More poems

Posted: October 27, 2020

Ernest Hemingway once said, “There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

Many people think writing is something certain people choose to do. Believe me, it is not a choice. At times it’s like your head fills with words and the only relief is to write them down…be it at an old typewriter or modern keyboard. There’s no judgment at this early stage. Good or bad the words just want out.

No surprise, then, that even with two books recently completed the poems keep coming. I guess that bleeding Hemingway mentioned never stops. Here’s a new one. If this book ever gets completed it will have no titles just numbers. This one is…


There’s only one thing

wrong with your children

he said

catching a flare

of defensiveness

in those eyes

he had learned to read

so well

so long ago

…they are not mine

Her eyes clouded over

like an English sky

in late summer

Filled now with

a softness close to sorrow

And visions

of lives not lived

©2020 Dave Tutin / openDmusic