I hadn't written a poem since September 9, 2015, when my sweetheart, Jack Loscutoff, died.
He and I used to compose erotic poetry, each hoping to top the other. Great fun.
After Jack died, I published our erotica in JackJack & JuneBug: A Love Song in Poems & Posts. But I stopped writing poems.
For three years I didn't even think about it. Then I attended Deirdre Evans and Jack Hubbell's monthly Poetry Salon where a spattering of Omaha poets take turns presenting their poetry.
I had plenty of old poems to read, 600 at last count, but performing my ancient poetry bored me. Reading someone else's work seemed evasive. Unfortunately, my current writing—books and blogs—ran much too long to be read aloud.
"What to do," I asked Deidre. "Maybe you have an idea."
Her email came right to the point. "You are a writer, nu? Can condense blog to something shorter?"
Her idea made no sense to me until I successfully abbreviated a blog, reducing its 365 words to 26 (see "The Flood," below).
That cracked my writer's block. Now I'm composing poem after poem, each abridged from one of my longer blogs or books.
The Flood
Oh lover mine
where have you
gone gone gone
leaving me forlorn
in my humongous
abandoned bed
my bare feet
dangle wet
ankle-deep
in anguish
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