I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

23 June 2017

This Poet Thinks She’s Me

This poet thinks she’s me,
and furthermore that her work is mediocre,
and furthermore to that (further-further-more?)
that she must do it, can’t help it, can't walk away.

‘The stars are green and gold’ she wants to say
right now, but I censor that. It comes in
out of nowhere. It’s a nonsense.
She says it’s pretty. I say, ‘But….’

It has to have a place in the poem, see.
And this is a poem about this poet
who imagines herself to be me, or conversely
that I am she, capital-P Poet.

Clearly, I am more: 
widow, former librarian, friend, cat-lover, witch …
all right all right, so they get into the poems.
So maybe there is only one poet/me.  Then,
am I also green-gold stars? (Am I nonsense?)


Written for Literary Excursions with Kerry ~ Metafiction at 'imaginary garden with real toads'

18 comments:

  1. Oh my gosh, that ending is phenomenal!!!

    "I am green
    and cold, gold stars,

    wanting
    to come together

    but managing instead
    to un-

    constellation myself
    into

    a flailing mist
    of clover

    (op)pressed against
    moldy bread and honey-

    bee
    flavored pee."

    ;)

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  2. You described the process of writing so elegantly!❤️ We do tend to tweak our poems a bit *wink wink*❤️

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  4. I love it, Rosemary! I could be saying all this too if I was poet enough. I like especially, "that she must do it, can’t help it, can't walk away." Not stopping me from writing, I can't help but write. You also.
    ..

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  5. How I enjoyed your dual personality, very very entertaining ( P) poem

    Much love...

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  6. You are more than a poet, and so are we all. What a delightful read and well written too. Warm greetings!

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  7. "that she must do it, can’t help it, can't walk away".. That's a poet for sure, at least I know I feel that way also, good or bad, or indifferent there is an urge.

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  8. I love the voice of this poem, wonderfully self-aware. Perhaps I relate because I have conversations with myself all the time, and not always sotto voce.

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  9. I love this, as well as the green gold stars!

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  10. Yes, yes. We poets are all green-gold stars. Love this reminder to let our poems go where they want to -- a call for free-range poetry despite our writer selves reining them in.

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  11. It's the dance with "green-gold stars" that seasons poetry... and mirth. :-)

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  12. Sometimes I cannot bear my own writing... even decapitating the p... what's an oet?

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  13. Very cleverly written. (the stars meet)

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  14. you are an amalgamation of everything! :)
    I love this meta poem :D

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  15. This is my favorite part:

    "she must do it, can’t help it, can't walk away.

    ‘The stars are green and gold’ she wants to say
    right now, but I censor that."

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  16. A poem of insight and wit, beautifully expressed: to be read again and again. Thank you Rosemary :)

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  17. Really like the internal dialogue, such a good rea here.

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