Poet laureate, I'm not.

I've never considered myself to be a poet, despite my penchant for writing jingles for every occasion in the life of my daughter Andrea and my grandson Adam.  Andrea received a birthday poem every year from age 16 to 21 and a "wedding poem" on the occasion of her marriage.  Adam was the recipient of poems all through high school and college, ending in his graduation from the University of Florida, although I think I remember writing a poem when he married Amy.

I mention this because I have just entered a poetry contest.  Don't ask why.  It's not exactly Emily Dickinson style poetry, actually it's more like haiku, very off beat, and really shouldn't rhyme, but it is a contest.  And the more I read about it, the more I knew I had to at least try.

This is O, Miami month here in Miami.  O, Miami is a Knight Foundation-funded organization that expands and advances literary culture in Greater Miami, FL.  At least that's what it says on the web site.  It produces visiting writer series and other programs that bring the best literature to the greatest number of people.  It also produces an annual Poetry Festival and this year they are asking entries to write an "Ode To Their Zip Code".  In other words, a five line poem with each line having the exact amount of words as the numbers in your zip code.

My zip code is 33133.  Not a lot of letters to work with, that's for sure, and please remember, I live in a place called Coconut Grove, and they tend to look for weird.  Here's my entry:

ODE TO 33133

Groove on, Grove.
Miami's last vestige
of
the bohemian lifestyle
disappearing into air.
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The winners get to read their entries aloud at the Festival's grand finale.  I'll let you know how I do.  Don't hold your breath.

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