San Antonio Poetry Fair
My good friend P.C. McKinnon forwarded me this email that was forwarded to him. I would like to share it with you because it is a beautiful reminder of a deadline for the San Antonio Poetry Fair Contest:
I found this in the 2007 anthology of the San Antonio Poetry Fair. If you haven't sent them a poem, see http://hometown.aol.com/sapoetryfair/ for details (deadline June 9). Jeanne would have liked that.
--Dionysus Don
Pieces of Me - by Lana Jeanne Guthrie
Many years and a few minutes ago,
I held time in my hands as nonchalantly,
carelessly, as a sack full of promises.
I knew that there would be greatness,
immortality in the work left behind.
Eternity to be graced with my name.
I was so young, there was plenty of time.
I planned to start it tomorrow.
Tomorrow came, a few minutes ago,
whispered, "Where's your work?"
But, "Now or never" was a lifetime ago,
and it appears that I chose "Never."
The great monument was never built,
the acclaimed book never written.
The performance was never given,
And "Now" slipped quietly away.
So, here, in quite desperation,
I begin to assemble my memorial.
A ramshackle affair of bits and scraps,
it's books of photos, whatnots on a shelf,
poems, scrapbooks, stories and songs,
a rosemary bush I planted in the yard.
So little to show for a life fully lived,
all I leave behind is pieces of me.
I found this in the 2007 anthology of the San Antonio Poetry Fair. If you haven't sent them a poem, see http://hometown.aol.com/sapoetryfair/ for details (deadline June 9). Jeanne would have liked that.
--Dionysus Don
Pieces of Me - by Lana Jeanne Guthrie
Many years and a few minutes ago,
I held time in my hands as nonchalantly,
carelessly, as a sack full of promises.
I knew that there would be greatness,
immortality in the work left behind.
Eternity to be graced with my name.
I was so young, there was plenty of time.
I planned to start it tomorrow.
Tomorrow came, a few minutes ago,
whispered, "Where's your work?"
But, "Now or never" was a lifetime ago,
and it appears that I chose "Never."
The great monument was never built,
the acclaimed book never written.
The performance was never given,
And "Now" slipped quietly away.
So, here, in quite desperation,
I begin to assemble my memorial.
A ramshackle affair of bits and scraps,
it's books of photos, whatnots on a shelf,
poems, scrapbooks, stories and songs,
a rosemary bush I planted in the yard.
So little to show for a life fully lived,
all I leave behind is pieces of me.
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