April 7, 2008

Poem 2 for April 6, 2008 – Note To Self

Note To Self

Your woeful childhood doesn’t matter;
neither do today’s mopes and pangs.
As Grandpa would say, the chickens still
have to be fed. Cracked hands,
quarrels, exhaustion, troubled dreams:
without these, how did you think
to build Jerusalem?

This one started out as an ars poetica. My poems often get away from me.


1 Comment »

  1. ooo wow, i didnt even see that ending coming!
    I really enjoyed that poem
    its fun yet deep at the same time
    thanks for sharing it

    Comment by candyadderley — April 7, 2008 @ 6:19 am | Reply

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