Poem a Day December #14
Sorry for failing you yesterday. What can I say? I reckon it’s not the first time a poet has left you hanging. And knowing myself as I do, I reckon it won’t be the last.
Here is one taken from last year’s Southampton Writers Conference. As you will see, it stems not so much from something Billy Collins said as from something I thought he said.
A fellow poet once suggested that poetry
heals all ills, which got me thinking—
wouldn’t it be nice if one of the benefits
of growing old as a poet, was that,
simply by writing of what ails you,
the symptoms would disappear?
And, let’s throw in for good measure,
the added benefit of the healing power
of poetry applying to the work itself,
taking mere doggerel
and turning it into
Pulled up lame legging out