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Saturday, 6 May 2023

Secret Poetry

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

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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