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.26) My Poems Have Their Moods
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.26) My Poems Have Their Moods

Sometimes my poems are shy,
tired of the scrutiny of eyes,
tired of being undressed.

They come and snuggle
under me like baby chicks.

Rested, they venture forth again.
Now they become eyes,
Buttonholing people on corners:
'Pssst—help you see? '

Each has a mission.
Some reveal the hilarity
in the composition of matter.
Some spread the word
that the sky is falling.
Others announce a shout
of joy everywhere at 10 AM.
One tells of a revolution
already begun in the bones.

What do I really know about my poems?
They come out of a place that,
a moment before,
I never knew was there.

Yes, I try to shelter them,
knowing all the while
they're not mine.
That’s just the mystery
of birth and parenthood.
I can't stop this thing I prayed for now.
I think of shutting down
this operation for a real rest,
but it's invisible,
I can't even find it!

User Rating: 3,8 / 5 ( 6 votes ) 6

Comments (6)

this is a really good poem
I find your interpretation of creative zest to be quite delightful. I share the feelings that you have expressed. Well done.
Max - I had a hard time putting my poems out there for public scrutiny, but I remembered what one of my English Lit. profs said, 'poetry is about the reader, not about the poet.' It's what they get from the read - and it may be different with every reader. I know what I meant, but the idea is to get a reaction from the one who reads the poem. And yes, I don't know where mine come from., either - they start with an incessant word or phrase, and I know it's time to write. Linda
Another work I can relate to! Yes, my poems feel the same way sometimes...shy. :) Be careful of using the word 'that'.
dear max, my poems, they are bit and pieces of everything strewn together
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