The Poet Alone: A revolutionary sonnet

The silence deafens
and suprises me;
the lack of women’s letters
I’d hoped to see.

Perhaps SuperBusyWomen
don’t, after all, have the time
to leave their hurried, rushed lives
and listen to my rhyme.

Perhaps she who I put on the shelf
was right!
But still, my keyboard and I forge
into the empty night.

Where I discover poetry is writ not for she,
nor them, nor thee, but — alone — for me.

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3 Responses to “The Poet Alone: A revolutionary sonnet”

  1. C Says:

    Good to see you writing after a short break. And good to see you writing for YOU!

  2. J Says:

    I once knew a man who wooed me
    Along a cold clear path through the woods
    He spoke soft sweet nothings
    His words spilled out so easily

    We held hands and I stole a kiss
    He looked as though something was amiss

    Then, Poof!
    He was gone like the mist
    And all I was doing was looking for love
    As I gazed into the darkened trees above
    Alone again

  3. cyranowriter Says:

    Thoughts On A Tree Branch: A Revolutionary Response ConTEXTing Poem:

    U poofed me,/
    not I thee!/
    As far as I could tell/
    your words fell/
    crashing/
    dashing/
    gashing!/
    Like the bough/
    from your tree/
    was how/
    your silent stare/
    crushed me!

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