Why Am I A Poet

a lock that could be opened by a pen

Is it just because of my vocabulary and language skills?
If so, all poets should have earlier been teachers at schools.

Is it because, the world I see is different from others, that I write poetry?
But then, every madman on the streets would be the poets of the century.

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Day Nine: Last Summer…

Today’s Prompt: A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands.

Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view


The Man

She insisted that we take a walk in the park to calm my nerves. As if my nerves could turn calm after what we did last summer. I think that it’s her nerves, she wants to calm more, in this walk, than she wants to calm me. I still can remember the lady’s cry of pain when our car rammed into her. Her vivid grey eyes that grew vacant and closed at the hospital. The pain in the tears of her son who had come all the way from half-way around the globe. He hadn’t blamed or accused us – but the innocent faces of her grandkids as they clung onto her boy, their father, was accusation enough for me.

Talk of the devil.

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