Why Some Poems Don't Make It!

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The trouble with poems, I think,
is they each demand a meaning,
like children screaming for food and drink.
I dress them all up prettily
in fine words, and watch them preening,
scheming at what they're meant to be.

How am I to know? Not enough
that I've borne them. The ungrateful
brats want values and stuff
like the others have. I fill them
with love, but fear that ones so hateful
ought not to live. So I kill them.

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UnderYourSpellUnderYourSpellover 14 years ago
~

A very clever idea once my poems are out there they can go and make their own living there's no coming home again

EroticOrogenyEroticOrogenyover 14 years ago
Mine just sort of wither up

and the pencil dust blows away.

(That also can happen to ones I start, but don't come back to).

Do like the children simile.

One thing came to mind while reading your poem is Ciardi's 'A poem should not mean, but be', something I try to keep in mind.

normal jeannormal jeanover 14 years ago
ohhhh, my, a murderess!!

and I would venture to say that any serious poet has done his or her share of the killing. Again, you have posted a poem that I truly enjoyed. Loved the point of view. My favorite way of "disposal" is drowning, as I love water and adore a river.

I especially enjoyed the way you compare your new poems as spoiled brats, that is totally cute and so easy to relate to. I have brats, but they are hidden away under different alts ;)

please keep writing because this fan looks forward to each new posting of your work.

~ NJ

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