Euphonism;
Fuck Comfort
I don’t want to write another poem
I don’t want to think in metaphors
I don’t want to dig out words of contentment
I ain’t looking to laureate
I ain’t expecting to longlist
I ain’t no damn poet
I teach science, secondary
I only rhyme the -ologies
Yet, I vowed to submit verse
In a contest about comfort
Fuck comfort
There is no comfort in poetry
There is no comfort in words
There is no comfort post-pandemic.
I’ll repeat [Because that’s all poems do]
There is no comfort post-pandemic
There was once upon a time comfort
It still reverberates in memory
Echoes of decorated cinderbrick
Hands raised, pages spread open
Passion alighted
Comfort. What comfort?
What once was comfort now flays layers
of recollections and exposes raw, pulsating pain.
But I’ve been challenged to make it feel
like a hug. Write poems about sandy toes, first books...
And bread.
I’m a teacher
There is no comfort
[And I know not the hell of what I’m doing].
.
32
About the Creator
No Real Balance
Reluctant Writer. Teacher.
Hawking vocal contests for love letters.
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