Maroon, hard-ass plastic
chairs arranged, in haphazard
semi-circle around The Podium,
discount chardonnay and store-bought
sweets “breathe” on a folding table.
I am not a poet
I do not speak in soliloquy,
rhyme, metaphor, or simile.
I do not speak in the static, soft,
sing-song voice that lures
the waking mind elsewhere. I speak
straight from the heart, that which
makes me angry elated heartbroken.
I am not a poet
I don’t paint pictures with words,
my life is simple, challenging,
normal, chaotic. I am me, yet
in words, there is truth
beauty love life
poetry is me.
This was written by my wife, Annette, who is a badass for a variety of reasons. We were at a post-Thanksgiving party / poetry reading the other night and she actually got up and read this in front of the group. Her first reading in front of a group of people. She was great and that night might’ve been the highlight of 2015.