My Poem

by Melissa   Sep 26, 2010


I am an artist
plagued by poem,
always reaching for my pen
as though it were some phantom limb

Words are a riot,
a real coffeehouse act-
with their poets
and novellas
just vying to be read

I've got cigarettes in my pocket,
a fiery chest-
but not enough smoke to gather,
like a halo above my head

I am a hostage to language-
never willing,
nor resisting
the urge to bide time
with thought
and ink

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Latest Comments

  • 13 years ago

    by abracadabra

    Ha, Melissa. So many poets feel so harassed by their own works that they need to write about it. I have done it many times. You have done it well. I can really empathise with this poem. While it is not startlingly beautiful like many of your other poems, it still contains your trademark beautiful lines and no full stops. Great structure, nice images, lovely finish, all that.

    I love your phantom limb.

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