Oh, you're still here?
I wandered away for a bit.
Not realizing you would remain
Seated and patiently waiting for the next poem.
The truth is, I never have believed
My poetry was all that good.
Compared to yours, compared to anyone's
Especially compared to the dead poets
Of my former acquaintance.
The truth is, my poetry
is simple and maybe pedestrian
is theraputic and less universal
than I had once hoped.
The truth is, my poetry
Speaks to me and I can't expect
any more from it than that.
How could it be your truth
Unless you deliberately misinterpret it?
But if you do choose to wring out
Some arcane truth of your own design,
I can't stop you, unless I stop writing.
So keep on sitting there and try
To wrap your head and heart around this next one.
Comments
Clayton Medeiros
August 13, 2013
Permalink
You
Wonderful poem about you being you in a poem about you. Well and charmingly said.