Poet's Plea

Poet’s Plea (Wednesday 4th March, 2009, 1.26pm)

Hold from me the truth,
for I don’t want to know;

wrap your words in softness
and sweet appreciation;

let me suckle, child-like
at the nipple of your praise.

Hide me from the critics,
for my skin is not thick

and their knives are sharp;
they slice and curve and arch

across my proffered art;
I painted my heart in words

and posted it to you;
caress it and cherish it;

don’t drop my soul on the
floor of your disgust;

tread carefully on my
tapestries of meaning.

Hush, don’t say a word
that would despoil my song;

I know it could be better,
I know I might spell wrong;

who are you to judge me?
who do you think you are?

Hand me obsequious
lines of empty slush;

hush, don’t point out errors:
I don’t want them discussed;

tread softly: don’t be harsh
if you don’t welcome wrath.

Hopeful, I await responses:
comments (but only positives):

I won’t be judged. Please
listen to my poet’s pleas

so that I may be pleased;
I pour irony over sludge.

Jennifer Pickup