Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

let me be me

30 March 2014

 

 

I lack that brash audacity,

to write like Bukowski,

the dribbled depth of Sexton’s truth,

or the voice of Langston Hughes.

 

The ethics of Plath’s perfections,

or Whitman’s grandest lines,

the beauty of Neruda’s words,

or Dickinson’s slant rhymes.

 

As much as I admire them all,

they simply are not me,

I must remind myself of this,

and just let me be me.

 

 

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30 March, 2014 - Posted by | Poetry |

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