Tag Archives: poet

A Symptom

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“Poetry

is not

an art,

it’s

a symptom.”

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~ Michele Brenton

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Elfje: (Cinquain)

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symptom

associated with

caused by something

rash, swelling, fever, cough

victim

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Haiku:

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hummingbird hovers

sweet nectar from bird feeder

glad to help nature

.

Poem:

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luck

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there was a man named Stan

of limericks he was not a fan

he possessed no sense of humor

just another misplaced baby boomer

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he could get lost on the playground

the favorite target of the class clown

on all of his test he was just so average

couldn’t even decide on a preferred beverage

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at sixteen he failed his drivers test

playing video games he became obsessed

his high water pants gave everyone a laugh

not one yearbook did he ever autograph

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finally, as a senior, he just hung in there

with the class queen he had an affair

she made millions from her photograph

and good old Stan had the last laugh

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ME and the Boss

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https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

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Buy The Book

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“I’ve had it

with these cheap

sons of bitches

who claim they

love poetry

but never buy a book.”

.

~ Kenneth Rexroth

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Elfje:

.

book

of rhymes

in a library

never touched gathering dust

ignorance

.

or is it stupidity ? ? ?

.

Haiku:

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winter reminder

late blooming fruit and veggies

last crop of summer

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Poem:

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it was a relationship made in hell

two sickies do not make a wellie

started in the room of a sleazy motel

both personalities were like Machiavelli

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the only common ground was the booze

they both went from Jekyll to Hyde

tempers were tied to a very short fuse

mutual respect was only implied

.

the need for instant gratification produced a child

neither held a modicum of responsibility

nothing would let them become reconciled

both had no clue regards dependability

.

time moved slowly

the disease progressed rapidly

they took turns in and out of the pokey

the little ones become the casualty

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help was ignored, denial

the sickness said they could not be told

ever perpetuating the vicious cycle

until they were too sick and very old

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inherited by the next generation

the afflictions, the addictions took their toll

a small number poisoned an entire nation

a deaf ear limited the damage control

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sorrow, pity, remorse and regret

crocodile tears shed for the unforgiven

what were they listening to under that headset

too sick and sorry to  seek contrition

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only they can help themselves

few are they who can fight that hard

always blaming someone else

praying that a miracle is in the card

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as long as there is a profitable market

the sick mind will seek its pleasure

be aware that someone you love may be the target

the law appears a weak countermeasure

.

with addictions taking more lives than cancer

does the world need another opium war

can the politicians supply the answer

or must you wait until it knocks on your door

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ME and the Boss

.

.

https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

.

https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

.

.

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