A poem that I called ‘Poem’

Even before the poem was born

it had a provisional name –

whether it was a boy or a girl poem,

simple or gifted, wild or tame.

It was to be called ‘Poem’ –

nothing but the best for my newest birthing.

.

Anyway, Poem was born,

from my soul was torn,

arriving, screaming silently,

into the void.

.

Will Poem grow to be a leader of tribes,

a favourite of scribes,

or just a series of words

vaguely affirming the sanctity of birds.

.

We wait and see;

what will be…

will…

be.

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