The Writer's Day in the Country

So, this writer's workshop I write about here (aptly named The Writer's Day in the Country, because that's where we were - the middle of absolute blissful nowhere...) was a most humbling experience. Surrounded by veteran writers...and amazing beginners (just my luck!). I felt very small and sophomoric, too embarrassed to even read my own writing...feeling a little like I still slept on the floor with classmates on those tiny, tattered rugs and gobbled cookies and juice boxes at snack time. But, it gave me perspective from which to start from. I realize I need to step up my game, write every day to gain experience and allow the words to flow from me rather than pre-edit what would want to come out. It made me come to grips with the reality that I have a lot of work to do if I ever expect to write an entertaining, engaging book about the triplets. But I also became conscious of the basic element that I truly love to write. If I didn't, I would have thrown in the towel that very day.

It was a horrid and glorious day, pouring and thundering outside while we all lounged in a beautiful and cavernous (yet somehow cozy) log cabin in East Otto; a gorgeous panorama of the Southern Tier at our windowsill. A huge, stone fireplace roaring and crackling, the perfect setting to write; each snuggled in an overstuffed leather armchair, poised to become the next Eudora Welty...or Stephen King, whatever your genre! Large, deeply resonating wind chimes were a constant companion that day since the rain and wind were too. So deep, they reminded me of a large cathedral organ, with a constant, but slow overlapping "bong....bong"; it was deeply relaxing.

Lacking a story to finish and feeling quite like an outsider, I preferred to work on something completely beyond my realm...poetry. That way, if it sounded silly, I could always claim "newbie" status, never having really tried my hand before. I always prefer to be the underdog!

So, here it is, my first shot at bona-fide grown-up poetry. It may still belong in that kindergarten class art box, but at least now I am aware of that fact. ;) Tell me what you think!

Sometimes sideways,
the rain sheets and pelts
Bathing the borrowed house in a
cacophony of tinkles
Cozy in the cabin, drinking our tea
A soundtrack of thunder and deep chimes
Dry and Wry inside, yet
I feel wet,
If only behind the ears
To be in the presence of the big pond fish.
Self doubt and a need to escape
force me to slink
further down in my Luxurious chair.
Will I ever get there? Asks the little minnow…
While the King Crab advises,
Practice, practice, practice!
it is what makes us
Ready for the Sea.