April is National Poetry Month. And although I didn’t publish a single poem of my own, this is the time to celebrate poetry.
It’s kind of funny how this poem, first published in 1798, is relevant still.
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Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
This has become the state of our world now. We have water — too much of it — but it won’t quench our thirst. Blame it on global warming, or air conditioners or even the UV rays.Whatever it is, it’s melting snow, and all we have left is water. And it’s useless.
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
Why am I posting this?
Enjoyed this poem and thought you should too.
You’re welcome.
The Chaos Within 