On writing poetry…

rooftopSince the beginning of February, I have been taking part in a weekly poetry writing workshop, organized through The Reader Berlin. I don’t fancy myself as much of a poet, but not least since reading Christopher Johnson’s Microstyle: The Art of Writing Little, I think that poetic skills are very useful also in other writing situations, such as crafting snappy headlines. Every week, we read some poems that the participants have handed in (everyone gets to do two during the course), and discuss them. You read your own poem, but don’t take part in the discussion – that works quite well. I am enjoying the workshops a lot.

Here is the poem I have submitted for next Wednesday’s meeting …

Thirst  

Wet snow drips misery from the rooftops.
I should not have had that last bottle of beer.
Or the dozen before it. Or that shot of tequila –
I guess that was not such a brilliant idea.

But last night, I was thirsty for beer and adventure
and a glint in your eye told me that you were too.
So the drinks had no bottom, and the clock had no meaning,
’til the sky started turning a lighter blue.

You bought the first round at the bar of the venue,
a scene we’ve rehearsed on many a day.
Cold beer in the dark, enjoying the music
and on stage someone sings what we never could say.

We picked up supplies on the way to the party.
It was somebody’s birthday. There was a cake and a grill.
Someone brought out tequila. Someone brought out a camera.
In the pictures you smile at me as only you will.

Early this morning I woke up on your sofa
and snuck out of the house while you were asleep.
Maybe the next time we meet I will tell you
that it’s for you that my thirst runs so deep.

Dublin at night

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