You often wonder if you are really and truly a poet, equivalent to a Serious Woman in a Windsor chair, quoting proficiently, maybe even from other languages, who owns a dour suit for special occasions, someone who does not wear shoulder length earrings,
ahh sister poet friend/ Coleridge was so stoned he forgot the Rime he dreamed/ maybe absinthe instead of your negronis/
and some wore dull Victorian colors only because/ brilliant dyes from plants cultivated by enslavement/ were refused or measured like sugar/backbreaking sweets./we are poets because/ somedays while eyes and hands seek market surprises/ in brilliant colors/ while we chat with market women/ we hear a rhythm/ and honor it/ our heads nodding/ earrings grazing our shoulders
A poet is someone who embraces Esther Cohen's doubt about poets...
ahh sister poet friend/ Coleridge was so stoned he forgot the Rime he dreamed/ maybe absinthe instead of your negronis/
and some wore dull Victorian colors only because/ brilliant dyes from plants cultivated by enslavement/ were refused or measured like sugar/backbreaking sweets./we are poets because/ somedays while eyes and hands seek market surprises/ in brilliant colors/ while we chat with market women/ we hear a rhythm/ and honor it/ our heads nodding/ earrings grazing our shoulders
Beautiful!!! See you Tuesday xxxx
Spectacular
Even fake poets don't wear suits. Or do they?
https://www.poetinasuit.co.za/
May you always be an illegitimate poet!
Maybe…or maybe not!
This is marvelous! Thank you.
A gem 💜
Wonderful poem by a true poet.
That may be a poet, but SO ARE YOU!
I think poets should be mischievous and curious, with unruly hair and unruly minds. In my arrogant opinion.
I think a certain amount of arrogance looks good on a poet, or on any woman for that matter. On men? No.
👍🏻