Thanks Timmy for your very interesting response. I have been so impressed at the way you just keep posting, and good stuff too. It is very interesting to hear about your process of writing. For me, I am a first timer. I too have a busy family life and job. These are my first rather awkward "public" attempts. Am just off on holiday for a few days, lucky me, but will try and write some more. And wow! Saw Frank Sinatra live! What a great bit of personal history!
you are too kind. "Ode to Frank" I wrote Monday after listening to Frank's Reprise Collection on my Ipod for a week while on a Mission trip w/#1 son to St. Louis. Frank the man was not a role model, but Frank the artist was unmatched. I saw him live once. He was awesome.
if i do post something, it's always first draft. the finished product might be far different (already got rid of all of Frank's wives except "ava"....i write most of my poems in my head. think about them for the longest times....talked to Dave Etter (a poet from Illinois...look him up) once. Got roaring drunk and talked poetry with him through the evening in a little town in southwest Minnesota. he opened my eyes to a lot of things....
...i've been published regionally, but don't usually send poetry to many places. at some point i would like to work on a chapbook, but it's not a priority.
I am not a prolific writer. Never have been. I write when I have time, but with an active family (two boys and a cute wife) I find writing time to be, at best, wishful thinking....
please post more things yourself.....i love good poetry....
Timmy, I love your poetry. Can I ask you a question? Do you write each day? Are these poems from a bank you have built up over the years or do you post them as you write them? (that turned out to be several questions then?!)
i dreamed of Frank Sinatra
last night, dreamed of flying
to the moon with black tempered
ava, petite mia, laughing face nancy
and Palm Spring’s barbara Marx
i tried my mightiest to dream
my way, ended up a man alone
with only the world we knew
between us and watertown
Frank, the man with the golden
arm, september of my years
tugging the days of wine and roses
oh, Frank, i miss your high society,
your pride and the passion
for none but the brave can sing
about marriage on the rocks,
make it sound more than
something stupid or more
than moonlight or simple stardust
my dream came nice and easy
your voice crooned look to the heart,
come dance with me, and i listened
where are you, Frank, in the wee
small hours? the joker is wild,
some came running, and the devil
at 4 o’clock cried come blow your horn
when dawn came, the lady in cement
next to me laughed and whispered
from here to eternity is finally arrived: