Poetry for Spring 2009
Cynic
The cynic part of me is too dry
to buy into the liquid beauty of poetry.
Words on a page
read and then forgot
don’t change things.
Then I look at a line
the angle of light on a windowsill
a dusting of graffiti
the cadence of words
and something inside jumps.
Funny, huh?
Odd, if you will.
My soul shakes off the cynic
just for a moment.
A long, fragile moment.
I want more of those moments.
No one said we can’t change.
Pull away the soft paper
from its hard backing.
Leave the ugly yellow glue there.
I don’t care.
It will dry up
and eventually
a fingernail, dirty with living soil
will scratch it away.
And the cynic will be forgot.
---January 19, 2009---
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My semester and my poetry class have come to an end and I will miss them both. Thank to to everyone who contributed lovely poems to this thread. I know spring isn't technically over, but I'm going to ask that no one post more poems here. It is officially CLOSED. Please feel free to explore some of the great poems here and rate and comment--feedback is always appreciated. Thank you all, -FogCat- 10 PARTICIPANTS IN THIS POEM
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Poetry for Spring 2009, which
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FogCat.
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