December 7, 2019.

am i a chimney? a cigarette? 




am i still a poet

Am I still a poet when I do not write

Am I still a poet when I taste ash on my tongue

when I feel the fire in the pit of my stomach

but only pay attention to the smoke coming out of my ears

 

I waste away in the prison that is my mind in months that seem to be years

No, I set myself aside in an ashtray or I start to lose my balance in a weary palm

I contain myself or I burn those that I love

but I can't say the box I was in didn't warn them in the first place; I'll get you in some way, nicotine is a hell of a drug

 

Am I still a poet when my skin feels like a cold window in a car

when my eyes reflect the rain that travels down them

when my touch feels more like a grasp

when I try to repair broken thoughts, ripped photographs, and obituaries with what I already lack

 

If I'm not, then what do I become when I don't have the energy

when I don't have the motivation

when I don't have the words inside me

Do I become the shadow of another poet who inspires creation

from the darker days of my life; using their art as my eulogy





Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 428 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2019-12-08 at 05:52

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Purple Puddles
Interesting thought progression. I think we've all wondered this at some point
2020-01-04


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry website!
2019-12-31


ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Of course you are a poet. Once a poet always a poet.
Ken D
2019-12-08


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
i like this, especially the way you used your last two lines.
2019-12-08