“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label accusations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label accusations. Show all posts
Sunday, February 3, 2019
Miss Demeanor
Rather than
Not being good at
Anything,
I mistakenly over-
heard
People reading
The writing
I left on the walls
And instead of calling
It graffiti
They said it was
Good, they called it
Poetry, they read my
Name
and it became an
Accusation.
Painting by Pompeo Molmenti (1819-1894) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
Accusations to try
I did not break in or force my way through
I did not let go
too early
I did not make you
do, say, or think maybe there is
more
I did not know more than you
I did not
do anything
About it
I did dig (in)
deeper than the surface layer
I did
hang on
longer than I should
I did give all I had, every day
which was not enough
somedays
I did want to quit
but did not.
I did grow too fast
and hit my head
on your ceiling
I did (not do)
all I could
to (not) deny
all that I
did
and I
did
not
do
enough
for I
before it was all
over
done and said.
Image By Arrow Films (site poster) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And then...
Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign, at first...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...