Control Freak
Not enough?
Are you afraid
You see yourself in me?
You made me into this.
You pushed,
punched,
ripped,
hit me into this.
You told me what to be,
how to be,
who to be.
Be like you?
Can’t you see I’m free?
You can’t keep controlling me.
I’d die first.
That’s what I would do.
Everyone would blame you.
I've been writing bad poetry for years. To do it weekly should be a trip. This weekend was beautiful, weather-wise, killed my joints walking the art fest (the only truly original thing I saw was an exhibit of wood-cuts-block prints that were lovely.) But I got the two Adirondack chairs I wanted, on sale.
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4 comments:
i could completely relate to this poem! thanks for jumping on the train Carol!
Neat poem, Carol! I hope you'll rise to the weekly poetry train challenge!
No - it's not BAD poetry!! It's honest poetry. I think that some people (let's call them snobs, just for the sake of a title) think that unless a poem is full of imagery and symbolism, unless it takes a class of 10th graders an entire semester to figure out, it can't be good.
I see poetry as a reflection of your soul in a moment in time. And yours was EXCELLENT.
Thanks for sharing.
Thanks, guys, each and every one of you. I so appreciate your comments. Wyle, I agree, to me poetry has to be accessible and not quite so hung up on form. Not that form is bad. Shakespeare did well with form. But, if your imagery and sympolism is so subtle that it obscures the meaning, then you are not communicating, and that, after all, is what it's all about.
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