Realizing

The world of poetry makes me sad…

            Wondering what could work with these words.

Talking talking, telling, and terribly tired of these things.

Making moves, melodies and motion.

 

Wondering what would work with these words…

            Casually concerning yourself with connectionless humans.

Making movies, melodies and motion.

Easily excited and excellently eccentric.

 

Casually concerning yourself with corrupt counterparts…

            Slowly realizing this is what I do.

Eccentrically excellent and excited easily.

There’s no telling how far we’ve gone.

 

Slowing realizing this is what I do…

            Listening, learning and lingering on poets and poems I love.

There’s no telling how far it’s gone…

Poetry will never come back.˙

Reviews

[Emily B]

I learned to hide in books when I was a little girl. I learned that poets know. I learned that if I read the words often enough I remembered them. And when I was lonely I could pluck the words from my memory so that I wasn't as alone.

It never occurred to me to be a poet. Not until much later.

[jon cass]

nice.
i dig the ebb & flow.
the voice is infectious & slick.

always listening, learning, & lingering.


-jc

[Wondering Mind]

I see poetry shining right here, to stay.

[.]

. oh gosh ... this is a masterpiece ... like no other ... (and the alliteration is simply mind-blowing) ...