Oh, Really!

Most poemsblue silly putty - stretched
including mine
are just little pieces of crap
they slip and slide and slap
at meaning, at rhythm
scratching at emotion within
word exercises
thought exercises
soul exorcisms
pulling, stretching, pushing,
grunting, groaning, sweating
leading to somewhere
going to nowhere
or is it the other way around
crawling on the ground
pawing at images and sound
not knowing what’s been found
and you the writer have little idea
and you the reader more or less
find yourselves under stress
to create meaning from this mess
that some dang fool like me
thought to call poetry.

Oh, really?

Oh, Really!

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