Sunday, May 8, 2011

Poetry Bus Takes the Cake!


We're waiting For TFE. We're not gettin' on the bus without him.  Except....we've been promised a birthday celebration. Does that mean cake? If there's cake we may board.  We WILL board, in fact, if there is cake.  Mildred is hoping for gluten free, and Albertus has issues with eggs.  Bertrand is on a lactose free diet, and Portia is hoping for chocolate. Lemon gives Martressa the vapours. But I like cake - any kind. Mmmm cake.


Vick at Poetry Jam has graciously offered to manage the Poetry Bus Station.  His is the last office on the left.  Next to the water cooler.  The sign on the door says POETRY JAM. Hmmm reminds me of jam cake and jelly rolls....where's that bus!


This poem may be just the ticket for this week's birthday themed poetry bus ride:


On Aging

I once thought that my mom was old
Oh yes, my father too
In retrospect I made that claim
When they were 32

I've long surpassed that golden year
I just turned 59
And look with reconditioned eyes
Upon these peers of mine

With each decade old gets older
I re-negotiate my gauge
And live well by the rule of thumb:
Age is relative to age


Cynthia A Conciatu




I've missed the last two or three bus rides!  I thought by riding each week I might write many new poems.  As always though, my poems come when they are good and ready.  They are inspired by a few words, a scene, an event, an emotion and when that happens, the poem practically writes itself,  beginning to end with few revisions. Strange but true.  It's very rare that I can just sit down and write on command, or write because I want to. I've tried it and I usually end up with something I'm not the least bit happy with. It sounds forced, lacks the stuff of poetry, and I end up submitting (like today) something that I've already written - an inspiration that I managed to get on paper when it arrived. But I'll keep on trying and writing and Poetry riding.

Some exciting news: I submitted several  of my poems for  publication in the annual Eckerd Review.  The poems were submitted anonymously and were among several hundred poems, short stories, writings and art work submitted by students, alumni, staff, and several organizations from my Alma Mater, Eckerd College, St. Petersburg Florida.  Two of my poems were chosen for publication and I've been invited, along with the others to read at a reception on Wednesday, May 11! The poems are Chapters and Forget-Me-Nots.

12 comments:

The Bug said...

Your poem is so true! I've found myself talking about whippersnappers for heaven's sake :)

Congrats on the publication!

Debby said...

Congratulations on the publication. I am very proud of you!

I have no poetry in my heart right now. I am anatomied and physiologied out. I cannot wait until next Tuesday. The seventeenth. In the afternoon.

Helen said...

Huge congratulations on being published!!!!

Love how you tell us about the relativity of aging...

LadyCat said...

This poem is so true. Being 58, I can relate : )
Great job on getting your submissions in for the Eckerd Review.

NanU said...

Me too, I used to think of my parents as so, so old! And now I am way past their age then, and I'm not old at all. So now, when it might be permitted at last to think of me 70+ parents as 'old', I know better. I'll be there one day. Which is all to say: Perfect Poem!!!

So fun to be published - enjoy the reading!

Jinksy said...

I loved your take on the birthday theme! Who's counting the candles?

Peter Goulding said...

Good luck with the reading on Wednesday Cynthia. Brilliant news. From a young buck of 50.

Titus said...

So nicely done - rhyme and rhythm I love.
And congratulations! Hope it's a blast (though not too noisy...)

jabblog said...

Congratulations! Enjoy the reading.
It is strange how old gets older as the milestones are passed.

GUNS said...

lovely rythmn in this. and the sentiment is sooo true! great stuff! :-D

Bagman and Butler said...

Great poem and congratulations on the Eckerd Review! That is no small feat!

Doctor FTSE said...

Old is when policemen look young. Very old is when there's only four months from one Christmas to the next. Enjoyed the poem. Thank you.