Secret Poetry

Here's something I first wrote in 2009, but this is a slightly different version...

MY SECRET

I go to my secret place in the poetry garden

not many people know about that

but you know all my secrets anyway so it’s okay

It's my poetry patch really where I grow poetic things

my favourite poems are the weeds

I cultivate them ad hoc in my mind

But they (other poets) grow theirs naturally

as nature does sometimes

I will cut an edge perhaps prune a word or three

mostly I just watch things grow

climb up the poet tree

and sit atop the branches

where the fairies swing is tied

to watch them mirror dancing

(they only tire at sunset)

When I come back down to earth

this is the poem that wrote itself

it told me to write it down like this:

Making monkey mayhem

funky madness

sitting up the poet tree

writing down every word that she whispers to me

the secret of the ages of the rings

the way the wordy wordy wordy sings

everything she brings from where she comes

where she goes nobody really knows

she recites her wordy words to my world

my world doesn’t hear a thing she says

(the wind blows her words whispering to me)

She sister she secret society she says silently – hoping I can hear

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