Can Or Can’t

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“Secretly, deep down,

everybody on Earth

believes they can

write poetry,

apart from the members

of the Poets’ Guild,

who know they can’t.”

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― K.J. Parker

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Elfje:

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join

the guild

become a member

do what you can

artisan

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Haiku:

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the lakes calm surface

boats gently drifting along

summer welcomes peace

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Poem:

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just another day
attempting some frenetic foreplay
happenings in the life of the ordinary
pretending to be the good fairy
trying to justify their existence
never ever going the entire distance

their immutable style is passe
off to church every Sunday
one never expects the corollary
high school sweethearts they did marry
always following the path of least resistance
years of  mostly compatible coexistence

only their preacher knows how to pray
a few sad hearts when they passed away
to good morals they were never contrary
the quality of life is usually arbitrary
happy  to live a life of adequate subsistence
those remembered gave the most assistance

to the piper we all must pay
never ever overextend your stay
from the straight and narrow we must not vary
the easiest target hit is the one that is stationary
to be extraordinary exercise some gnarly persistence
while pretending to be the poet laureate in residence

ME and the Boss

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https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

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Bloodied

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“Poetry is

an abstraction

bloodied.”

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~ Wallace Stevens

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More from Reading, PA’s own.

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Elfje: (also known as a Cinquain)

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right

no left

a purposeful distraction

only the artist knows

abstraction

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Haiku:

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a high temperature

seasons begin to collide

freezing tomorrow

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Poem:

not a corpuscle to be seen
her face turned ashen and then she swooned
detectives would not scour the scene
for them it was just another full mooned
she was only the lovers go between
everyone told her the tryst was doomed

parents disapproved the high school sweet hearts
the self centered stud seeking his own desires
she was the enabler suffering by fits and starts
he used her by pulling her puppet wires
the delusions of love they fashioned into arts
their passions never consumed by the same fires.

his conquests were often and many
she always stood by turning a blind eye
she knew the times and the names were plenty
her dreams were always pie in the sky
her best friend would not submit, would she help any
she would do anything for him, she let out a sigh

that fateful night as on the silver screen
she walked to that dark place were all assumed
she was only the lovers go between
everyone told her the tryst was doomed.

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ME and the Boss

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