This is the poem I could never recall how to write.
The sum collection of aspersions cast upon me by my own self.
And somehow, in this I was justified.
Perhaps ‘recall’ is not the word for this poem:
For the reason not to write it.
Indeed, I could ‘recall’ most everything.
But then, affronting most everything is quite another something,
now isn’t it?
And so, I shall begin again…
This is the poem I could never bring myself to write.
The very aching in my heart.
The slow asphyxiation of my soul and of every inhabitant.
These are the words that rejoice in dissecting me
over and over.
Every second.
For all my life.
There are people never meant to see heaven-
Or happy things.
But these doings are my own,
and I think I wrote this poem alone.
Author notes
-Smidge
Written May 8th, 2006
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Comments
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I think you did too. This is too self deprecating, and a bit too much like feeling sorry for yourself for my taste. It's also not up to your usual standards. I've seen you write much better poems. I was a little disappointed with this one. Then again, no one ever really knows anyone else's inner thoughts, and I'm sure you may have felt this way on a time. In any case, you can do much better. I know. I've seen it.
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wow.. i know just how this feels. i've succumbed to the feeling of this.. and gave up for now. great job with this poem.. and keep on writing.
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This poem is very different from what I usually read. Yet, I do like it. It's not cliché. It's original, though a bit sad. You described a depressing mood in a perfect poetic way. Yes, I do like it. Well done. Anna.
Edited on May 09, 5:33 because 'typo'.
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