Bad Poetry Friday

There’s only two more days left in National Poetry Month. Make them count!Tofino 049


Sundays were for sleep

Now the calendar is full

of toddler playdates




Getting jealous thoughts

when I read an amazing book

is how I will fall



Drink coffee coffee

coffee coffee drink coffee

coffee coffee drink



Everything I write

is hot wet garbage left out

for vultures to eat



This would be easy

if I actually said things

that sounded profound



2016 has been a

series of obituary

headlines in papers



Why do I grow old

each day when I still feel young

inside my body?



This month of poems has

flown out the window on a

blustery spring breeze


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