I've begun taking a poetry class once a week, which means (theoretically) a lot more output.
So here's a draft I wrote last Tuesday which I kind of liked. The prompt was to write a "poetry poem" starting with "A poem is...".
POETRY POEM
A poem is flowering across you, mossy:
Slap it off your face and smack it down
onto a page. Or don't; I'll peel
and steal it.
In the air it comes to life.
Crusty letters crumple out,
origami polaroids
and maybe it's not ours anymore
but your crease is there, mine here. We're
makers, or something, shaping the ashes that land
in our hands,
our palms charcoal.
Can we breathe now?
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1 comment:
i like this poem. some of my favorite bukowski poems are about 'poems' and 'poetry'
have you ever watched the movie 'dead poets society'?
i emphatically recommend it if you have not seen it
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