When Old Men Cry

when the brain is bold
the pen is pregnant;
and nine months stretch
out over an inch 
under the title still
like expectant father
waiting for a kick
and you’ll feel a flurry
but knowing this can be a trick,
those uterine lines
need nutrition,
don’t tear at that gut feeling:
let them gestate for
monday evenings
exceptional in convention
when your lady spills her drink
all over the bathroom floor,
and now your water’s breaking, too
all down your cheeks
and onto your
baby.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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Novotny Avatar
March 23, 2012 at 12:49 PM
Very interesting metaphor you develop. Nice work. Congratulations on being featured. - Chuck
Roske Avatar
March 23, 2012 at 6:42 AM
interesting way to compare writing a piece of work to having a child - like this very much!
Brown Avatar
March 22, 2012 at 7:03 AM
Congratulations on your well deserved featured write this week Samuel. Love,Carol
Breidenthal Avatar
March 19, 2012 at 5:47 PM
This is very clever. I love how you used the common idea of pregnancy and incorporated into this interesting concept. Welcome to the website by the way. Brilliant. Always, Laura
Collins Avatar
March 19, 2012 at 7:28 AM
Dear Samuel, Thank you for your creative writing this morning. I've been reading and have been surprised and moved and loving it. This one, in particular, moves far beyond comparing the poet to a father. It holds images and thoughts so specific and illustrative that it begs to be read again and again. love, Kathy
Andresen Avatar
March 16, 2012 at 1:31 PM
Hello from Norway Samuel :Welcome to P-Soup hope you will writing and reading alot poem here.Thank you for sharing this today.- oxox hugs Anne-Lise
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