No Manly Thing

It’s no manly thing,
this poetry lark:
banging in silly syllables
in the cluttered workshop of a darkened mind.

It’s not a womanly thing either,
coddling newborn words,
swaddling them in warm towelled poems,
homed in the page’s scrubbed whiteness;

and it’s not a childlike thing,
these letters,
haphazard bricks
with little chance of a hope of sense,
flung tantrummed on the nursery floor.

It’s just me
making shadows black enough
for the illusion of sunlight.


4 thoughts on “No Manly Thing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s