Undone

We have finished the final edits on this next book of poetry. Looking at one poem at a time is difficult enough since each one is a scene stealing, egotistical swine. Dealing with 131 of them is wild.

Below is my next book of poetry called, “A Thing to Treasure”. The watercolor on the cover is by Anne Morris.

Wrote the poem below yesterday, Friday afternoon, by the river Sorgue in Provence, France where the poetry flies fast and furious.

                                    Undone

              A poem, by rights, is a messy thing.
                     It is not a scalpel, although
                            it can feel like one.
                          A collection of them
                          is a bushel of chaos
                and should be opened carefully
                      lest they catch the wind
                           and fly out of sight.
                            I like to keep them
                             in a stout satchel
                   with a smartly closing mouth
                     and no-nonsense handles.
                         Bring them out singly
                    to admire their unique hue,
                   perhaps fix a feather or two.
                           This is the only way 
                             to deal with them,
                      when they are most likely
                              to slip into a riot,
                  a frenzy that pack animals do.
                Don’t allow them to congregate.
                         Don't let competence
                       lure you into confidence
                because if another is brought out,
                        comparisons get made
                  which then gather and multiply
                        by orders of magnitude.
                 Now a mad flurry surrounds you,
                           unleashed, delirious
                           and you are undone.