They claim to be my words, but I’ve no memory;
They seem too deep, too wise, beyond me,
Yet there they are, on the page,
With a typo or two for extra authenticity,
As if intentional to address this very moment,
As if to say, ‘who else but you?’
It is hard to argue.
It’s not that the words don’t resonate,
They absolutely ring true;
And I’m not here to brag,
Nor be overly humble,
I’m just a bit confused,
How my own words seem to be so new.
Be well,
Monty
Monty’s Blahg 
sometimes we are simply channels. And that’s a lovely feeling.
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I have actually experienced this – where my words sound almost foreign and I’m surprised they came from me.
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Monty I have been there! I read some poetry that I’d written in HS and was amazed. I know it was me but it was hard to believe that I was so eloquent! This poem is very well done – so much so that in 10 years you’ll amaze yourself!!
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For some reason I missed this comment! Sorry. It’s quite an “out-of-body” or at least “out-of-mind” experience. Haha.
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It is! I just wonder if I was book smarter then or do I have a greater emotional intelligence now??!
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