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…
17.
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