Too easy

I don't normally write poems about writing, but this one wrote itself this morning.

Too easy

Once I wrote in language

dense as earth, full of words

gleaned from years of learning, reading,

and fancy turns hand-picked

from the poet’s holdall of tricks –

allit-, asson-, half-rhyme, and bucket-loads

of metaphor.

One critic said I was ‘showing off’

but I wasn’t. I took delight

in the possibilities of words, sounds,

ideas, special effects.

Still, the injustice stung.

I’ve pared down, am leaner,

but maybe I’ve gone too far;

too many simple gifts, too many

babies slipped through the shower’s

hair filter, too many straight lines.

What do you think? You were there.

What do you think?

Colin Will

01/01/2014