Poems ✍️

I’ve just written to a friend and said

‘I’ve just written a poem
which I would have given my life
to have written.’…

and then sat and looked at
what I’d written –
wondering whether
that was what I really meant..

(and, faintly, contemplating
whether a thunderbolt
straight from Justice central
might strike me there and then…)

or whether I’d retreated into
some private world of self-delusion..

or whether I had reached the height
of mortal bliss.. as perhaps some ‘real’ poet might…
when on the scales of life-for-life
or perhaps, eternity,
I was offering humbly, in exchange
for all I have received, all
that my soul could offer…

discarding all the burdens of the past,
disregarding any thoughts of future life,
living in the present, like a child does,
as, glorious, the present presently moves on
from freedom into freedom… tell me,

do you feel the same way too?