One Art by Nicholas DiClementi

I’m burning every poem
I’ve ever written.

Having collected all of my words
And stacked them in a neat pile,
I toss them,
No, hurl them
Into the metal wastebin
I keep under my desk
(How does it all fit?
I was sure
there was more than that!)
I strike the match
Against the side of the matchbox,
Watching the flame
Come to life
And dance
In front of my eyes.
I hold it there for a moment,
And then another,
And another.
My thoughts
Lead me astray.

I’m thirteen years old
And my girlfriend
Playfully challenges me
To write her a sonnet.

I’m sixteen years old
And I try to capture
The beauty
Of a sunset over a lake.

I’m eighteen years old
And I’m longing to say something,
Say anything,
When my grandfather passes.

I’m twenty-six years old
And a poem practically writes itself
As I watch you undress
At the foot of my bed.

The match begins
To burn my fingers.
I quickly blow it out.

Perhaps tomorrow
I’ll burn every poem I’ve ever written.


Filed under Featured Content, Guest Author, Poetry, Writing

7 responses to “One Art by Nicholas DiClementi

  1. Sameera

    Perhaps it’s weird that I found this…but I am always curious (and was bored). In any case, I’m glad I did find it. I’ve read it numerous times now and I think it’s beautiful. I just had to share, even at the risk of seeming creepy.


  2. debzywebzy

    PS: I realise you have more than 200 followers but I broke the rules for you…


  3. debzywebzy

    This poem is fantastic! I totally identify with it. =)
    By the way, I’ve nominated you for the Liebster Award because I think your blog is awesome!
    It’s to help you get more traffic on your blog. Congrats!


  4. Pingback: The Liebster Award! | Parallel Universe

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