Analyze This

What was my creator thinking,
on that particular day,
As she sat concentrating
on what she should say.

What were the thoughts
that flashed through her mind,
as she delved through the depths,
What would she find?

And when she found what she needed,
What would you think,
sitting and searching,
too afraid to blink
Incase you missed something
important to her,
Hidden meaning, innuendo,
or a misused new word.

You see, they try to uncover
my secrets of old,
poke, search, discover,
as if I’m guarding some gold.
They inspect every corner,
search every inch,
Invasion of privacy,
cause me to cringe.

They rip me to pieces
until I’m stripped bare,
Left naked and empty
are they not aware?

I have nothing to hide,
there’s nothing to find,
on thoughts, use of language,
or metaphors combined.
I’m a simple poem,
constructed of words,
written on paper
in a sudden outburst.

An outburst of genius,
on a fine Summer’s day,
when the creator decided
to write about pain,
Or happiness, confusion,
Love or just life,
Or perhaps on a poem;
Blunt as a knife.

Am I intended to hurt?
Compliment?
Make aware?
Awaken understanding?
Destroy,
make you care?

The truth is, they sit for hours,
trying to analyze me,
But what is right in front of them
is too hard to see.

I have no hidden agenda.
I’m just a bunch of words,
Strung real neatly together,
To form a perfect verse.

So analyze THIS –
And maybe you’ll see,
the true meaning of this poem –
This reflection of me.

Analyze This

Mikyle

London, South Africa

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 10

Artist's Description

I wrote this poem while I was still at school studying poetry, and experienced a sudden deep sense of being too assuming, over-reflective, and analytical. I felt as though I was demanding of the poet’s ideas and feelings, and invasive of their work and thought. We don’t really know exactly what Shakespeare was feeling or trying to express when he wrote “let me not to the marriage of true minds”. (And the same goes for all poet’s everywhere.) We have a good idea – but its just that; an idea.
Poetry is an idea, a personal expression of feeling, inspiration, thought. Sometimes it would be best to just stand back, opinions reserved, and respect and appreciate poetry for what it is: A reflection of the poet themselves.

Artwork Comments

  • Erika .
  • Mikyle
  • cathrinedp
  • Mikyle
  • Mikyle
  • Daniel44
  • Mikyle
  • david pearson
  • Mikyle
  • lukemiller
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