Anonymous

My identity is
meant to be an
open book,
there for you to
take a look and
judge me
(if you will)
because I’m not supposed to mind
if you don’t find
this
attractive.
But I hide behind
my nameless blog
and, shameless, slog
to get my ideas
and hopes
and fears
to cooperate
and operate
as one cohesive chunk of writing
that might be exciting
to a reader.
For shame, I attach no name
to my imperfectly honest soliloquies,
though each one of them
frees me
momentarily
from my fear and reality.
What if some of my thoughts
are not right
enough
to be
the kind of stuff
I want others to see
of me?
I, as Miller’s Loman,
am desperate to be

Well Liked

and, fine,
if you’re unreasonable,
it’s feasible
we won’t get on
but this pen is
not yet ready
to speak direct
to those I respect
for fear that they will
lose their respect
for me when they see

what I am

who I am

who I truly am

when I am me on paper.

5 thoughts on “Anonymous

  1. Al Lane says:

    Interesting… The way I see it, we are poets, not politicians, or celebrities. We share only what we want to share. Our words bled onto a page will find a home or a void, but they are our words, as limited and as all-encompassing as they are.

    I don’t read your poems for clues about who you are, so much as to see the world through an artist’s eyes…and it is a bewitching view x

    Liked by 3 people

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