The fact I’ve written something that looks like a poem doesn’t make me into a poet. Nope. It is only because I’m a woman with words inside her that won’t stop themselves trying to escape – however badly they manifest.
You don’t need to hold on so tight
It’s true, your air-tight fist is unprisable
Proud of never letting go
But look
If your knuckles are white and the veins bulge, what’s going on?
Turn over your hand for a moment and you’ll see
A palm-sweat lagoon of sunken wreckage
It doesn’t matter if it’s the iridescent wings of a moth
Or eggshell hopes
They’ll be crushed all the same
Forever
8:20am
You ARE a poet
Tho you may not know it
I understand poetry to be the condensation of ideas, emotions and dreams in so few words that the reader or listener has to actively engage with the text and is tugged powerfully into a sea of meaning which is both broader and deeper than the letter on the page and whose currents may take the reader so far they adrift they forgot to eat their breakfast.
Please write more poetry.
That’s very kind, Jeannie. You may find yourself awash…