Poem 55

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Write me a poem

Go on try your hand

Throw words on a page

See what shape they take

Do they make sense

Will they touch me

Set me on fire

Repulse me

Love me

Take me to your heart

Send me far away.

You have a gift

I wish I could do what you do

I wonder why I don’t

Can’t

Wont.

You are you,

You make words I cannot make

Your words sing

Where mine stammer

Your words are magic

Where mine fumble

lost in the dark

Stumbling forward.

Your words attract thousands

Mine single figures.

If you like

Say my name

I am happy.

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16 Responses to Poem 55

  1. Michael…Michael…Michael 🙂 x

  2. Anja's avatar Anja says:

    At first I thought you were speaking to someone who never writes….lovely poem.

  3. Wonderful!! You are too hard on yourself though – your writing is lovely! 🙂 🙂

  4. RoSy's avatar RoSy says:

    Well – I’m a fan! 🙂

    Roses are red
    Violets are blue
    Michael, Michael, Michael!

  5. Helen is right- you are way too tough on yourself. Your writing is wonderful, Michael; don’t sell yourself short. 🙂

  6. Gabriella's avatar Gabriella says:

    This is a good poem Michael! You should not be so critical of yourself.

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