Well, since you asked,
I must admit
that, yes,
I am
a poetess.

When life goes fast
I harness it,
with some finesse
and unplanned process.

I don’t quite know
just how it comes–
sometimes my writing fingers
are all thumbs–

but I allow big Life to flow,
and, when I’ve luck,
I pick some plums,

which brings
some kind replies
from some,
who say
the presence of my work
presents to them
a sign they’re blessed,

I’ve found
I get no pass
from certain others,
who see my work as worthless drafts,
(even stuff that is,
in my own eyes,
among my best),

Such words as these
from those who protest:

“There really is
no value there–
it’s just like spitting
in the air. . .
From the life that we’re all living here,
you merely craft
a wild digress.”

Mind you,
escaping them
is this–
this work I do
is where I pour
my heart and soul,
and maybe even more
than I do into
a true and deep and loving kiss.

Which view is true?
I can’t but leave that
up for you
to choose
(for you),

but between just God and me,
(and, by virtue of this poem, you)
I’ll keep on doing what I do–

For, you see,
it seems to me,
that this is real.

It is my life
to breathe,
give out,
just as feels
natural and right. . .
just so it is with me
to write–

write words
that shape
my poetry,

and then,
what will be up to me
as a poetess,
is to drive still on
much better yet,
than if I felt desperate to pass
some rigid, qualifying, road test.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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