I’m not too proud to say
please write a new poem through me
and I promise not to claim that
I wrote it myself…
or if that’s too much to ask,
just a line somewhere, that I’ll watch
as it writes itself and know
that you, not I, write it
or if that’s too much to ask,
open an old book at
a page that smells just faintly
of attar of roses, and know that
Rumi read this page too
or sitting quietly waiting for a poem,
or after a poem, and there’ll be
a slight breeze for a moment
carrying the memory of a rose
from an old Persian species
mixed with the faintest scent of wild herbs
after desert rain
or if that’s too much to ask,
just the occasional memory
that you lived, and wrote,
and a poem comes to mind
as if you’re reading it first to a friend
and I’ll smile and look at
the rose in the blue and white vase over there,
neither of us caring about time
while your book lies open by the window,
the breeze turning the pages gently
as if it knew which poem to choose
The more I learn about the creative spirit, the more I am convinced that all poems write themselves. The poet who moves the pen (taps the keys) just needs the right amount of humility, courage and sensitivity to keep up. Thank you both. love Allie xxxxxxxxxxx
And i'm not too proud to say...'''I wish i had written this '''...! Smooth, Michael! Frank/FjcR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You didn't write it directly yourself? Hmmn.... could have sworn it has that charming, humbling, graceful M-ring about it.... :) t x