Some poems are contrivances
Some poems are contrivances
Composed of hinges, hooks, and clasps.
Unlatched, they trigger secret springs
That snag the skin, and snap and grasp
Toward a center point. Undone,
The reader finds the poem's core -
It's fleshy heart, composed of flesh
Of readers, snagged and grasped before.
2 comments:
Wow! This is an excellent ars poetica! (A little bit of horror movie in it again, but I like that). I wished my poems were like that (I mean, both as good as your poem AND as good as you describe "some poems" in this poem). All poetry should grasp and cut the flesh to core, and should keep readers prisoners forever.
Yes, I do write a little poetry too. I am mostly just embarrassed by it, but I keep going for some reason.
I can sympathize with the difficult-to-publish aspect of poems :). Thank you for enjoying it. What poems have you read that do this to you?
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