Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Chasing Dreams

I wrote this after a particularly grueling day of teaching. Maybe I was just following my heart.



Poetry has more zing than writing ordinary prose,
No punctuation, sentence structure, or grammar correctness
To deal with,
End that thought with a preposition and dangle that modifier,

But poetry ages with time,
Like a loaf of stale bread or lumpy milk,
It can be subjective-like the first time,
Or ethereal-a real spiritual experience.

What do clouds taste like?
Are eyes dark pools?
Describe a million bucks,
Or a sore knee.

Teaching is safe and understood by millions,
Writing is an unknown.
Teaching can be profitable and sometimes noble,
Writing never is.

To be a writer is to loose your grip on reality.
Maybe that is what I am afraid of.


© 2007
Sharon D. Schroeder

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