deepundergroundpoetry.com
Writing Through the Nose
Begone you ugly whores of rhyme
do not inject your poisons here
where sacred thoughts
and freedoms run
before a holier wind
than you might ever mind
From this day on
no faithless word
shall grace these lips
nor through these fingers flow
to pander to your passion
'till meaning's overthrown
Imaginings run wild
in truth your tricks are legion
the dapple of soft shadow
that lurks upon each line
I curse such addled syntax
these words aren't yours--
they're mine
So leave me to compose
and sip of purer wine
this battle you have won
but writing through the nose
I shall sneeze my poem next time
do not inject your poisons here
where sacred thoughts
and freedoms run
before a holier wind
than you might ever mind
From this day on
no faithless word
shall grace these lips
nor through these fingers flow
to pander to your passion
'till meaning's overthrown
Imaginings run wild
in truth your tricks are legion
the dapple of soft shadow
that lurks upon each line
I curse such addled syntax
these words aren't yours--
they're mine
So leave me to compose
and sip of purer wine
this battle you have won
but writing through the nose
I shall sneeze my poem next time
Published 21st Mar 2016
| Edited 2nd Feb 2023
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21st Mar 2016 12:30pm
Anonymous
1st Nov 2016 8:01pm
Starting your poem with 'begone you ugly whores of rhyme' to end your poem with that rhyming last stanza is a beautiful dig at whatever ticked you off enough to write it.
The second stanza is particularly passive-aggressive (I love that) and really defines writing for me - write if you must, but write it like you mean it. Without meaning. Without 100% sense. It reminded me of the Hemingway quote: "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."
There's a glorious (and might I say eloquent) f*ck you in this. Very much enjoyed pulling it apart.
Thank you for the read.
The second stanza is particularly passive-aggressive (I love that) and really defines writing for me - write if you must, but write it like you mean it. Without meaning. Without 100% sense. It reminded me of the Hemingway quote: "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."
There's a glorious (and might I say eloquent) f*ck you in this. Very much enjoyed pulling it apart.
Thank you for the read.
