Monday, March 14, 2011


Relax Max's little doggie heart was waxing poetic on this sunny Sunday and he took up pen and pad, sure that this would be the day he would finally learn to write poetry.

The words flowed this time, the words sublime, the loosed metaphors fell in rhyme,
Sure to wring those tears from the stars this time.

And, finished, smug, it all worked out, ready to take my place with the poets great,
I made the mistake of daring to compare my masterpiece with those before,
Just to confirm I was their equal.

The pages in the worn poetry book opened of their own accord to Wales and Dylan Thomas,
And though long dead, and probably quite drunk when he wrote it, his random words still mocked my talent:

"Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea."

I closed the book and threw mine away.


  1. Was that a guest blogger, your previous post? And you didn't read it?

    Success comes from knowing that you did your best to become the best that you are capable of becoming.
    John Wooden

    Success is never final, failure is never fatal. It's courage that counts.
    John Wooden

    I could go on....

    There is no failure except in no longer trying. ~Elbert Hubbard

    Our business in life is not to succeed, but to continue to fail in good spirits. ~Robert Louis Stevenson

  2. Chucked it? How will you gauge your growth if you do not keep the good, bad, and the ugly?

  3. Ok, I'll continue to fail in good spirits, A. :)

    Leazwell, I only have had bad and ugly so far. I am not growing. I am shrinking.

    Here is one I wrote and sold to Roger Miller:
    (he told people HE wrote it, then he died before I had a chance to collect)

    Roses are red,
    Violets are purple;
    Sugar is sweet,
    And so is maple syruple.

    (Only I wrote it in Welsh)

  4. More, you say?

    Engalun swings like a pendulum do;
    Bobbies on bicycles, two by two.
    Westminster Abbey, the tower of Big Ben;
    The rosy red cheeks of the little chil

    (See, "dren" rhymes with "Ben". I use that ploy often. I call it "Max Meter". I don't have it patented though, if anyone cares to use it too.)

  5. Ok, I surrender. They are ALL written by the late Roger Miller and, I hope, were buried with him.

  6. I understand. seriously. I feel the same way when I try to draw.

    Poetry, however, I can do in my sleep.


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