D
Doc Watson
Guest
I wrote this some months back and put it aside. Picking it back up I've decided it ain't that bad and I'm ready to edit it and put it on You Tube. But I still am not sure which title to go with. The original title I thought of was 'Walls Within Walls.' But I equally like 'Perfectly Imperfect.' The problem is, as you serious poets should know, is that I can't really look at my own work impartially to decide. Many poets can't. So, which title works best? Or can you come up with a better one?
For most of us
the construction began in early childhood,
an intuitive defense mechanism,
to cope with being deemed too short or too tall,
too bright or too dim, too cute or too plain, too
large or too small.
Tools of the trade,
employed by parents, siblings and playmates,
were both inherited and fabricated,
as needs arose, and mandated to install
protective foundations, yet unnamed, as our
walls within walls.
With only a
few strong souls brave enough to venture beyond
the barriers, the construction continued
for the rest of us as defined social cures
required to justify perceived shortcomings
in our structures.
Must we follow
those who conceived the earliest prototypes,
commissioned the plans, dictated the dogmas
that stifled the light? Or can’’t we embrace flaws
in the perfectly imperfect so we might
tear down the walls?
For most of us
the construction began in early childhood,
an intuitive defense mechanism,
to cope with being deemed too short or too tall,
too bright or too dim, too cute or too plain, too
large or too small.
Tools of the trade,
employed by parents, siblings and playmates,
were both inherited and fabricated,
as needs arose, and mandated to install
protective foundations, yet unnamed, as our
walls within walls.
With only a
few strong souls brave enough to venture beyond
the barriers, the construction continued
for the rest of us as defined social cures
required to justify perceived shortcomings
in our structures.
Must we follow
those who conceived the earliest prototypes,
commissioned the plans, dictated the dogmas
that stifled the light? Or can’’t we embrace flaws
in the perfectly imperfect so we might
tear down the walls?