where it
begins
there we are
standing above what could be
and what will become of us
no one knows what will cease
what will continue
what will commence
what lies beyond
that ribbon of smoke
that river of hope
no one knows
and it will make us live
and live again
and live until
there is nothing
left but the ashes
of yesterday
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