PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I think you enjoyed the rut,

the furrow that became a bog, in

which you found yourself; the glut

of sorrow for the "might have been"---

words and gestures overly dramatic

(as if performed from some schematic).

Even then, aspiring to poetry,

your verse sounded like the Confessionals'---

though then they were "all the fashion,"

drowning in shallows of misery,

which you (and they) believed to prove souls' passion.

Your poems were like flamboyant processionals.

These were, merely, bids for sympathy:

I know you knew that, privately.

But, on that campus, you could not admit

that stark and glaring fact publicly---

the persona you had crafted

in all those pages of trash you drafted.

ENVOI:

And you, who had, then, used the name Starwatcher

failed, so often, to look toward the skies;

but that cannot be any real surprise

because, in those days, you were a self-botcher,

sour whines pressed to a vintage others could despise.

Starward