All This Poetry I'Ve Read (Adds Up To Something) - Poem by Simina Pitur
Learning the way of words,
a six year old
consciously reading Carroll.
A twelve year old
in distress, reading Plath.
A flown away bird
And then the graduation
and afterwards the job
nine to fiveness
shopping from supermarkets
paying with sticky tickets
worrying about the sink, about
toilet paper and not having cash
saving money for failed vacations
buying things you don't need
meeting people you don't get
wanting something you don't like
being someone you don't know;
no time left for words,
left for words.
has all the poetry I've read
added up to?
A hobby of choice? Vocabulary?
A replicating meme?
Words of Donne fall silent
under my breath, when I feed my ill kempt pet,
an image of Plath mutes me
this inability to live unpoetically
to think in conventional, objective terms,
to make sensible, explainable decisions,
it makes me doubt when doubting is
when I cannot justify my running away
with a 100 year old poem based
and a couple of witty remarks.
But all the poetry I've read
magically does add up to something.
It's here to keep me warm
should lonely nights descend,
making it all make sense
in disconcerting times and
it's in my mind's ways,
it's in my mind's eye,
here at hand to connect the dots
to kindly forgive and give myself
to something and someone,
preparing me for life's
hard to believes, hard to endures,
here to accompany me to lonely lunches,
some birthdays, toothaches, carwashes
and finally the grave,
It moves me
with such ease
through the meaningless,
the absurd and the sad,
the hard to be kind, the about to go mad,
gracefully explaining myself to myself
and this all that there is to this all grown up girl
who has thought this world up that has once made up
Comments about All This Poetry I'Ve Read (Adds Up To Something) by Simina Pitur
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Simina Pitur's Other Poems
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe