Saturday, April 23, 2016

A Month of Favorite Poetry, Day #22

As I choose whatever favorite poem I'll share each day, I really do it at random.  You see, when I read book of poetry I have  habit of doggy-earing my favorite poems so I can revisit them  with ease.  I have literally hundreds of books of poetry, about poems, of essays and writing and literature textbooks from college.

Today I share one from the literary journal The Raintown Review, Volume 8 (2009).

I think what draws me to this poem is the truth-speak of what it means to be a writer.  To publish that tiny book of poetry and await the postman to bring you the prized possession that you've worked on for so long.  Really when you hold something as small as a book in your hand, with maybe a few notable places of publication, sometimes it's easy to feel discouraged.

I've been there a couple of times....until I remind myself of why it is I write:  because I love to.  Because I have a gift to share.  Because it brings me pleasure and enlightens me and fills the empty spaces inside.  Oh, I cant even list here the many-numbered things writing does for me.  So, publications or not; rather I ever win and award or long as the process of writing brings me joy, I'll continue to do so.

Slight of Hand
by Janey Kenny

the postman brings it
the little journal
shrink wrapped with poetry
sparse and tasteful
mots justes to burn
in a manner of speaking
each word paid for
with hard net-working

thin little poems
elegant plastic
and pale in meaning

in the back pages
the words that matter

who the poets are
but never abortions
crimes or betrayals

poems forgotten
but names remembered
follow this taxi
to be dismembered

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