{"id":4282,"date":"2024-12-09T07:56:23","date_gmt":"2024-12-09T13:56:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/?p=4282"},"modified":"2024-12-09T07:56:23","modified_gmt":"2024-12-09T13:56:23","slug":"confessions-of-a-recovering-poet","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/confessions-of-a-recovering-poet\/","title":{"rendered":"Confessions of a recovering poet"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/wp-contentuploads\/2024\/12\/58578343_2203441159709133_4503231900860547072_n.jpg?ssl=1\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" decoding=\"async\" data-attachment-id=\"4283\" data-permalink=\"https:\/\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/confessions-of-a-recovering-poet\/58578343_2203441159709133_4503231900860547072_n\/\" data-orig-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/wp-contentuploads\/2024\/12\/58578343_2203441159709133_4503231900860547072_n.jpg?fit=850%2C400&amp;ssl=1\" data-orig-size=\"850,400\" data-comments-opened=\"1\" data-image-meta=\"{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}\" data-image-title=\"58578343_2203441159709133_4503231900860547072_n\" data-image-description=\"\" data-image-caption=\"\" data-large-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/wp-contentuploads\/2024\/12\/58578343_2203441159709133_4503231900860547072_n.jpg?fit=840%2C395&amp;ssl=1\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-4283\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/wp-contentuploads\/2024\/12\/58578343_2203441159709133_4503231900860547072_n.jpg?resize=840%2C395&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"\" width=\"840\" height=\"395\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/wp-contentuploads\/2024\/12\/58578343_2203441159709133_4503231900860547072_n.jpg?w=850&amp;ssl=1 850w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/wp-contentuploads\/2024\/12\/58578343_2203441159709133_4503231900860547072_n.jpg?resize=300%2C141&amp;ssl=1 300w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/wp-contentuploads\/2024\/12\/58578343_2203441159709133_4503231900860547072_n.jpg?resize=768%2C361&amp;ssl=1 768w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 709px) 85vw, (max-width: 909px) 67vw, (max-width: 1362px) 62vw, 840px\" \/><\/a>For the better part of 40 years, I\u2019ve made a pest of myself to poetry lovers. I\u2019ve complained too often that too many poets seem to think they can declare their depth and genius by stringing together words that are incomprehensible and full of themselves.<\/p>\n<p>I don\u2019t like reading anything that has to be explained. Some of it is probably just over my head, but how would I know?<\/p>\n<p>Today, I apologize and make a full confession: I, too, am a recovering poet.<\/p>\n<p>As many of us do I went through my young writer poetry affectation stage back in high school. I just strung together words I liked in strict meter. I still believe that even free verse should have a rhythm, but again, how would I know? I never studied poetry and grew tired of pretense when I started writing plays and sensible prose (both of which I also never studied.)<\/p>\n<p>This is the one poem I wrote that I love and keep. It\u2019s calligraphed and nicely framed and displayed on a wall in our home. I wrote it for my wife, the lovely and feisty CarolAnn Williams, on our first Christmas.<\/p>\n<p>I love and am keeping her, too.<\/p>\n<p><em><strong>My Christmas Carol<\/strong><\/em><strong><\/p>\n<p>You are Christmas<br \/>\nand I am a child,<br \/>\nenchanted by eyes that sparkle<br \/>\nwith the merry shine of a thousand twinkling lights.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>As Christmas, you hold secrets:<br \/>\npromises of wonder<br \/>\nin yet unopened gifts.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>And I am so filled with joy<br \/>\nthat there is no room in me<br \/>\nfor fear or despair;<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>The magic of Christmas is in me!<br \/>\nYou put it there.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em> <strong>&#8211; For my CarolAnn, my wife.<br \/>\nDecember 25, 1988<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n<p>I didn\u2019t do the phrasing. I don\u2019t know where to leave one line and begin another willy-nilly. I guess it\u2019s to look cool. Yet again, how would I know?<\/p>\n<p>I do know that our friend, the late Rosemary Schmidt, understood it. She put my words into attractive (if weird) line breaks while maintaining the meter.<\/p>\n<p>Meter is a big deal to me because I used to be a drummer.<\/p>\n<p>Anyway, I\u2019m open to all the criticism I deserve except for my motive. When you love someone with all your heart, corny metaphors and even some metric missteps are totally acceptable.<\/p>\n<p>Though I can\u2019t know that for sure.<\/p>\n<div>\n<hr \/>\n<\/div>\n<p><em>PS. A few years ago I started a Facebook page called <strong><a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/klifdave\/\" rel=\"nofollow ugc noopener\">Why I Hate Poetry. You can see it here<\/a><\/strong> and call it Why I Hate Dave if you like.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>For the better part of 40 years, I\u2019ve made a pest of myself to poetry lovers. I\u2019ve complained too often that too many poets seem to think they can declare their depth and genius by stringing together words that are incomprehensible and full of themselves. I don\u2019t like reading anything that has to be explained. &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/confessions-of-a-recovering-poet\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;Confessions of a recovering poet&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[567,600],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4282","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-emily-dickinson","category-poetry"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.4 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>Confessions of a recovering poet : The Aging of Aquarius<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/theagingofaquarius.com\/dw_blog\/confessions-of-a-recovering-poet\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Confessions of a recovering poet : The Aging of Aquarius\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"For the better part of 40 years, I\u2019ve made a pest of myself to poetry lovers. I\u2019ve complained too often that too many poets seem to think they can declare their depth and genius by stringing together words that are incomprehensible and full of themselves. 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