I write. A lot. I was trying to write a long poem to read as a toast to my oldest son and his new bride (aka my newest daughter!). Nothing came to mind. Finally, I realized this:
No poetry can/
express how I feel gaining/
a daughter like you.
Or (because I realized to applied to each of my children):
No poetry can express
the joy felt having children
such as you all are.
I try to avoid
giving out guilt. I have so/
much I’m good at it.
People who should be/
ashamed are folks who are bad,/
not those who try hard.
I wish I could write /
poetry that looks as cool/
as Без названия does.
I just saw a tough /
cowboy in sparkly skinny/
jeans. That seems so wrong.
I’m not too sedate/
to watch the debate. It’s late./
And I’m just too tired.
OR
I’m just too dang tired.
A cheerleader dream
Came true decades later and
Helped me find myself.
OR
The dream of a young
cheerleader came true decades
later and changed me.
When we’re stressed out we/
stress out people we are with./
Can’t we all chill out?
When you know what’s right/
you have to do it despite/
bad consequences.
It’s hard, but I can
accept Packers fans not born
in the Dairy State.