Doubts, they swing open
a door
into a room
with no
walls. They are never
entertaining.
I fall asleep knowing I have
failed my parents.
I write poetry.
In the morning, truth still
matters. So does the sun. I think of
a title: "A Hard Rock To Swallow".
The phone rings. It's you.
A door shuts.
The main difference between a poet and a madman is
.
5 comments:
spamoetry for a crazy day.
There's so much i love about this, Andie. Really all of it, except for a couple lines I find jarring amidst the lovely flow -
the first & last line of stanza one don't work for me. I wonder if doubt remained singular perhaps. And if 'they' speaks of doubts, the last line feels kinda redundant.
Stanza four - I didn't get the meaning of the title.
And, madman sounds harsh to me without more context.
I love the context and the disconnected thoughts of the other lines!
Merci Marjo - the last line was from an email with a friend/discussion. Which was in part about Louis Riel (NOT the May day poets! I should have made a disclaimer...)
I like how you balance the playful and the serious -- and love the interplay between the second and third stanzas.
The title confuses me, though. Also, I'd really like to see some kind of end punctuation, somewhere. I feel like I'm dangling at the end.
One more thing, I don't think you need "They are never entertaining." That first stanza is so strong without it!
Thank you Kerry (there is a scarcely visible period way down at the bottom to hold the place...would an ellipsis help? Or shd I end with a question mark so it gets noticed down there)
I think scratching that line about entertaining works. Originally that first stanza, one sentence, was all the poem was and I was like hm. Minimalist. I can live with this.
Post a Comment