Here is an older poem, I’ll never publish. Found it this morning. Based on a real event that caught my attention. As a poet, when you witness something poetic in your day-to-day, does it come with an asterisk? *go home and write about this! A local poet once shared in a class they were teaching, “First thought is not BEST thought.” Meaning the idea should not override the process and crafting.
So you go home, jot down the first impressions in a free-form editor-off moment. Then the craft of poetry begins. Revisit that moment. I imagine a poet going at the rough draft like a sculptor chisels away at a block of marble. Of course not every poem is a master piece, however, I would argue that every poem is worth the experience of attempting to craft one.
Hope you enjoy this old poem.
A Breakfast Town with a Fishing Problem
Weekday morning sitting at the one
freshly upholstered booth
waiting for my order of
potato hash and two over-easy
The cafe is empty, quiet
Until
they
arrive
A parade of barnacle-heavy bent men
fill up each booth around me
Give huffled grunts as they
walk past me sitting in the seat
recently repaired, replaced
Open full volume apps to gamble
While they wait for food
Like steam engines at the
end of the voyage, sighs puff out
loudly as lower backs and cheeks
explore the terrain for a comfortable spot
on the spring-broken, soft bench
Waitress, I’m going to move
to a sunny booth over there
pointing to the bright empty
section, looking out the large
“Arlis’s Restaurant”
stenciled window
A request I know they notice
Women are always cold
shannon p. laws 