It's So Simple

PROFESSOR SQUIGGLEE, as some of you may know, is a real stick in the mud (don’t tell him I said that) ... that is, he’s a stickler for starting at the beginning of anything or any topic, and working methodically through to the logical conclusion.

Well, not me.

As some of you also may know ... I sometimes like to start in the middle ... well, not exactly like .... but just happen to find myself there ... and work in all directions.

Admittedly, I don’t always find my way to a logical conclusion ... or, sometimes, any kind of conclusion, but I do enjoy the scenery along the way.

This time, though ... in case it’s not readily apparent, I started at the end (the poem) and worked my way forward ... how forward ... or backward ... time will tell.

-S&G-

THIS MORNING ... pick a morning, any morning ... while I was trimming my beard ... an easy task, since it was only one day old ... the beard, that is ... for some strange reason, baffling both to science and to me ... I thought of my poem, “It’s So Simple.”

So I went clawing through the rubble ... oops! I almost said “rubbish” ... on my desk ... and there it was, right at my fingertips (didn’t know that I’m gifted with dozens of extra fingertips, did you?) ... so, once again, if I’ve hit all the buttons right ... or even some of them ... it should appear somewhere below in this installment.

Meanwhile ...

-S&G-

LAST WEEK’S POEM ... remember “A Plague of Squirrels”? ... reminded LOREE (Kansas) of a battle her sister in Joplin, Mo., has been waging for ages.

Those particular squirrels thrive in the nearby giant oaks which provide an endless supply of acorns ... and in her sister’s house, if they can find a way in.

But let’s let Loree tell us about it:

“Unfortunately, the squirrels seem to like more variety (than those acorns), so any flowers she sets outside are fair game for those blasted squirrels.

“Bird feeders are another big attraction for them, and a garden with home-grown tomatoes? Yummy, yummy!

“Some of the methods she describes to me ... and has tried ... for eliminating those pesky critters, make my toes curl ... and sound far too drastic for me.

“I love all animals, and rarely see a squirrel in my yard, since I have three dogs ... two of which run in and out, and one that does guard duty full time outside. I suggested to her that if she would put a gate across her driveway, since her yard is already fenced, a dog would be the perfect answer for solving the problem.

“Unfortunately, while I am the animal lover in excess, she believes in going through life without a dog to have to feed and water in return for services rendered. End of topic, as far as she is concerned.”

-S&G-

I COULD SUGGEST some other approaches I’ve used ... like waving my old hat in a threatening manner ... shaking my fist at them ... tossing walnuts or pine cones at them ... but these methods don’t work ... and I know that trying to reason with them would be useless, too. So what am I to do with my own squirrels? I guess I’ll just have to put up with them ... and they with me.

-S&G-

I THINK I’VE mentioned that I’ve come full circle ... Way back in the previous century, when I was in high school, I was a sprinter ... hundred-yard dash and the 220 being among my specialties ... and now here I am, well past the age of thirty-nine ... and I’m a “sprinter” again.

Let me explain.

First of all, don’t worry ... I don’t do any actual running. Oh, I dream about running ... and wake up with leg cramps ... but the awake-time “running” I do is strictly against the clock.

I’ve found that I can hold up pretty well ... unless it’s a really physical task ... for about 15 minutes ... so a 15-minute “sprint” serves my purposes for most of the things I do during the day.

At least that’s my intention. It usually turns out that these little projects ... remember, I expect them to take about 15 minutes to accomplish ... seem to entail unforeseen hurdles ... and those hurdles turn my “sprint” into a marathon (puff-puff ... PUFF).

-S&G-

THIS WEEK’S POEM ... Aha! You thought I’d forgotten, didn’t you? Never! I’ve got a memory like a whatchamacallit ... but that’s another topic, too.

Oh, do read on.

Before we're finished, I will have led you down the winding garden path with still another poem about writing. As always, my usual disclaimer: I write about writing, not because I'm expert, but because the process intrigues me so.

As you will see, as you work your way through the poem, I don't think writing a poem ... or writing anything for public consumption, for that matter ... is really a simple matter.

But the end product, I think, should give the appearance of having been done with ease ... that’s when it’s really successful, I think.

What I'm saying in the poem, I guess, is that a poem should come to the reader with the ease one experiences in simply pouring a cup of coffee. I hope you'll have a sip ... and I hope you enjoy it:

IT'S SO SIMPLE

Writing a poem is as simple as pouring

a cup of coffee. First, though, you plant

a seed, wait for the sprout, nurture it,

then transplant the seedling, let it mature,

hope that frost doesn't kill the buds,

let the bees pollinate blossoms, wait

for the beans to mature, pick the beans,

dry them, haul them, roast them, transport

them again, package them, grind them,

add water, let them leap as they

percolate and you keep an eye on the clock.

Then you simply pour, sit back and enjoy.

(originally published in ByLine magazine)

-S&G-

COMMENT? Feel free ... below, if you like.

Or if you prefer e-mail, that's fine, too ... especially for more detailed observations, to rbrimm@peoplepc.com

... and it helps if you put "Squiggles" or "S&G" ... something like that ... in the subject line (just remember, no religion or politics ... please!)

-S&G-

UNTIL NEXT TIME ... take care ... see ya!

-S&G-

© 2009