"Beyond the Pale"
Oil on canvas,  24" x 30"
by Chip Ghigna


A Poet Isn’t Somebody

A poet isn’t somebody
who says the sky
is just another blue
holding down the ground
as though the ground
were on a hinge and could
flap up or maybe come off,
scalped by some Indian god.

A poet isn’t somebody
who goes hunting to kill
or the one who takes dogs
and guns and camouflaged hats.
He’s the one who takes off
his glove to touch the stream
the others cursed because it trickled
over their boot tops when they crossed it.

A poet isn’t somebody
who looks at clocks
before he sleeps
though he learns their
anxious call can eat
through walls, and dreams.

A poet isn’t somebody
who tells he’s a poet.
He’s somebody who asks
if he may hike your property
to follow where the moon
may rise tonight.


©Charles Ghigna

7 comments:

  1. omg the line, "he learns their anxious call can eat through walls and dreams" is amazing, soooo true when a poem springs to mind, it dangles like a worm on a hook, waiting to be plucked, spread out and given new life on pristine paper. thank you for this wonderful poem ;)

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  2. I like especially that final verse, that wraps it up substantially of who (a poet is) and why ( a poet is). Nice to think over!

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  3. I really like the line about the anxious call of the clock eating through walls... I can really relate to that.

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  4. Thank you for your kind comments.
    May all your clocks sing silently.
    May all your poems dance.

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  5. Oh, wonderful! This

    He’s the one who takes off
    his glove to touch the stream
    the others cursed because it trickled
    over their boot tops when they crossed it.

    and the ending are my favorite parts!

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  6. Thanks, Laura.
    Love your beautiful new book!

    "A leaf is a leaf.
    It bursts out each spring
    when sunny days linger
    and orioles sing."

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