My poem entitled "Sin" shows up every once in awhile in various venues. This time, Edwina Trentham used the poem as the basis for a writing workshop she taught. I'm grateful it is taking on a life of its own!
Here's the poem again….
Sin
The worst part is failing to kiss the ground each morning.
Or the cold pot of resentment stirred and simmered
well into the evening. Everything else comes from this,
grows.
It wouldn’t be so bad if such immense portions of good fortune
weren’t squandered each hour, minutes the long dead
would ransom their lives to regain.
Even now, ripe apples lie rotting casually about the floor,
single bites taken from each—there is
no worm, no snake…
only this failure to praise.
The poem first appeared in the journal Freshwater…..the editor Edwina Trentham had done an interview citing this poem as one of her favorites, which was posted next to her computer as a reminder of gratitude. Glad it gets picked up every once in awhile.