Eating Poems as a Life Choice


I’ve loved many women
In my time, but not like this
Not like the love of words
The divinity in language

The riches in the poverty of poetry
Ink runs like liberty
From the fruit-craving mouth
Of this appetite, of poems

Like a librarian without a mate
I vowed long ago to marry literature
Here I am, alone and happy
I’ve loved many poets

Long dead and not famous
There is no bliss like art
There is no happiness like mine
I’ve eaten poetry for decades

In my attic, as a recluse
I am a new man because of her
She withstood my moods
And understood my aims

She did not chide me for my
Uneconomical strategy of living
Ink runs like milk from my face
I am a baby mad with wonder

In the open arms of books!
Who’s to say that this was not
My chosen aspect of hope
Who’s to say one’s greatest love

Must be a person, surely not mine
I romp with joy in the bookish dark
A happy nerd, a loving friend and
A devoted servant to literature
May all rejoice who know this joy!

21 thoughts on “Eating Poems as a Life Choice

    • All that we can hope for is to be part of the web of life’s genius. Poetry is dangerous and leads to a lot of suicides, though it can also save your life 😛

    • Some women seem to think writing is an unrealistic pursuit David, it’s really quite demeaning. I hope you don’t fancy a woman like that, it’s quite daunting I am afraid…

  1. Just found this delectable morsel!
    So we both eat poetry it seems! Ha ha! Such a perfect meal for breakfast, lunch, or supper. And I have an insatiable appetite. (I prefer a meal of words. : )
    Love your poem. Has so many of the same sentiments I express in my writing all wrapped up beautifully in one perfect package, bow and all.
    Look forward to reading more of you work.
    Have a great day.

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