A Poet’s reflection in the mirror,
is not like the other one
The mirror speaks of accuracy, the water
of beauty, glass of faults
Despite this, the image of the Poet is distrustful
in the physical state.
Never hold a smile, a tear or hand of one. They like to steal what is not theirs,
pin it down to paper
Like butterflies on walls, the crazy
kleptomaniacs. You miss nothing with a Poet,
you simply collect.
hands of remorse, lungs wracked with guilt,
paper stained by delusions
The Poet craves to smell and touch what they
cannot have.
It is a life they emptied out into ink.
Put your fingers to their wrist, there is no life there,
But strangely enough there beats their creations on the table.
It reminds you of Frankenstein, and while your Poet builds him,
Pieces start to tumble from their body.
First a leg, then an arm, the Poet constructs a body out of paper.
Destroys it, and builds another one again and again.
Until the words across their skin are fading, and their face wrinkles.
The wastepaper basket becomes a home for the fallen.
Please give a detailed explanation about the meaning and main idea of this poem.:
Ultimately, this piece is a reflection upon the fact that poets are their creations. There are pieces of us (and sometimes other people) in whatever we create. Writers and Poets are infatuated in hiding pieces of themselves between words. This piece also speaks of failure. When we as poets and writers, don't like a piece of ours we tend to crumble and destroy what was written. This piece deals with the fact that the purpose of a poem is a personal one, a poem does not have to be beautiful to be considered one.
Please explain your writing and thought process regarding this poem.:
I had been thinking recently about writing something reflecting deeply on the nature of poets and myself, why do we write? What do we write with? This poem is exactly that, a guide delving into the nature of a poet.
Why did you choose to write this poem?: I chose to write this poem because it was a healthy outlet for me and reminder that not everything that I write has to be beautiful, sometimes there are failures, but they are a part of being a writer. This poem is there to help me or anyone else remember that.
Do you have any tips or anything to share with the youth writers who may be reading this?: Do not only stick to one interpretation. If you find more than one then take it, a poem is not just something that has meaning to the author, but also to the reader. Poetry is a shared jewel
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