I wanna be a poet, a word slinger extraordinaire. Instead I’m a mimic, pacing
Off the steps, gimping up the line behind the real deal. Authenticity has meaning in rhyme’s
World. Weighty phrases loaded with innuendo and innocent declarations of true love.
Give me shelter, hoist me high, let me trade these paltry phrases for a silver plated platter.
A rose by any other name would still wilt and die, and therein lies the inherent problem: Reality.
I fell into your poem sideways,
not top to bottom as you likely wrote
it about love, and loss, and maybe
the taste of food.
A word stood out, midway through
your second stanza, so my brain followed
my eyes and without thinking
i read horizontally backwards.
Oddly enough, it made perfect sense and
I wondered, did you intend for me to
explore your words this way;
did you create a new form?
Only on my second pass did I find your
opening line and its nuances. Beautiful
rightside up and inside out.
A masterpiece.
Praying for Eyebrowz 