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Our Poems Are Our Children
by Charlie Morgan
Our Poems Are Our Children
An eye of scrutiny carries a sheath of sword-words,
that leave you tired and cut.
Our shoulders bend from the weight of suggestion.
"I would put this here." "Put that there!"
So certain as a Monday's wash--colors here, whites there--
are the critics that their march is endless.
Over our bodies, bones and soul do they tromp.
"Take this out and put this in."
Would they take a newborn and twist her arms?
Pull her legs to make them longer?
Can't they see the birth process that makes us parents,
also makes us protectors, guarantors of life
as we fight til the end for her.
Or would they exclaim, "What a gorgeous child!"
04/08/2003 Posted on 04/08/2003
Copyright © 2024 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 04/09/03 at 02:22 AM A concept explored many times, but given relevant new perspective through the imagery and metaphor you use here. Well done! |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 04/09/03 at 02:31 PM You have managed to capture the angst of writing and sharing with the world... yes, it is like giving birth, but more to the point, one's child is as precious as life. Beautifully done, Chazman. So wonderful to see you back. I didn't know. |
| Posted by Agnes Eva on 04/10/03 at 05:04 PM they are, they are! our little creations to the world, just wanting love and attention :) |
| Posted by Jean Mollett on 06/08/08 at 02:40 AM Hi Charlie,
Great write. That's a different way at looking at our works. Never thought about them that way.
You have a way with words. You're right sometimes they do need our attention, and love. :) |
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