Litkicks Message Board Archive

B Poet

Posted to Action Poetry

I should've taken my B,
then my leave.
Instead I chose denial
and doggedly cleaved to my
dream of being just a fourth
of each
Milton and Donne.
Metaphysically half the poet
I would've idealistically like to have been,
but realistically, still quite
a reach.

Lost in a past
that I can not have,
while presently
barely present.

My voice suppressed by insecurities,
discontent with my winter,
yet I spit out flurries,
while my mind contrives blizzards.

Crystalline figurines
falling upon heads,
brushed off shoulders,
as though dead skins.

I could take a B
possibly a C plus,
but I guess
I'll take my
and my leave.