It's a lot of nothing
he said
this patient I like,
The patient I enjoy.
It's a lot of this and that
here and there
And I agreed.
It is the step taken
The shoe
On the foot
It is the bone, the muscle, the tendons
that are my stories.
Buried in detritus
mired in commonplace.
It isn't the journey.
It isn't the moment, frozen
in language.
It isn't the core of all that is
or was
or never will be
because my tale survives only on the surface.
The cotton fluff would crush and melt
under the weight of meaning
in the magma of his earth.
It is candy versus creation.
It is volume versus molecules of meaning.
It does not have the responsibility of verse,
my universe.
It is what I do.
And this is why I don't write poetry anymore.
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But why not?
ReplyDeleteThere's no right or wrong way to create poetry.
Keep doing it.
Come now... that was a lovely piece, and now you've made it cry (no, poems can't cry but thats not important now.)
ReplyDeleteNo giving up on your gift of language young lady.
I gave up on 'poetry' a long time ago; I now write 'verse' instead, also known as lyrics, rhymes, and sometimes doggerel. It's fun, once one lets go of the whole "POH-etreh" pressure. Sonnets are nice because there's at least a classic recognized technical aspect to the exercise which one can know one has accomplished despite whatever other failures might befall on the fronts of "evocative imagery," "illuminating metaphor," "topical aptness," or the like. Perhaps I should attempt future comments in verse...
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