Poetry (Day 366): Zero Sum

So, here it is. The last day of my marathon.

I think there were four days where I missed a post. Once, I was in hospital. Once, I was working until midnight and posted a poem at about 12:30am. And yes, that leaves twice that I must have just plain forgotten. I remember one of those occasions, I can’t remember the other. But I made up for it every time with two poems soon after. (The next day on three occasions, about three days with the hospital thing, seeing I was recovering from pneumonia.)

All up, I’m going to say I succeeded. So, woo hoo. I did it.

Next year I’m going to do even better. I’ll make sure I don’t miss any… Huh, who am I kidding? There will be no next year. I intend to write more poetry, but my other writing has suffered because of the poetry so I’m not going to commit to anything at all. Maybe it will be more like one a week or something.

Either way, today is your last chance to enter the competition. (Okay, I’ll give you until the end of the January). Reblog, share or tweet any of my posts or comment to go in the draw. I haven’t started working on the illustrations yet, but it will happen as soon as I finish the current draft of my latest book. A few weeks, hopefully. So, while you are waiting for that, you could go and check out my novels on Amazon. I like to think they are well worth the money.

Or just come and say hello. Tell me you poetic highlights for the year For those who have visited regularly, I thank you and I hope you keep coming back.

And here it is, poem number 366. I was going to do something about beginnings and endings, and it kinda is…

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Zero Sum

 

 

They say it is better
to die on your feet
than live on your knees.
But life, despair, hope
are not zero sum games
and you are
a long time dead.

Poetry (Day 365): Going Back

So, apparently, I had two Day 280’s. I’m just letting you know, in case you were worried or anything.– I’m not actually going to change anything (other than putting the right number today.)

 

And here is that correctly number poem for you.

 

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Going Back

 

Driving back to a place
that once, long ago,
felt like home.
Road winding past
the old mill, the
swimming hole, the
school. I knew it all
so intimately
when I was young,
like a prisoner knows every
brick of his cell. But now
the memories are just a movie,
playing unnoticed
in the background of my life.