Not a haiku today, just something that popped into my head – partly inspired by a photo of myself on Facebook from seven years ago, which I hadn’t seen before.
That’s how it goes, I think of something, and then I write it down (or not). I don’t really put any work into it. It just happens (or it doesn’t). So sometimes I share it, and sometimes I don’t.
I suspect there will be a lot of this stuff this month (unless I give up). I was trying to remember the word for oil when it’s first extracted, before they refine it, then it came to me: ‘crude’. I don’t think ‘Crude poetry’ conveys quite the right meaning, so I’ll stick with ‘raw’.
NaPoWriMo 2 (No title)
Nearly a grandmother,
wasn’t I too old
to start again?Why do I go back,
Endlessly filleting
the years that were?I’ll never change the past,
The present’s hard enoughSunny days beside one river,
Linda Rushby 2 April 2020
or another.
Mornings on a beach.
What’s here is now,
Another spring.
