Member Poem

Call me stupid until it comes to writing–
When it comes to poetry.
When it comes to expression through a pen or pencil,
Or even a keyboard or typewriter.

There indeed are times when I would call myself stupid;
Stupidly in love with the romantic sides of this world.
Stupidly in love with the temporary fantasies we’re granted with,
Assuming that’s the life we get to live forever,
So we write about it to express our gratitude towards those experiences,
Until it’s ripped apart and we’re left in the harsh realities we once refused to face.

Call me stupid when I don’t have an answer to twelve times nine,
But I can assure you my word selections can stab deeper than a sharp dagger ever could.
Call me stupid for falling in love with writing,
But the stupidity of this part of life has the ability to guide souls back to soulless bodies.
It has allowed aching hearts to kill the pain without damaging those responsible.
Call me stupid but I don’t think I could ever fall as deeply in love with someone,
More than I have with writing.
Call me stupid because I don’t know the concept of business or politics,
But I’ve discovered intelligence within the simple words I’ve put together,
To create something meaningful–
Something more.

I’m a stupid woman but once my heart is broken–
Once I feel something,
Once a pen or pencil is in my possession,
The stains of ink will make you think,
“These are some pretty wise words coming from a stupid woman.”