Day: August 22, 2020

The clown on stilts

With the little dog

On the long leash

Was put in charge

Of my writing

The awards began

One after another

I thought I was dreaming

That happens

True to form

I was, but

Now I walk around

With my head high

Knowing that success

Is a possibility and

The feeling

Won’t go away

I honor the dream

Go to the circus

Every year

When it’s in town

The funny thing is

I look for that clown

I did see a kid on stilts

It wasn’t my clown and

He had a dog

I’m still writing

Stanski

August 22, 2020 ^

Two o’clock in the morning

Pen is running dry

Ideas are not forming

Yet you want to try

Not ready to admit

It’s probably time to quit

You think perhaps a sonnet

Or maybe a haiku

Don’t want to be redundant

Has to be something new

You hear the seconds ticking

You write words you’re picking

It starts to come along

A sort of futile effort

To show that you belong

Which would be a comfort

You know all the rules

Why do they seem so cruel?

Just a few more lines

Then I’ll have one more

A style you can’t define

But one that doesn’t bore

Willingly forgo quality

By favoring quantity

Stanski

August 22, 2020 ^