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A Poem Is
by Mark StoneA poem is a thought you cannot shake
Like a fly it keeps buzzing in your ear
Deftly evading the slap of your hand
Until finally it alights
Only to end
A dark smear of pain under your thumb
A poem is an oracle you attempt to defy
Auditioning for every vocation
Limping about your wasteland
Like King Oedipus
Till at last the blood of self-awareness
Spatters the clean white sheet
A poem is the last draft dodge
Left before they ship you off to the Big War
After every appeal is rejected
And every attempt to evade the issue has failed
Only then can you bear to pick up the pen
And write
04/17/2013 Posted on 04/17/2013
Copyright © 2024 Mark Stone
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 04/17/13 at 10:47 AM Well stated, and so true. Whether the poet is "down under," like yourself, or "up north," like me. |
| Posted by Johnny Crimson on 04/17/13 at 01:30 PM That last stanza is perfect. I would only dare to second it with "or grab your lighter and burn that card to ashes. :) Great write. |
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