Monday morning
Sitting at my desk
The mutual admiration society arrive
Gathering behind me
Following our un-spoken rule
I don’t speak to them...
And they don’t speak to me
The Weekend fables begin:
Drinking
Women
Parties
Then one speaks of writing a poem...
My ears prick up
As the others listen in awe
Time stands still
His new found sport
Psalms of pain and adversity
Bathing in admiration
My customary bashful ego musters a bravery never experienced before
Banging and crashing for freedom
The words are independent in their escape...
“I... write... poetry...”
They all stare at me... “What?”
Mouth dry
Tumbleweed rolling effortlessly across the office...
“I write poetry”
“Who?”
“You?”
They wonder off and stand by the coffee machine
giggling like children
I pick up my damaged ego and put it back into its box
It’s safe there!
Comments
shoe | January 24, 2010 - 16:16
I've never had the nerve to say it out loud, , but I bet it would be just like that, do you think it's harder for a man to "come out" than for a woman?
Hal 9000 | January 24, 2010 - 18:16
I dont' know? I suppose it depends on the person.
Thanks for commenting shoe
kheldar | January 24, 2010 - 19:43
Great poem Mr S. Why is it that we are embarrassed to say we write poetry, do people who paint pictures have the same problem I wonder.
Please don't ever hide your light under a bushell on here, you have much to say (unless of course this is purely a work of imagination, in which case it is now me who feels bashful).
Hal 9000 | January 24, 2010 - 19:57
Thanks kheldar, I'd love to say it's true, but alas it was just in my head, but thankyou for the great response