The Dream Of Life


“Poetry is a

sort of truancy,

a dream within

the dream of life,

a wild flower planted

among our wheat.”


~ Michael Oakeshott



Elfje: (Cinquain)



growing wild

beside the road

here there and everywhere





windy gusts blowing

clouds billowing in the sky

spring showers coming




in poetry, the words do not clang
rhythm and rhyme, melodic cadence
never expecting a real loud bang
words chosen to give language credence

the poet fights to make every word fit
knowing the poem has a mind of its own
push and shove becomes a battle of wit
words to grace the inevitable tombstone

the poet seeks words with intense feelings
the poem fights back with stubborn concern
things with no meaning and emotions concealing
finally, the resolve is what we have to learn

the poet writes to express himself, an autograph
the poem, however, always has the very last laugh


ME and the Boss








About merb010

Spring Hill, FL, United States Two nice old folks just hanging out, not hurting a bug or anything larger. The years have been kind to us and we now we are enjoying our golden years reading and writing. We are grateful for the God given talents that we now use to help others. View all posts by merb010

2 responses to “The Dream Of Life

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