I feel guilty when I write about Trump, because I’m contributing nothing but despair. And I feel guilty when I don’t write about him, because how life-threatening he is to America. So today I’ll just submit a little poemette, entitled
WILL I STILL BE ME?
I want to know
most terribly so.
While rooming in the womb,
on the stage behind the curtains,
overhearing intimations
of change. Whose screams?
I arrive, a piece of ignited clay
presenting with my backside,
bringing pain on opening day.
Invisible lines associating ideas, creating images.
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Lovely poem Nan! Deceptively simple but a strong message!
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Happy Holidays if the season gobbles me up (tho alone in Ohio), in contact with friends like you.
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Season’s Greetings to you Nan. I hope to stay online for the duration.
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Presidents come and go in our democracy…what citizens do is important too. Perhaps we expect too much of our leaders and hang too much of our hope (or despair) on them.
Anyway, I like your poem-ette and the potential each human life possesses!
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Many thanks, Lynn. Peace.
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Nice poem
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