I don't agree with those who say,
    "Poetry is for the masses."
Poetry is mine I adamantly proclaim.
Only with those who beg nicely will I share.
    okay, I'm somewhat easy - 
    a simple please and you've got me.
But seriously… 

"Its words," you say, "are everyone's."
Perhaps, I admit, in theory.
But when placed in certain orders
    the words cease to be,
    and what is there is not free
I assure you.

The syllables rustling in the winds,
    (past Webster's definitions)
    the gusts of connotations,
phrases begetting words begetting phrases … 
interpretation swallowing as consciousness raises
    jubilee of understanding!

Then questions calm toward comprehending.

"It's mine alone; get your own."
I think everyone should feel this way.
"Poetry is mine" - try it on for size.
Enjoy it alone, or in the company of friends
    who disagree and claim that poetry is theirs.

4 thoughts on “Mine

  1. It is amazing how something so intimate, the words you speak become the property of all who hear them, Spoken words are the essence of life for you cannot say them without depriving yourself of the very breath on which your life depends. And the written word becomes the property of, not those that read them, but of those who accept them. – Thanks for following Writing I Am. – Aloha – pjs.

  2. Pingback: On a Wing and a Prayer | interruptingcow


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