The Poet Who was Fired

Did you hear about the poet who lost her job?

She walked into a bar afterwards, told the bartender to ‘set them up’ because she’d been fired.

“What!” Says the bartender. “Why were you fired?”

“A disaster, a catastrophe indeed!”

“That’s terrible! What was it?” The bartender asks.

She says, “My publisher discovered my readers understood my poetry!”


“Don, Your Phone has Died”

DON:  Hello?

PAUL:  Don, it’s Paul.  Did you feel the earthquake last night?

DON:  Earthquake!  There was an earthquake?  When!  What time?

PAUL:  Oh, thank goodness!  If you didn’t feel an earthquake, and I didn’t feel an earthquake. There probably wasn’t one.  What a relief!

DON:  Wait.  You thought you felt an earthquake?

PAUL:  Oh, no! No, nothing like that.  It’s just this morning I got to wondering what if? What if there was an earthquake last night, and I didn’t notice it?  It’s a pretty scary thought, don’t you think, Don?

Don…  Don?  Don, your phone has died.  AGAIN.


Dear Paul…

Dear Paul,

Like some people, I blog in the nude.  As a precaution, I lock my bedroom door so that my eight year-old son doesn’t walk in on his mommy while I’m in such a state. However, about a week ago, I forgot to lock the door and the inevitable happened.  It’s been six days now, and he is still in shock!  He refuses to call me “mommy”, and he even refuses to eat any food I prepare him, forcing my husband to do the cooking.  What can I do?  He got over the nudity within an hour, but he still can’t cope with his mommy being a blogger.

— Desperate Mother.


Dear Desperate,

Whatever you do, seize this opportunity to create some great content!  You should be able to get at least a post a day out of your son’s shock.  Priorities! Focus! Focus, before he comes out of shock and this god-sent opportunity is lost.



Why Some Talk Show Hosts Talk Over Their Guests?

The thought occurs to me this morning that perhaps the reason some talk show hosts talk over their guests is because they could not win a dispute in a fair fight.  That is, they could not win if their guest’s opinions could be heard and reflected upon.  But I really don’t know.  I don’t watch a lot of talk shows. Thoughts?


The First Secret You Shared

That first secret you shared.
Ages ago. What was it now?
It was a window, wasn’t it?
A window into your self
that you cracked open just enough
for a slight breeze to slip through
bearing a hint of your scent.
You smelled of Summer,
lost canyons, and growth.

From the forthcoming second edition of Sunburst Woman, due to be released in a few months.  The second edition will contain many new poems, in addition to poems from the first edition.

Sunburst Woman is a collection of poems about emotional intimacy.  The first edition is currently available on Amazon in both paperback and ebook versions at prices significantly under $10.


Hi Ho Silver!

Yesterday, I had just finished printing out a poem for my next book, when someone knocked.  It was Molly, come to visit me with her dog, Silver.

I am clueless what triggered her, but the moment Silver crossed my threshold, she shot straight to my printer tray, grabbed the poem, and commenced chewing.  I was stunned, and couldn’t think of a thing to say other than, “My poem!”.

But Molly, looking quite embarrassed for her dog, replied, “I’m sorry, Paul, but you see — Silver has good taste in poetry.”


Get Your Free Poetry Sampler!

I have prepared for your pleasure a free Sampler of nine poems from Sunburst Woman: And Other Poems About Intimacy.  These poems are honest, down-to-earth, and accessible.  They use striking metaphors and imagery to convey my occasionally scandalous notions about emotional intimacy.  And the Sampler is available without cost or obligation.

The Sampler is formatted as a pdf, and to get your free, no strings, no obligations copy, simply contact me via the form located in the header of this blog.  I will email the pdf to you as soon as possible.


The Writing Teacher

It’s hard to be a good writer without being a great reader.

The man who taught me that was a family friend and high school teacher who lived down the block from me while I was growing up. He and his wife were over for dinner one evening when I brought up the subject of how writing was taught in our high school.

I’m afraid I was rather rude about it — being all of 16, and knowing everything. The man was not an English teacher (he taught shop), but I’m sure some of the English teachers were friends of his. My criticisms could have easily seemed harsh to him. Nevertheless, he surprised me: Writing, he gently agreed, was not taught “optimally” in our high school.

He went on to explain. It was the fashion in education to teach writing by diagramming sentences. The theory was that diagramming taught students the principles of grammar and good sentence structure — lessons they could transform into good writing.

But in his opinion, the best way to learn how to write well was to read good writing in order to actually see how it was done.

For me, it was one of those moments when someone says something that makes everything else fall into place. Suddenly, I knew what to do if I was to become a better writer.

Tragically, that was one of the last lessons he ever offered anyone. A few days later, he without warning died of a heart attack while still a relatively young man.

Rest in peace, Ben Haddock.