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There are so many poems
and so few readers,
so many songs
and so few singers,
so many dances
and so few dancers,
so many dreams
and so few dreamers,
so much love
and so few lovers.
Dinner from the freezer
on the assembled table,
knife, fork, napkin—
IKEA instructions,
an unused screw;
phone,
waiting for notification.
2 comments:
This one doesn't do it for me, on a kishka level. It opens magnificently -- "There are so many poems/ and so few readers". That rings true -- that there is so much poetry in the world and not enough people to appreciate it. But the rest of that verse seems like stretching to me. Someone who would appreciate a song would be a listener, not a singer. Same for the dancers, the dreamers and the lovers. So much love, and no one feels loved. That makes more sense to me. And then the rest of the poem is too sparse. It needs more detail, more context. Sorry, this one feels like it needs more work.
Yeah. One of those half-baked poems from an improvised recipe that fell apart out of the oven. Just lays there on the table, not much flavour, nothing to look to look at.
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