• D. Ellsworth

Being a Poet

There is something about being a poet that is self-defining. When I consider an idea or a random thought invades my consciousness it often seems best expressed in poetry. Perhaps that is why, although I have tried prose it doesn't seem to work well for me. There is something about trying to beak a thing down to its core and display it in crisp, succinct, moving ways.

An example is the poem that follows. I read a post on facebook that started me thinking about how personality and relationships evolve. The cycle of inventing and discovering the self. This is what I came up with.


Love is a scalpel,

It takes grafts from the id

to increase the definition of the ego.

Who am I?

Mate, Lover of culture, best friend . . .

graft the identity on my soul.

Then sloughing

if the graft didn't take -- a bleeding wound,

now build the scar.

Each moment redefine,

breaking from my chrysalis

I must slowly spread wings and dry.

My soul takes flight

and I graft new items to heal the scar

repeat ad infinitum.


Recent Posts

See All

Yet Again: George Floyd

I find that I am looking at the belly of the beast. Once again seemingly unfettered bigotry has struck, as a uniformed peace officer. Nine long minutes of pleading met with apparent indifference. The

Thoughts On The Pandemic.

Usually I don't touch on things quite so current or am so direct on them. As a change of pace I decided to do so. Feel free to report your thoughts on this. Pandemic Solidarity in solitude, quarantine

Lockdown Musings

As the social distancing and lockdown continue I get to be more and more introspective. Thus these two poems written during the isolation tend to center a bit more on me. Please forgive my internal mu


  • Facebook Classic
  • Twitter Classic
  • c-youtube

© 2023 by Samanta Jonse. Proudly created with