Category Archives: Poetry

My Poetry Was Born

“I grew up in this town,
my poetry was born
between the hill
and the river,
it took its voice from the rain,
and like the timber,
it steeped itself in the forests.”

Pablo Neruda


Elfje: Cinquain
rise up
expand in size
turn into something big

Lune: 5,3,5
memories abound
my home town
growing up was fun
was it the truth, was he being honest
practicing what he was teaching, the Sorbonist
so many thieves running a scam
before the internet it was the flimflam

so easy to dupe the little old ladies
you are the winner of two Mercedes
the rich get richer by keeping their money
it takes a tax break for them to spend, Honey

without a mate it is someone to talk to
it’s four million dollars plus just for you
the garden gnome said that money grows on a tree
believe your mother there is no such thing as free

they say without playing you will never win the game
but they make their money by selling your name
if they would only use their wiles to do good
the motivation for greed is so misunderstood

use your common sense, be careful
no one wants to see you tearful
ME and the Boss

A Vague Question

“If we ask a vague question,
such as, ‘What is poetry?’
we expect a vague answer,
such as,
‘Poetry is the music of words,’
‘Poetry is the linguistic correction
of disorder.”

~ A. R. Ammons

Elfje: . . . . Cinquain
call for
tell me how
give it to me
Senryu: 5 x 7 x 5
peaceful and serene
a mind that has no tension
a soul that knows love
slowly the words crept on to the page
waiting for some ideas to come of age
doing their best not to disturb the silence
trying their darndest not to be a sentence

the search for a subject was real intense
will it be past, future or present tense
will the principal be a he, a she or the it
will it be a major discourse or just a little tidbit

there was a sit down strike, the words revolted
complaining about the time which was wasted
too many choices, to much like work
a short trip for the mind to go berserk

eventually a Higher Power stepped in
a compromise, poem and poet, a win win
resting on their laurels they agreed on tomorrow
and from the masters they would be able to borrow

the day is over and in truth nobody won
time to go outside and have some fun

ME and the Boss
http://ME and the Boss Recovery
http://ME and the Boss

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