Saturday, 1 October 2016

My Life as a Poet

In nursery school
I met the pussy-willow
Whose coat was dapple gray
I memorized her meadow home
Not very far away

From a high chair,
Lyrics lathered
In my elementary brain
As I washed for hours
Crumbs and mustard
Down the drain

Plagued by
Before I knew the word,
Squelched my

In the 8th grade,
Mr. D. recited
Of my ramblings
To the class

But therapy
Became my reason
To fill reams
Of endless rhymes

Pages turned
To sonnets,
Then dirges
In the night

For decades, verses
Sat cloistered from boisterous
Critical voices

Then, testing the waters
And honing my craft,
I dove into the depths
Of euphony
And penned an ode
To honour Roget's
Supportive stance

Occupied with poetry,
And lines that make me laugh,
I pensively composed
My decomposing epitaph
October 2007

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