Curing Poetry

 

Curing poetry is an inexact science

not quite an art neither.

The men and women tut and nod

at what I have to say

they feign their interest

and scribble things I cannot see

I think they think I think too much

and I think that they are right

they give me pills to numb .

I think it’s working.

Words that wracked me a month ago

now barely leave a dint on my wrist

it’s all been blunted.

Often I think it was the right thing to do

but I miss my bleak,

my raw.

I am merely bland and fuzzy.

 Oh well

Ho Hum

bring on the greetings cards.

◄ Ceci n'est pas une poeme...

Victoriana ►

Comments

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Isobel

Tue 13th Jul 2010 20:48

I'd second what Cynthia says. If not, the words are surely wracking you now girl! Keep em coming. xx

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Andy N

Tue 13th Jul 2010 13:35

really enjoyed this Rach.. Particularly strong ending I've gotta say.. One of the better things I've seen on here for a little while..Keep em coming! x

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Greg Freeman

Tue 13th Jul 2010 11:30

Good to see you back here, Rach, and good to hear about your work in schools. Sounds like fun!

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 13th Jul 2010 11:27

The poem is fabulous. I surely hope the essence is just imaginary. Interesting ruminations. Wonderful to see you back.

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 13th Jul 2010 10:53

Yes, seconded! Missed you loads! xxxx

Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Tue 13th Jul 2010 10:51

Rachel McGladdery? whose she then? (lol!)lovely to see you back Rach-hope you are well-no tutting and nodding from me-just one blummin big greeting card and thanks for gracing us with your terriff writing-lotser luv-Stef-xx

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