It's the end of the school year, I am in the middle of inventory, ready to grade AP Final projects, have not yet written this week's poem for my poetry workshop, and need to prepare for my YA writer's workshop this Saturday. I need more to do!
NOT.
This morning I dreamed a complete poem to write for Diane's workshop this week, and in my half sleep it sounded fantatsic. Can I remember any of it? Nope.
I have tons of great opening lines.
Like:
By the my father and brother died
I was an expert at sudden death.

Or
Losing weight is like excavating for dinosaur bones.

For a long time she idolized salt like it was Salt God

And these could be titles:
The orange flower of afternoon
Ordinary things worth saving
The brief history of butter
But my brain stops after a few syllbles. Maybe I need a reboot. So Diane,and my fellow poets in workshop, I apologize ahead of time for writing the crappiest poem you will see in a long, long time.
Happy Writing.