The Cliched Writers

Found in every coffee shop,

laptop open, frothy latte in hand,

trying to look impressive.

Go sit upon your park benches

listening for songbirds

and I shall lounge atop volcanos

awaiting eruptions –

the kind that

shook Pompeii,

because writers should get

buried in their art

beneath the rubble

and the

lava.

Entombment should be poetry;

funeral should be fairytale;

wear black for me

because that was the color

of my work.

The cliched writers

can keep their ways –

I’ll stick to ripping open mountains

and swallowing skies

and dethroning gods,

and when the exiles come calling for me,

tell them I’m at the peak of

Mount Vesuvius,

and I’ll burn

before I

come down

for their

wailing

cries.

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9 thoughts on “The Cliched Writers

  1. Yeow! I’m right there with you! Lead on…to Vesuvius!
    .
    .
    Although…*sigh* I once wrote about an event at a coffee shop, so it was beneficial to be in one at the time.
    ,
    ,
    But no more! From now on it’s volcanoes and icebergs for me!

    1. Meet you at the top! 🙂 I once wrote a poem on a park bench at a playground – shame on me!

      But I think we all agree that volcanoes and icebergs are the very best places to find inspiration, even if we explode or freeze to death every once in a while 😉 It’s all part of the experience!

  2. Wow…I literally read like five of your poems in a row and am blown away. You have such an effortlessness about your words. You are so very thoughtful and that comes out so genuinely in what you write. Very, very well done!

Thoughts? I love those.

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