Thursday, June 25, 2020

i am

the word & phrase you write in every poem
the pathway, streets and city you live since you were born
the plate, cup, brew, spice, food you eat 
the hat, purse, coat, shirt, shoes that you wear
the wheel, hub, spokes, transmission that you ride
the book & tenets you read at night

the only key in your pocket
you carry wherever you go
not pricky, not heavy, not strange
just comfortable weight in your hands & eyes

i would have love to peek at other people's windows
& admire their paintings, chairs, photos, bookshelves
but alas 
i remain
your blind spot

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub- OpenLinkNight - Hosted by Bjorn Rudberg.  Please join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.   dVerese will be in summer hiatus and will come back on July 13, 2020.   Thanks for your visits and comments.


  1. I get a feeling of this being a shadow in my wake... something always there behind my back. Hope you will read your poem live.

  2. To forever be a blindspot must be to exist in a different dimension.

  3. Very nice poem Grace. There are quite a few blind spots in the life around us.

  4. "the wheel, hub, spokes, transmission that you ride
    the book & tenets you read at night,".. This is so evocative!💝

  5. Grace - The title blew me away as I have been pondering thoughts regarding "I Am". Those blind spots are hard to maneuver around.

  6. Think my comment disappeared. This strikes me as a poem to ponder over and wonder how enclosed we are being ourselves.

  7. Your poem elegantly expresses a barrier that many contend with. Bittersweet and beautifully done.

    Grace, I switched over to Chrome from firefox and captcha appears to be working now.

  8. Too many blind spots exist. Lovely poem!

  9. I really like this poetic form, it’s one I used when I was teaching, to the first line really rings true. I love the idea of being comfortable weight in someone else’s hands and eyes. I admit that I have peeked in other people's windows. I agree with previous comments about the many blind spots.

  10. Who really sees us? We are more than just the surface of things. Melancholy and true.

  11. We come in contact with so many things and leave our mark somewhere!

  12. i audibly gasped at the last stanza and immediately re-read the whole thing. Lovely, lovely perspective here.

  13. Not what I expected, that blind spot at the end revealed my blind spot, desire, separation, communion altogether. So Lovely Grace

  14. I really like this for thought.


  15. an accomplished poem, Grace, just the right amount of mystery, one to come back to...JIM

  16. Grace,
    I really like how your title connects with the rest of your poem and the ending being a blindspot. Intriguing.


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