Tag Archives: poems about writing

Poem for poetry

Someone commented that,

“poetry is dead”

I wrote back,

“do you have any words left in your head?”

They then said,

“no, they’re all born in my mouth”

I wrote back,

“that’s what poetry’s about.”

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2013. All rights reserved

Ahhh; diction …

Every time I get one right,

a line that reads like music

or the perfect word surrounded

by almost perfect neighbors;

something happens to me,

and I promise myself

that there will be no more

restless nights chasing that high.


You’ll never see me

again crawling on my hands

and needs, picking through

the carpet or looking for a pen,

scratching on a blank page

or imagining a connection

between anything I scribble

and what I have been living.


And yet I know there is no cure.

I am a sick and unwell man,

and even obscurity cannot fix me

the way a few lines thrown together

can ease the pain for junkies.


Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2010. All rights reserved.

Intoxicate the muses

Tonight, when the angels

come for me, I will fool them

into staying longer than expected.

I will give them wine

and tell them that it’s water

steal their wings when

their halos are misdirected.

It’s the only way

to get a good thing

from any angels sent to save you.

Because they know

nothing but the light

they think they live in,

angels don’t understand

what it means to

need forgiveness.

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2010. All rights reserved.

The trouble with poetry

(answering Billy Collins)


I realized after reading your poem

how small my fish tank is

and how I forget to care for it

on account of having to deal

with bankers who are real sharks.


I wish I had rabbits right now.

And knew enough to care for them.

And knew how to sell them

like your poetry book

that I have in my hands.


I know of your urges

and I have broken in tonight

to share with you

a memory of summer asphalt

cooled by a fire hydrant

spitting through a tin cylinder

knocking over laughing

children who never saw

a lighthouse or dewy grass.


I stole that from no one.


But I know what you mean

about secretly wanting an end.


Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2010. All rights reserved.

Black box warning on the bottom of a pen pack

This product is intended for daily use

to write, draw, scribble, scrawl

and put ideas down on paper. It does

not protect against laziness, sloppiness,

and other socially transmitted diseases.


Benefits of daily use may include but

are not limited to improved creativity,

more original originality, a firmer grasp

of daily scheduling, increased productivity,

and mastery of fine motor skills.


Use of this product does not guarantee

these results and the manufacturer in no

way implies that these benefits are typical.



Certain heavy users have exhibited serious

side-effects including irritability, anger,

anxiousness, fatigue, depression, headache,

bloating, muscle aches, balding, nausea,

changes in sexual and gastrointestinal appetites,

carpal tunnel syndrome, thoughts of suicide,

ink stained fingers, cap chewing, blue

tongue, pocket spots and increased

cerebrovascular flow. These symptoms are

typical of engaging intensely in the pursuit

of knowledge and the improvement of one’s

mental faculties and should not be taken

as a sign of misusing the product. If all

symptoms appear simultaneously, stop

using the product immediately and wait

until one or more symptoms disappear

before continuing regular use.


You should not use this product if you

suspect that you are intolerant, lack

a sense of humor, have no imagination

or exhibit symptoms of other psycho/ social dysfunctions.


Please consult a teacher for more information; literally.


Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2009. All rights reserved.