NaWUPoBo, #28
There, my friends! National Whomp Up Poetry Book month is over! The goal was to write a poem a day for all of February, in any style, based on a theme of your choice. I chose my experiences as a nurse aide. There has been a lot to pick from. I hope when you've organized your poems you'll share them with me. I will be very curious to see what you have done.
Erin, thank you for all the support … you are wonderful!
I see myself wandering these baleful
corridors for years to come, having given
up on scholarship and whatever wool
I had been gathering. They say someone
has to change diapers, dig ditches, empty
chamber pots. Poetry is not a day
job, of course, or pays the rent. Poverty
for the poet is almost a cliche,
but one we've all experienced. We work,
we crack, we burn out. Today I'm a nurse
aide and tomorrow a day laborer.
I drift, strain. A failure that seems to lurk
by my right ear butts me along. This curse,
this grace, I'm a nurse aide, a sonneteer.