a shotgun blast of poetry
poems wing -zing themselves through the air
hitting me on the back, in the neck, in the ear
I am being pelted by them on a daily basis.
The only way to get away is to write them down.
They begin to settle when they realize I am honoring them.
Thus, I keep a pen handy in restaurants, while waiting for soccer practice,
in the doctor’s office.
You never know when a good one is going to come full out at you.
I blame my freckles on a shotgun blast of poems.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment