I was just thinking (okay, now you can all joke about that. Done yet? Good, let's get back then, shall we?). About poetry (more sniggering? YOU there, stop it! I have not mastered the Art of Patience yet!).
When I write a poem, most of the time I think of that poem as a knife that is supposed to leave a wound, yet before you can quite pull it out, dear reader, I give it a good, sharp twist. Does that make any sense or are you suspecting that I am off my meds? Mmmh.
What I want to say is that poetry is a rather bloody art, poetry has sharp claws, long and hideous, yet of so subtle a nature that you only ever glimpse them when it's already too late. At least that's what I think poetry should be and as we all know, opinions tend to vary and multiply. sometimes I could swear they fornicate too. My, my. I really enjoy blogging way too much. My best friend would blame my being single for that. Poor me.
Still, don't you agree that pens make magnificent blades?