No Interpreter Needed

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“Great poetry

needs no interpreter

other than a

responsive heart.”

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― Helen Keller

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Elfje:

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feelings

emotionally charged

accepting what comes

life on life’s terms   (Life on God’s terms)

human

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Haiku:

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the shores sandy dunes

pushed by the oceans currents

summer vacation

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Poem:

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some say the best poems extol the virtues of love

while soaring above on the wings of a dove

stories about feelings, fears and life

worries about things that cause angst and strife

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every day the feelings are different

those without mothers become the ignorant

books with stories teach us how to feel

family and friends explain that which is real

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some seek to alter the mood so they need not think

can’t figure out why when they lie to the shrink

sad are those whose brains are on a perpetual swing

ups and downs caused by the brains short circuit wiring

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lucky are those whose friends have feelings that are mutual

the paranoid, the loner are not that unusual

will man ever be able to fix the brain

can there be a time when no one will be insane

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until medicine finds the cure

self education will be the basic tool

learning to live the Golden Rule

hope’s of growing up and becoming mature

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ME and the Boss

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https://meandtheboss.wordpress.com

https://michaelerb.wordpress.com

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Nothing Is Free

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“…”vers libre,” (free verse)

or nine-tenths of it,

is not a new metre,

any more than sleeping

in a ditch is a

new school of architecture.”

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~ G.K. Chesterton

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Haiku;

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form versus function

birthed by a Higher Power

words cannot describe

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Elfje:

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poems

usually rhyme

a free verse

is never really free

prose

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Poem:

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nothing is free my Mother always said

everyone knew she was more than a figurehead

when God gives you lemons make lemonade

you know that the piper always gets paid

she even knew whom I should have wed

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time has passed and the more I write

I now know that Mother was always right

I’ve yet to find where I have been misled

nothing is free my Mother always said

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she always knew what was lying ahead

kitchen counseling as she made the best cornbread

with little she made much by being creative

she manipulated  my mind without being authoritative

still giving advice as she laid on her deathbed

nothing is free my Mother always said

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ME and the Boss

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this form of poetry is called a Rondeau

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