Putting Pen to Paper

There is a heavy weight, 

In putting pen to paper.

Is it just for one or others?

Will they read this?

The right ones?

Will they make proud proclamations?

“It’s not for me.

I don’t rate her.”

There is dissection and discussion, 

There is is disgust, distaste at least, 

And if I put this in the world, 

It will be torn apart to pieces.

Will it belong to glowing screens?

With bitter playground recriminations, 

For both those who know the best, 

And those who rise above their stations.

There is a keeper at the gate, 

Who knows the right way to write it.

There is a beating heart on stage, 

Spinning syllables and fighting.

Both the former and the latter, 

Miss the point of being creators, 

But there is such a heavy weight, 

In this putting pen to paper.

My intention today was to write something funny about what's going on in the world of poetry at the moment. I accidentally went a bit introspective instead. Oops!