While sleepless, I did manage to be somewhat fruitful, crawling out to the computer and writing these for Poetry Friday hosted by Betsy at Teaching Young Writers. I don't know why, but poetry and poet tree and po-or tree kept floating through my mind. I stopped them for a bit to mull them over and try them out. So this is very early morning poetry...and there is no poet tree in sight. I am not sitting under it. I'm in the kitchen 'neath a bright o'erhead light. Oh, I'm tired. I need to breathe.
I'm posting this and then maybe sitting upright in the living room to fall asleep before the dawn's early light...which should be happening any minute now. Oh, no. I hear birds. It isn't even light yet, and the birds are awake...I'm doomed!
I sit by thee
and write a bit
I'm happy to be
I'm a little poet tree
Where poets come to sit by me
And wrestle with their poetry.
I wish that I had words as fruit
And ripened they'd fall at my root
And poets could pick ones that suit.
But I've no words so cannot try it
I only have some shade and quiet
I cannot help a poet write it.
I'm just a peaceful poet tree
Where fruitful poets sit by me
And words submit to poetry.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I'm out of here. Ear plugs for the birds. I mean for me... so the birds can't be heard. I don't even know where their ears are. I think the Mucinex is working. I'm breathing and sleepy.
PS: I wrote another poem that I will wait to post tomorrow. It isn't about a poet tree, thankfully.