Well then.
I fell far short of my goal. I wanted to write 40 poems in 40 days. I ended up with 14.
On the other hand, I refused to write bitter, self-indulgent poetry. I refused to write stupid Haiku about Battlestar Galactica's lame finale. I refused to write fluff. So out of the 14 poems I did write during Lent this year, a larger percentage were of better quality. I know that runs counter to what I wanted to allow myself to do, but there it is.
I have had some serious emotional blows the last 40 days. Also, some moments of bliss mixed in for good measure. I preserved some of it in poetry form. Some of it I would rather forget.
In any case, the second annual 40 days project is over. Spring is here in earnest. Now what? I'm always curious about what the future holds. I never want to wait for it.
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