Trump: The stable genius of this era. Or so we’ve been told, by none other that the big guy himself.
And maybe he is.
After all, everything is relative; perception is everything and if beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then why not genius? Or not just genius - but stable genius.
So a friend asked me to write a poem mocking a political figure - like, for example, our current prez. Inwardly, I groaned. Not my thing. Not politics, not satire, and definitely not getting into negative tirades. She explained it’s a Day of the Dead tradition. Imagine him dead, and write his legacy or something like that, but with humor. She wanted poems to hand out at an art event, knew I love to write, thought she’d ask.
I agreed to give it a go as long as I could be playful. Yes, yes, she agreed. At first I doubted I’d come up with anything, but then, always appreciating a reason to write, thought I’d jot a few things if something comes up.
No worries. No upstream drama to write a masterpiece, just downstream flow and ease and inspiration.
Later that day some phrases came to me. Then some more. I ended up writing most the poem that evening before bed then waking with ideas to finish it. The one line, “Too late” actually came to me a full day later.
So here it is. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Deep into my career as an elementary school teacher, I started asking myself if I was still an artist. Can you be an artist if you're not doing any art? Am I a writer if I'm not writing? For me, ARTIST is a verb. Writer too. Do what you love and JOY will come. Maybe money too, but I've discovered without joy, everything else is meaningless.