Poems and trying to develop a writing schedule

So much to write, and so little time.

There are times, many of them, when I wish I lived on Pluto. Each Plutonian day is six earth days. Just think of all the things one could accomplish! If you could condition yourself to somehow subsist on eight hours of sleep, you’d have 136 hours left in the day.

Alas, you’d never know since you’d instantly freeze to death. We’ll find out for sure when New Horizons has its rendezvous with Pluto in July 2015, but I’m guessing it’s around -384 degrees there. Cold, cold, cold.

So, we are left to ponder how to make the most of our time on earth.

Yes, a person could try to get by on five hours of sleep a day and have 19 hours to do the rest of their stuff. My problem is that after three days of five hours of sleep daily, I’m ready to crash for about 12 hours.

So, the best thing to do is to make a daily schedule and, if necessary, deny yourself the fun of Facebook, Twitter, Justin Bieber videos or reading about the latest Lady Gaga controversy until you get your writing done. Ideally, each day I’d love to write 2,000 words on my novel(s), a few thousand on short stories, update my blogs, write poems and journal.

Busy work? Yes, but it isn’t as difficult when you consider how much time wasted in an average day.

As far as poems, I have more written and may post by Monday.

Post comments here or e-mail them to richardzowie@gmail.com.

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2-15-2011 poems: 3 to 7 to 3, The Water Tower Planet

2-15-2011 — 3 to 7 to 3

Is it weird

To write poems

With non-sequitur

Titles that have nothing

Whatsoever to do with

The content contained in

The poems they’re named?

Weird? Probably.

But who cares?

2-15-2011 — The Water Tower Planet

The pale blue

Water tower

In Frankenmuth, Michigan

Is almost invisible

At night.

Its mushroom shape

Barely contrasts

The black darkness.

I wonder:

Is this

How a distant planet

Would look?

A planet

Billions and billions

Of miles from the sun?

So distant that

The sun is but

A twinkling star?

The minimal contrast of

Pale, pale blue

Against black

Is the only reflection

Of travel-weary,

Weak, bleak sunlight.

Richard Zowie’s current tools of choice for writing poems are Zebra pens and a reporter’s size notebook. Post comments here or e-mail them to richardzowie@gmail.com.

Poems about icicles, German and pens

Note: Any poem with just a date listed is “untitled”.

2-11-2011 — Ode to the Icicle Liberator

Why do I love

To break off icicles?

When I see them

Dangling from buildings

Clear to milky white

Smooth

Shiny

Sometimes sharp,

Sometimes blunt

They beckon me

To rescue them

To break them off

To free them

To become water again.

I break them off,

Slippery and cold,

The snap a brittle twig.

I wonder if people watch,

Laughing,

Rolling their eyes,

Shaking their heads,

Wondering why

That big-nosed guy

Acts so weird.

They assume I have a choice

And they assume wrong.

To walk past a distressed icicle

To ignore its pleas

Is to tolerate

An unreachable, insatiable itch.

As the great philosophers Hall and Oates said:

“I can’t go for that. No can do.”

A simple pleasure

Is how I see it.

 2-13-2011 — Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”

“Nein,” I’d say.

Hesitating, my choppy, slow reply:

“Ich keine spreche Deutsch.”

If not the grammar,

My American accent

Butchers the language

Of mein Urgroßvater.

I say my r’s in the soft way Americans do,

Ruff! Rrrrrr!

Instead of saying them like w’s.

The umlats ä , ö , ü

Are, well, foreign.

Why do some Germans

Say “kh” for “ch”

Others “sh” for “ch”?

Funny how a language

So closely related to English

Can sound so different.

2-13-2011 — Pens

I know many look at me

Cringing

Murmuring

Rolling their eyes

Laughing

Gossiping

Wondering why

Richard is

So obsessed

With pens.

I like being creative.

Creativity demands

Insists

Commands

Specific pens

With a specific color.

Black ink might work

For most people

But I am not most people.

I’m different.

Papermates and Zebras for me.

Black, blue, red, purple

(Not wild about green)

Make me squeal.

My fingers dance

Great writing gets done.

Richard Zowie writes poems first using pen and paper and then transfers them onto a computer for posting on his blogs. Post comments here or e-mail richardzowie@gmail.com.

Two poems: The Questions I Have, Afternoon Bright Light

 The first poem is pentameter and the second one attempts to rhyme. Decided to take a break from free verse.

2-8-11 — The Questions I Have

NOTE: This is a pentameter poem. Didn’t feel comfortable trying to make it rhyme

The questions I have

Mainly mysteries

The answers mock me

Daring me to learn

Of all their secrets

The five W’s

And, of course, the H.

How is it that God

Has no beginning

Nor has an ending?

I don’t understand

The meaning of the

Hebrew name Calel

(Which means, “All of God”).

What mysteries lie

Underneath all the

Salmon, pink and white

Swirling tapestry

Clouds of Jupiter?

What is the smallest

Unit of matter?

Is it something that

Makes quarks seem as big

As Andromeda?

(The constellation?

No. the galaxy).

Finally, would life

Be any real fun

If there were no more

Questions to answer?

2-8-11 — Afternoon Bright Light

NOTE: a few rhymes here.

The blinding afternoon light

From the sun

Hardly brings afternoon delight

To me

As I try to work.

I reach into my pocket

For my shades.

The sunglasses are

Much-needed aides

To shield my eyes

From the angry glare.

Even in the brown tint

The sun is a

Bright white fire

That never seems to tire.

The only thing I like

About the fierce glare

Is it helps my eyes

Decide to look green.

Normally my hazel eyes–

–a lot of green

With a little brown–

Can’t decide if they want to be

Green

Brown or

Hazel.

The afternoon light

Is afternoon delight

When it makes my hazel eyes

Look bright

Instead of

Dull and dark.

Richard Zowie is trying his hand at writing poems. Post comments here or send them to richardzowie@gmail.com.

Trying out poetry

Maybe it’s just a phase I am going through, but I am really enjoying writing poetry. It’s never been my forte, as I prefer writing prose, but it has proven to be fun so far. As I continue to write, I may try to experiment with rhythm and rhyme. All in good time. So far, I have become adept at free verse, but soon it’ll be time to try something challenging.

My gosh, it is amazing to read Paradise Lost and marvel at the rhyme and rhythm!

While I post my poetry on my blog (some of it; much of it is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too personal), I have found I prefer to write longhand. Quentin Tarantino once said poetry could not be written on a computer, and I find writing poetry using a pen and paper brings me closer to the English language. Now, does this mean I will write a novel longhand, as Stephen King did with Dreamcatchers?

Um, no.

To this man, computer + poetry = blasphemy.

When I try to write prose longhand, I find my brain is often sentences and even paragraphs ahead of what I’m trying to write down.

One thing with poetry I wonder is when thoughts should be recorded in poem form and when they should be recorded in prose. Suggestions, anyone?

Richard Zowie is a writer who is getting in touch with his inner poet. He still loves story writing and is still working on short stories and novels. Post comments here or e-mail him at richardzowie@gmail.com.

Poems: After the Blizzard, Ode to the Papermate Design

Here are two poems I recently wrote. Normally I prefer prose but have been in the mood recently to write poems. Enjoy… 

2-3-2011 — After the Blizzard

 The snow is piled

High, bright and white.

The bright sunshine

Becomes far brighter.

The bright blue sky

Has only

Distant tufts of clouds.

A calm, quiet aftermath

Of an ugly blizzard–

–no school for three days.

The harmless skies are a

Gatling Gun

Fired red hot countless times at

Bull Run, Gettysburg, Chancellorsville.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Now silent, mute for decades,

Cold as an Arctic crypt.

The young generation looks, innocent, amused

Not knowing it was ever used.

2-6-2011 — Ode to the Papermate Design

For my birthday

Para mi cumpleaños

在我的生日
Для моего Днем Рождения
 

Zu meinem Geburtstag

I splurged

What the heck

Modest Christmas

$4.99 for two

Papermate Designs

Medium Point.

Fine point? Ugh!

One-point-six millimeter? Again, ugh!

This medium,

Not too bad.

It’s a little pricy but

Still,

Almost enough

To cease my memories

Of the

Discontinued Silkwriter BP’s

That Papermate in its finite wisdom

Decided to quit making.

I originally wrote this poem

In a blue notebook with a plastic cover

Using a Papermate Design.

I like it a lot.

Even the one with Pink designs.

Richard Zowie may continue writing poems. Feel free to critique–even if you’re the Simon Cowell type and think reading the above poems are comparable to dragging a fork across a plate. Post comments here or e-mail them to richardzowie@gmail.com.