The Novelist

Her novel
wasn’t really
novel at all but
a love`story told
ten`thousand times
Her plot a giant squid
with more tentacles
than manageable
for any writer
even a writer
with skill

she’d spend
at the computer
in the dark kitchen
reading & rereading
one page after another
editing punctuations
but never changing
one single phrase
she had written
so long ago

We found her
on an afternoon
her clock stopped
at ten past midnight
at her old kitchen table
hands on the key`board
the hundreds of pages
of her novel deleted
and in their place
one lyrical

“You choose to be a novelist, but you’re chosen to be a poet.” ~ May Sarton

About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Novelist

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s