On July 7th I caught up to the fact that writing friend Bridgette had embarked on one of her #100 jaunts, this time with poetry. I decided to join and wrote a couple a day until I caught up. (Somewhere along the line my poem number equaled the date in July.) It became both easier and more difficult. I think I’ll do a full download in a day or two, but today, the knowledge that the finish line has been crossed is exhilarating. I feel pretty good about it, and as I’m just regaining my energy after a lengthy battle with the flu, it’s good timing.

Here's to a century of poems!
To the angelic Muse who inspired
where human thought faltered.
To pain examined, to sorrow freed,
to joy remarked and justly praised.

Here's to blather, whimsey, musicality,
studious lexical construction, 
obstinacy, dread. To sheer, stubborn
perseverance. To posturing, to
pretense, to ego filled and deflated.

Here's to subjects barely scratched
and to those wrung dry. To daily
forays into unknown spaces, led
on by Trust, by Belief, by extra-
ordinary Chutzpah, by Faith.

Here's to allowing oneself to learn
by doing or perhaps by not-doing—
by re-examining the Done and
separating it from the Not Done
(the fantasy following us forever).

Here's to Attitude! To Meekness,
to Gracious Acceptance when
your best garners nothing, but
your mediocrity reaps praise
beyond your understanding.

Here's to not understanding
your own poem yet thinking
you can critique someone else's.
To mighty draughts of Ego 
sipped daily at a keyboard altar.

As with any history, this one
lumbers past its usefulness.
One hundred created anythings 
seems remarkable enough. Why
bother rehashing the hashed?

(because it feels so damn good!)

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100/100
Oh! 100 poems in 100 days!