Poetry with a life of its own

The poet centres
her universe within words;
dinner burns again.

I wrote that a few years ago, when poetry first bit me. On a critique forum it caused a bit of a furore – not regarding its form (senryu – related to haiku but less strict about references to nature, season etc) but as to whether it was sexist, post-feminist or whatever. It was the first time I’d seen my own work snatched away, dissected and debated in a way I’d never contemplated. Flattering in some ways and rather peculiar in others – I felt people were making assumptions about me as a person, not the poem’s MC necessarily, based on 17 syllables: “Simples”?

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2 Responses to Poetry with a life of its own

  1. Ron says:

    Some people just have too much time on their hands coupled with an overinflated sense of self worth. I thought it was brilliant. But then, who am I really…

    Shiny baubles stored
    the morning star lights a path
    old dragon takes wing

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