Questions In The Mind Of A Poet While She Washes Her Floors

No, I did not write this. And the reason that I don’t post this in the media forum is that I thought that this was so thoughtworthy that others than the artists and authors should see it.
One of my classmates in my creative writing group brought this on the “Discover a poet you love” assignment, and the person who wrote this is named Elena Georgiou.

<u>Questions In The Mind Of A Poet While She Washes Her Floors</u>

Will obedience leave me unknown to myself, stranded?

Is it enough for me to know where I’m from?

If I do more truth-telling will I be happier with what I say?

If I had three days to live would I still be sensible?

Is the break between my feelings and my memory
the reason I’m unable to sustain rage?

Am I a peninsula slowly turning into an island?

If I grew up gazing at the ocean would I think
life came in waves?

If I were a nomad would I measure time
by the length of a footstep?

If I can see a cup drop to the floor and shatter
why can’t I see it gather itself back together?

If a surgeon cut out my mistakes
would the scar be under my heart?

How much time will I spend protecting myself
from what the people I love call love?

Would my desires destroy my politics?

Is taboo sex the ultimate aphrodisiac?

If I fall in love with the wrong person
How do I learn to un-in love myself?

Can I make my intuition into a divining rod?

Is music the closest I can get to God?

How many of these questions will remain
when I kneel to wash my floor again?

Wow… thought-provoking, to say the least. :hmm:

It’s very deep.

Boring. Besides, I’m happy with who I am, I don’t need some random poet to question my life. I feel really cynical right now.

The overall theme of the work seems to be questioning her sexuality. She seems to hint at something being amiss in her sexual/life (“Is taboo sex the ultimate aphrodisiac?” line 13, “How much time will I spend protecting myself from what the people I love call love?” lines 10-11), how she perhaps doesn’t quite agree with what she is feeling (“Would my desires destroy my politics?” line 12) and how she is being cut off from others (“Am I a peninsula slowly becoming an island?” line 7). Overall, I think the poem leaves much to be desired, in both actual content AND context.

This reminds me of Anne Bradstreet, who I personally think is boring beyond all belief. I don’t know why this stood out to you so much though.

Ah well. I think it got stuck in my mind because I tend to get weird thoughts like that when doing tedious work.