One thing about writing, at least for me, is that it tends to engender more writing. The process of working on the book poem has been fun, to see what works each time and what parts suck. I’ve been mildly startled that each incarnation has been such a total change, instead of a tweaking of what’s already there. I won’t call today’s attempt Take Four, because it’s not really a revision. Instead, I felt like my message split; that in honing the previous version I focused more closely on one part of what I wanted to say and lost the other part of the message. So here’s that other part – this one was more fun to write because it’s just lighthearted gloating instead of serious self-examination.

Inexhausted Treasure
Books, I surrender,
You have me far outnumbered.
You have more pages
Than I have time to read.
You are so mind-boggling many
I can’t run out
Of reading,
I won’t even run out
Of good reading.
Don’t think I take this easily
Twist my arm, feel me kick and scream
See how I protest (wink, wink)
This fate of the vanquished,
Batter my heart to submission
I accede, though grudging fate
My sweet doom
To read and read and read.

And here’s a bonus. This one was inspired by a combination of Becky Zoole’s posting of Alfred Noyes’ Song of Sherwood and of many, many mornings spent alone in a small boat under a sunrise sky.

Dawn is for adventure,
Possibilities
Dawn’s the time for
How d’ya know they won’t?
If the Sleepers ever wake,
It stands to reason dawn’s the time;
Dawn’s the time when nightmares break
And darkness ends.
Dawn’s the time when your pet evil
Has done nothing wrong this day
And the chance is there, if faint,
This day he won’t.
If there ever comes a day
When there’s no evil done on earth
It will begin with dawn.
Who knows which one?