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Some Poems Lead Lives Of Their Own

By John I. Blair

Today I saw a poem I once wrote
Presented in an unexpected spot,
An e-zine with a funky name
And format borderline illegible.

I wasnít asked permission,
Did not care; the editor
Had clearly been out reaping
Unprepossessing poems such as mine,

Thinking, I am sure,
The authors would be blissed
Just to see their sweet birds fly
Yet one more time.

And in my case he was right;
Once I let a poem go
Iím not pissed
If it sells itself upon the street.

What matters
Is that someoneís read it,
Remembered it,
And passed it on.

If my poem leads a private life,
Unknown to me,
Thatís one small leap
Toward immortality.

©2011 John I. Blair


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