She says
“Today I finally finished a poem.”
“ Congratulations.”
I say.
She says
“It took me two months.”
“Really? ”
I say.
On my face is a look of admiration.
So much dedication for a simple poem.
But my heart wears a face of puzzlement.
So much work for a poem?
A poem is free writing.
A poem is thoughts, feelings, emotions.
You write what thy heart feels, not what thy brain thinks.
Maybe –
If you want to get a message across-
You revise it.
But truly,
A real poem does not take two months.
A two month poem
Is like Galileo’s work revised by the Church.
A two month poem
Is like a three hundred page story being submitted for a paragraph of an encyclopedia.
A two month poem
Is not a real poem.
In a real poem,
You have something to say.
The words flow and after a moment of thinking,
They are before you on the page
A narration of your thoughts, your feelings.
Some real poems
Are meant to change something.
And then,
They may turn into a
Two day poem.
But never a two month poem.
Because a two month poem
Is not a real poem.
It is what you want everyone to read
Disguised as stanzas.
A real poem
Is what you want to say
That flows from the heart
And that every now and then
Breaks for the occasional stanza.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A real poem speaks from the heart...but may it please speak from my heart? I have no end of respect for you ot anyone else and I am ever glad that we are all diverse or the poetry would be a bore. Sometimes I work for weeks on a poem. It is coming from my heart no less for that. just sayin' =)