Fuckin’ Poetry

by Amanda Giles

 

Fuckin’ Poetry

 

I’ve been wanting to write me some

I’ve seen those cool cats on the TV

and thought – why can’t that be me?

I can walk and chew gum

I can pat my head and rub my tum

I ain’t dumb, but usually

the words won’t come.

 

Fuckin’ Poetry

 

Sometimes I make the time

I sit with my pencil in hand and I…

stare blankly at the wall.

I feel rushed so I try to force it out

Try to get some movement,

but my thoughts are just constipated

 

My mind has a vision of how

the poetry will look and sound.

It will be big

It will be profound

It will be both inspiring and self-effacing

It will be comedic and pure

and sometimes…unsure

 

Fuckin’ Poetry

 

In my mind, I will deliver it like the sassy urbanite

who was born knowing more than you

and who has more attitude than Doctor Who.

I will get every intonation just right

so that when I am done -

you will see the light.

 

You see last year here I rocked a piece,

but the words were another’s I couldn’t keep.

I promised myself then,

I was going to write some words to throw down

a poem or two I could truly call my own

And through the past year

I did scribble and scratch,

but I wasn’t pulling no rabbit from my hat

 

Fuckin’ Poetry

 

Now the night before Spiritfire

I lay in my bed

running over my lists,

crossing things off in my head.

I felt sure I had drifted -

I know that I had.

Then unbidden the thoughts came racing through

not what to pack or things to do.

I tried to tell myself – this really won’t do

Don’t you know that it’s quarter of two?!

 

But the muse can be fickle

and my promise was still unmet

So I climbed out of bed -

grabbed my robe and a pad

and I scribbled this poem that you have now had

And I said to myself – That wasn’t half bad

 

But I can’t end this poem

without throwing you a bone

Something to gnaw on

and take home for your own

So here it is…

This message is true.

 

Fuckin’ Poetry

if I can write it, so can you!

 

© 2011 Amanda Giles