Tuesday, January 3, 2012

making a poem



you keep pushing me from my depth
within my soul, my body, heart and mind
me to will a life of creating lines
breaking, at my own will, those lines

that others like me call it a poem
just like my mother, long ago
put her bigger hand on top of mine
gently, overriding my will, to script mine
 
that in school they called alphabet
thus seeing with her intuitive mind
she liaised with the master poet
submitting her will, in making a poet

31.12.2011


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