National Poetry Month

Inspired by Black History month, The Academy of American Poets  worked with a variety of interested parties including teachers, publishers, booksellers, librarians, and of course poets to figure out the many ways poetry could be celebrated.  They concluded April was a great month for the celebration, and on April 1, 1996, President Bill Clinton proclaimed April to be National Poetry Month. 

 

Following the Academy’s lead, Writers’ Morning Out has posted a poem-a-day during April since WMO’s inception in 2010.

“Nirvana on a Family Road Trip” by Emily Buchanan

 

Get a Guaranteed Offer On Your light, Progressive Family,

And Yield To Oncoming Traffic. Don’t play chicken with it.

At First Horizon, Proceed With Caution and

Handle With Care.

 

“It is what it is,” says the commentator on the public radio broadcast.

Truer words have never been heard. Or maybe they have.

Stop trying to conquer the world. Just sit and notice your foggy breath

On the automatic windows and watch these billboards fly by.

 

There is no mold for you to fit into,

And you can’t really make your own.

Nothing new is ever created, nor destroyed.

Simply fall in line at the drive thru and order your nuggets and fries.

 

There’s no such thing as high or low stakes.

Judging every movement will only empty your tank.

You can’t run under that kind of pressure.

You’re neither losing nor winning, just existing and watching.

 

You’re going to be okay, no matter what.

Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.

That is the whole and only point of existance, curiosity.

That’s why we love art, beauty.

 

That’s why we travel miles to meditate over

Monuments and landscapes and roadside attractions like

South of the Border and giant balls of yarn.

Just pay a little pleasant attention.  That’s all.

 

You can grin every now and then,

But always travel back home, knowing this:

Nothing is either good or bad.  We’re all in neutral, and

You exist only to observe.

 

Don’t try to avoid conflict or pursue happiness.

Pain is not punishment; pleasure is not a reward.

There are no journeys, no destinations.  Just winding curves.

Your cells exist to seek equilibrium, and you are merely awareness.

 

 

2 Responses

  1. I love this poem. Such deep thought . Reflects how many of us are existing in our time and space right now. Many thanks to the poet. Waiting to hear more from this writer. Well done.

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