A Big Mass of Poems

I’ve revised about 70 pages so far and making good progress.  Woody has been reading it and writing comments, but most of the changes are from me. I find repetitions, dull patches, typos, awkward phrasing, more development needed, etc., I rather enjoy the work. Sometimes I have to stop and rewrite or clarify or addmore or remove some.

Then Friday, Woody brought home from WOMR a huge container of poems. About ¼ were submissions to the Jose Gouveia Poetry Conest sponsored by WOMR. The rest were national entries. There are more every year. The container was so heavy, I could not lift it or move it. Woody had to put it where I could reach into it. I started the first go through of the Regionals last night. Read about 25 poems. I am pleasantly surprised by the quality. Far less doggerel than usual. The first go through I discard all lame poems and keep those with some merit. Then comes the hard part. Going through the good poems and choosing the winners and runners-up.  Ranking them 1-10, three winners, rest honorable mentions. I realize it takes more than a week.

We’re doing a dry January. Woody’s idea. If you live with someone who is off wine, then it’s ridiculous not to join them. What sense would it make to open a bottle of nice wine for one person to have a glass? I never drink much and haven’t for decades. I’ll have a glass or a glass and a half of wine except with company or at someone’s house. Then I may have two glasses, or not.

I intend to watch the Pegasus invitational and cup races today at Gulfstream Park, as football is winding down and will be gone soon. I also sometime watch gymnastics, track and field and figure skating. We watched The Breakthrough on Netflix – riveting if a bit slow paced. 

I did write a couple of poems, but mostly I was engaged by my book.

The TV conked out yesterday when I went to program the box for the weekend.  Comcast is a pit, but we still use it. I got it fixed finally but was worn out afterward. A lot of running back and forth between the land line and the TV.

Woody ended up making supper from the recipe I had found in one of my Middle Eastern cookbooks. Ground lamb with bulghur and roasted peppers. I was wiped. 

When Willow is not sleeping or cuddling with me in bed at night, and when there’s no mouse hunt, if I rise to pee, I often see her with Shaman. They are still a couple. I saw them three nights ago lying facing with one paw touching one paw of the other. Sometimes they wash each other – sometimes more vigorously than the other enjoys. They still play together.

I knew I was getting the poems this weekend so we didn’t schedule anything.