"I Am Blanking Out On A Title For This Post "

Dear Blogging People: How are you?
By the way, does anyone else have trouble finding ways to open up a post? I do not seem quite able to master the art of an enthralling first word. Maybe if I started out something like, "It was a dark and stormy night..." and the rest would soon follow, "and Rachel sat typing at the keyboard." Not gonna cut it is it? Here is something that you will soon hear about if you talk with me about poetry: I do not in any way, shape or form like un-rhyming poetry. (generally.) That being said, I shall post a couple of poems that Sarah and I made up simply to disgust ourselves by pretending to be Mr. Carl Sandburg who is characterized by calling fog "cat feet" and all a manner of other things strange:

"The jaguar moves on silent feet-
Velvety feet through the jungle.
Where is he going?
Only he knows.
On velvet feet he steps across a log--
A dead, moss-covered log.
Startling a bird
He pauses- velvet
Paw held in the air.
Dark mists hide
Him
Where is he going?
Only his velvet feet know."

Now, if that weren't disgusting enough, here's one more:

"Drifting in endless columns
From the
Chimney where it came,
Choking columns float toward the sun,
Like a form of night,
Paled by the sun.
Gray smoke cloaks the
Lone pine from
My watching eyes.
I think- what is
Smoke?
A nightmare in
cloud-form?
A rain-cloud gone
Astray or perhaps
Just the cloud rising from
The logs on the
Hearth. I wonder, and
Watch the lone pine
Disappear in the
Smoke."

Okay. Bear with me. We were laughing so hard because people get famous from writing stuff like that. Who can call such things poetry? I am incredulous at some of those sorts of things. They are the most boring scribblings in the world I think. Here is a rhyming poem that I wrote about the subject:

"Analogies"

Like a truffle without chocolate

Like an apple without peel,

Like a mouth without a smile

Like a letter without seal,

Like a ring without a diamond

Like a watch without the time,

Like a fountain without water

Is a poem without rhyme.

Okay. And just for you Joanna, (and someone better comment or I'll never post poetry again) here is the one about our forest in the snow:

"Snow Lace"

The finest kind of lace I know

Is what the trees wear in the snow:

Their barren arms are covered quite

With snowy lace of dazzling white,

And glad I am to finally see

Them traced in silver-filigree.

The trimming on a wedding dress

May never fail you to impress.

And yet, a costly bridal veil

Beside the snow is coarse and pale.

More shimm'ring than the milk-weed down

Can be the greenwood's marriage gown--

And lo, the roots are even shod

In lace spun by Almighty God.

Okay. Hope you enjoyed that someone. And please believe me when I say that Sarah and I do not think the first two poems were good! They are impeccably revolting! :) -Rachel