Song of Myself
By Jane Hyphen
- 390 reads
I
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
But there’s a part of me, myself,
The part that I unscrewed,
When everything felt so tight,
Too constraining, when people said,
‘Tell us about yourself’, and I saw nothing,
But dark blurry shapes - incoming,
As they turned the screws on me,
And I knew myself, I couldn’t enter,
Their fiery machine or breathe inside its confines,
I looked down, identified my tightest screw,
And I unscrewed it myself, held it loosely,
Put it in my pocket and walked home,
Breathing in the trees and feeling the expanse,
Of something bigger, something else,
I realised I’d dropped the screw,
And tempted to retrace my steps,
I myself decided that I was better off without it,
That screw of mine is not loose, it’s missing,
Rusting in a gutter, likely regretting its greedy turns,
And I myself can move without check and with original energy.
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Comments
No matter what we think of
No matter what we think of ourselves it's often good to make the occasional adjustment.
With the words of your poem you've really hit the nail on the head, if you'll pardon the pun.
Turlough
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So sorry I missed this poem!
So sorry I missed this poem! I loved :
"Breathing in the trees and feeling the expanse,
Of something bigger, something else," in the middle. The whole new meaning of when someone is screwed. Like all your poems, the more i think about it, the more there seems to be. I really like, too, how you are not the repetitive sound of an engine, each part fitting into a rigid whole. It made me think of a horrible Japanese saying I heard recently about if a nail sticks out it is everyone else's duty to bash it back in. I am so glad you are not bashed in!
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