Category Archives: Random Poem

Sixteen Sixty-Six Point Six Seven

Daily writing 1666.67 words;
that’s what is required
to meet the NaNoWriMo goal
of 50,000 words
in 30 day.

People balk at that
when I mention the count
and I don’t understand
their reaction.
They call it tedium
and disgusting.
I’m sure if you added up
all their texts, tweets,
Facebook posts, emails and snail mails
and any lists and journals
many of these ‘non’ writers keep,
they could likely succeed
at NaNoWriMo in their sleep.

Maybe like some of them,
for me the count is not the problem.
My only thought is
how will I decide
which 1666.67 words
to begin with to say
my story into existence.

Every November day
is a story-telling struggle
to pick the right 1666.67 words
to shape the story on paper
from images and ideas in my head.
Finally, after some struggle and prodding
I give in to the rest of my life
and give up writing my story
only to keep in the back of my mind,

I let that paltry
1666.67 words beat me again!

© 2014 Shari Lynne Smothers

Forgetting National Poetry Month 2014

National poetry month was forgotten by me—
me—of all people.
I’m getting old, slowing, I know
but it was never in me,
or so I thought
to give my Self over
so totally to work and responsibilities
until I could not
remember the extra,
important parts added to me, by me.

I surprise me daily, in new ways.
Like now, with my insistence on
returning my Self to me,
and how I’m finding the impetus.

© 2014 Shari Lynne Smothers

Random Graces

An errant smile for the goodness in my life
at the moment when things are quite bleak.
A pass on some uncomfortable task
before I had to steel myself to do it.
The chance to help someone by doing
something it’s a pleasure to work on.
Being appreciated when none was expected
and the humbling sensation of realizing
maybe it was something I needed.
These things see me on my journey
nudging me forward, encouraging me;

I hope it means what I think it does —
that I’m headed in a proper direction.

© 2014 Shari Lynne Smothers

Up from Fifty

They say once you hit fifty
it’s all down hill.
That nebulous, nameless “they”
nay-saying every decent aspect
of aging, forgetting grace exists
in the graying bodies too.

Pronounced aches,
prolonged convalescing,
failing parts,
all that notwithstanding;
It is a grace at any age
to continue the race.
The key
is knowing how
to negotiate the venue.

© 2014 Shari Lynne Smothers