Silly people
Who think poetry happens
At a clean desk
With a candle lit
At "writing time."
I write my poetry
Standing knee deep in the ocean;
Steering with my knee cap on a back road;
Under the arm of a lover;
Waiting for my squash to cook.
Who think poetry happens
At a clean desk
With a candle lit
At "writing time."
I write my poetry
Standing knee deep in the ocean;
Steering with my knee cap on a back road;
Under the arm of a lover;
Waiting for my squash to cook.
Poetry is not a place
Or a time of day.
It's a way of being.
Or a time of day.
It's a way of being.
Hannah Frankman
Published with permission of the author
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Photo - Mystic Meandering
Great poem about writing poetry! Well thought out!
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