Sputterpub's Blog

She always sensed how much she didn’t know.
Awareness of her ignorance increased
with every year and every book. But “blow-
hard” she was called – her talking seldom ceased.
Imagining how smart a brain could be
was not outside her reach. She’d ever sense
a height of bright beyond her boundary,
but some said she self-loved intelligence.

“You think you’re always right,” she heard a lot.
“Conceited,” others called, and “pompous ass.”
She learned the words. She argued they should not
be used, but never changed her ways in class.
And even now she’s old, she wonders some,
how she might speak without affecting dumb.

Perhaps I need to be considered more,
but I felt pissy yesterday, and mad.
I nearly yelled at strangers in the store.
I met no passing eyes. I mingled sad
with fierce contempt, disdain a launching pad
that fired judgment into plaintive word.
I felt alone. I threw off feeling bad.
I voiced complaint and maybe someone heard.

(Huitain)