Very Far To Go
Sometimes I'm writing poetry
and other times it seems
I'm pushing words around
as a way to have dreams
with no solution or resolution
to the question: what is Is?
Following some pattern
with a myriad of names
in order to push words into a Form
that, often, when I hear it read
seems dead.
Dead to spontaneity, dead to frivolity.
Must poetry remain so staid,
so reserved, so used as a significant ruse
of persnickety profundity
or philosophical platitudes?
Yawn.
I only want Now to be what Is ...
words that just go on and on and on
hoping always that I have very far to go.
Copyright © Sue Mason | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment