Grief, heartache, despair, and death can inspire great poetry, but nothing kills the poetic impulse like faculty governance.
Committee-produced blather is the antithesis of poetry. Poetry has no regard for Robert's Rules of Order. Contentious meetings stomp on poetry's feet. The muse flees before the reading of minutes. Meetings have drained my creative juices. I can't produce.
But you can! (Please?) Poetry of any form on any topic...even if it's not Friday anymore.
Meeting adjourned.
3 comments:
Saturday's made for clean laundry,
the task is certainly sundry,
Though I might protest,
I think it is best,
That I have clean clothes come this Sunday.
Evening light glows on
high limbs. If only my limbs
could lift me to gold.
Lovely haiku and clever limerick. Thanks for playing! Gold stars all around.
Post a Comment