Fetal Ignorance
is growing
within me and
with me
showing
its big belly
of doubt.
Learning
to live, to be,
to venture further
backward
to kindergarten
with each
new thought.
Meeting Barthelme’s
Miss Mandible
striving for
all A’s
and yet somehow
missing
the lesson.
Text
disintegrates with time
and logic’s
stomach acid
to fall gently
to the bottom of
my mind
I am
a cradle made of web
with holes too large
and clumsy, woven
by toddler fingers
yesterday
in arts and crafts.
Knowledge
born and
fed and bathed
but wanting, seeking
innocence,
to crawl back
inside the womb.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
Hi Susan,
I’m confused by the heading”Storied: And Bad Poetry”. I enjoyed the poem. It was chock full of visual metaphors that hung together nicely, to create a uniformed tapestry of thought.
Hi Lauren! I don’t usually write poetry, so I had to place it under the Stories category where I put my writing stuff. “Bad” because while I’m not a poet, my thoughts came in that form this morning, and I didn’t follow any rules whatsoever–just wrote it out and posted. Thanks for your kind words, though. The poem was obviously about feeling rather stupid lately, despite efforts to gain insight, and getting thoroughly frustrated by it all! I’m feeling much better now.
I’ve recently found that poetry can do that – make you feel better. I wrote poetry as a young adult and off-n-on as an adult but mostly because I take such delight in words sometimes that I want to play with them. But now I know the true healing nature of poetry.
That’s a great poem. If you have the time you might consider writing more.
Lauren