Invite the Reader to Your World

Guy de Maupassant wrote, “The public as a whole is composed
of various groups, whose cry to us writers is:

Comfort me.
Amuse me.
Touch me.
Make me dream,
Make me laugh,
Make me shudder,
Make me weep,
Make me think.

And only a few chosen spirits say to the artist:
“Give me something fine in any form which may suit you best,

according to your temperament.”

This brings up an amusing, thought-provoking and realistic concern. As poets do we write for ourselves and hope for the reader’s connection? Or do we weave an experience filled with sensory imagery, rhythm and detail for a few readers who bring a similar understanding to the page?

Often when I wish to satisfy the reciprocity between poet and reader, I attempt to show the human experience in a fresh or comical way. If I tickle my own funny bone, I feel a sense of accomplishment.

The Heart of the Matter

Why does the heart always get credit
when pleasure or pain take the breath away?
“We do the work, ”say the lungs.
“Breathe. Breathe. We fix it.”

The heart claims it doesn’t break,
“I don’t even wrinkle.”
Fingers create fists, “We feel, really feel.”
"Well, we run from distress,” the feet say.

Liver and kidneys shout that they
deal with all bodily evils first.
The eyes widen to say,
“Tears wash away the chaos.”

“Hey, don’t forget us adenoids and tonsils,
- if you still have them."
“Anyone home?" asks the spleen.
"Appendix can’t pronounce vestigial.”

The navel chuckles, “Don’t ask the colon's opinion.”

Throughout this discourse,

the brain has remained complacent.
“Have fun without me,”

it sings as it flits out an ear.