Okay, spring is here right? Then why does my GPS say it's going to get as cold as 42 degrees this weekend? Makes me wonder...and when I am driving around wondering, I tend to start mentally wandering. So, I guess this is more of a random thought than a behind the scenes glance. I mean with this job, we are very busy...but sometimes like today when we are driving to Leonardtown...there's plenty of time to think. When the traveling is done, I come back to the station and write those random thoughts down. Below is the product of that "spare" time.        

Bad Weather

 By Shawn Hoder

Writing makes me open to ideas

Or closed to my thoughts,

But more open than not

So it’s a kind of tight knit therapy

For a weary minded philosopher, struggling to be.

Yep that’s me.

Complicated times three.

Welcome to the Hoder identity.

Prose and format?

More like a broken doorbell and a doormat.

I don’t understand poetry,

I can’t even begin to write a rhyme

Not one that goes up and down the same way every line.

Because, I’m not a poet and this is not a poem

Maybe more like a list, or a problem, or a comb

Of a list of problems

Weird? Yeah I know, it's total (expletive deleted),

So put it down if you mind it.

But if you haven’t put it aside

There are more pathetic attempts to find.

The kink or the biggest problem in my time

Is the simple fact that I am an enigma.

Yeah, that's right. It’s my plight.

Nothing rhymes with enigma by the way,

It’s my stigma

A contradiction of sorts today.

What’s my meaning?

Well, keep reading.

I love to write but can’t read

I mean I can read - like read,

But not that fancy curvy stuff they tried to teach me,

Looks like Latin upside down on a willow tree.

There is nothing more confusing than that

I might as well cover my eyes with a hat.

Every time I come up flat.

Can’t seem to grasp the concept around that.

Cursive?

Not me.

The only cursive I know comes on line sixty-eight

Or back on line seventeen.

That doesn’t even make sense to me. 

That being said, well, written I guess

Gives you insight into how I digest

What thoughts come to mind

Over and over, time after time,

Huh, that sounds like a Cyndi Lauper rhyme.

I hope writing this makes me feel better

Again not a poem, maybe a letter.

Better?

Never.

Well, maybe not never,

But surely not forever.

Wow, could this be a more boring header?

Definitely, but not entirely,

But be at least an entertaining letter.

Remember again

It’s not a poem my friend,

It’s the fact that it was a short

More to the point than not

But a boring little plot.

Something, I thought.

But it still got

You to read it - hopefully a lot

I wanted you to laugh

Or at least get through half

Of a letter that belongs in the trash.

In the trash?

Kiss my (expletive deleted),

I worked hard on this poetic blast

That’s the gratitude that gets passed?

My mind is racing beating all who enter

Attacking the fibers

Raising my ire

Jumping over the embers

I wanted therapy

I needed to hear me

That’s why I wrote her

Another attempt failed by this mister Hoder

I hoped this would make me feel better.

Not now, but maybe later.

But not forever.

Just enough to get past this bad weather.